The Sound of One Hand Clapping Pt 2
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: FRAO (explicit language and more than implied M/M sex)
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, John/Bobby some implied Sam/Dean
Warnings: Complete AU, non-explicit M/M sex, violence, angst, OOC behavior
Summary: This is my version of what happened to John after he made the deal with the YED in IMTOD. It's John get's sent to the Twilight Zone. I was reading another story which gave me the idea, and although this story is nothing at all like that one I did want to mention that reading it sparked my interest in the notion of sending John to another dimension.
Bobby rolled off of John with a groan and flopped back on the bed. With a grin he dragged a corner of the sheet up swiping at his sweat-stained face. John rolled his eyes; the older man looked way too self-satisfied for his liking. But John merely stretched his shoulders and let his breath out in one long sigh. He had never been this well-fucked in his life. Bobby was insatiable. If John had known that the other man was this good in bed he might have been inclined to take Bobby up on his offer "back there" as John had begun to think of the other time-line in his mind.
Bobby was dozing in the patch of sunlight that fell across the bed from the window; his chest rising and falling in little hitches as he snored then snorted trying to keep himself awake. It was mid-afternoon and John could hear the boys out in the yard talking to their father. He winced again. Suddenly despair ripped at John, this wasn't his life. He almost wished that he had gone to hell. What had been the point in bringing him here? Yes, he was alive, but this life was no less torment than an eternity in the fire pits of hell would have been.
The more he thought about it the more John was sure that his soul had been shuttled across some cosmic gameboard to this place, not for his sake but for Bobby's. The older man adored John, loved him with the same passion and devotion that John had loved Mary "back there." Was that the reason that God…the Powers that Be…whoever… had brought John here, to keep Bobby from traveling the same road John had taken or maybe doing something worse?
Sighing John looked down at this left hand, angry that the ring Mary had given him was gone and in its place were these rings, the engagement ring with its three diamonds-too gaudy for his tastes and the band that was the mate to the one Bobby wore. He thought about taking them off but that would confuse and hurt the other man, and once again John reminded himself that none of this was Bobby's fault. This John had loved Bobby enough to marry him, now he was here trying to fill that role. Could he explain this to Bobby?
If some other spirit of Mary had been displaced, sent hurtling across the void, into her body would John have accepted her? Would she have been "his" Mary or just an empty shell with someone else residing in it? He would have turned her away, wouldn't he?
John flinched, because deep inside he knew that he would have never walked away from her, even knowing it wasn't really his Mary. He'd never stood in the crossroads and asked for a deal for Mary because John knew he was weak enough that he would have taken whatever he got, undead or otherwise, if he could have only held her close to him one more time.
Rolling over John stared at the other man. Was he a millstone around Bobby's neck, was that what 'she' had been to John? If he did tell Bobby the truth about what had happened John didn't think it would make a difference. Somewhere in the back of his mind a thought stirred and an image of the older man weeping over the still, cold body he found laying in bed waiting for him. John felt the strange and yet familiar sensation of the aura before the vision set in. The image grew and expanded…
Bobby sobbed, rocking John's dead body, holding the younger man tightly, unafraid of hurting him now. His face twisted in grief and rage the hunter gently slid his spouse's body into the sheets covering him in the white linen.
Taking a deep breath Bobby pawed his wallet out of the rear pocket of his blood stained jeans lifting a picture out of it. Through the haze of pain a smile crept across his face as Bobby touched his finger to the image, traced over the beloved face of the boy smiling at him on their wedding day. He had not been without this picture for thirty-four years, not seen one day pass that he had not thanked every benevolent deity he could think of for this man who had shared his life.
Quickly Bobby rose from the bed and walked to the door. Leaving the lights on, the room too still and quiet, he closed the door. Bobby's truck was in a parking spot outside the room he unlocked it and climbed inside. Across the walkway the older man could see the face of one of Jim Murphy's boys framed in the window, the younger man frowning as his friend's truck peeled out of the parking lot.
The streets were bare, almost empty at this time of night…morning really and the truck made good time out of the city and into the surrounding countryside. Tires squealing the big pick-up slewed across the road and bumped into a ditch at the first intersection that Bobby came too. He stepped out not caring who saw him now.
Staggering to the cross-roads as if he was drunk Bobby dropped to his knees digging in the hard packed earth. Clods of soil skittered over his hands bouncing and tumbling away as he scraped a furrow in the ground. The picture from his wallet slipped out of his numb fingers and Bobby dumped loose soil over it.
Rising on shaking legs he waited, and it wasn't long. She was there in an instant; of course she would come for him. They all would have come running for him, and Bobby offered her a grim smile. Her smile in return was cold and mocking as if she had lost her respect for a man this weak. Bobby grunted out a curse and she winced. The bitch might not respect Bobby but she damn sure feared him.
"So you want to make a deal to get poor sweet Johnny back? Bobby, don't you know what's dead should stay dead?"
"I don't care; you name your price…"
"Well, the standard contract is ten years, but my boss might be in a hurry to see you."
Bobby grunted again, "Ten years or ten minutes I don't care as long as I get to see him one more time before I go."
"I'll give you the ten years; I wonder how you'll feel about him in the end?"
Bobby's grin was sickly, stretch tight across his face.
"I'll still love him and that's something you'll never understand."
She smiled easing up to him to seal the deal. When it was over Bobby shoved her away, and she laughed. He watched her fade away the smile still on her lips then hurried back to his truck. He needed to get back to the hotel room, get John cleaned up before he realized what had happened.
The door to Sam and Dean's room opened and Dean crept outside. His brother was asleep in one of the beds in the room and Bobby was gone. Taking a deep breath he rapped on the door to John and Bobby's room. With a tiny squeak the door swung in.
Dean could just make out the faint shape of the older man's body swathed in sheets lying on the bed. It was damn thoughtless of Bobby to leave the door unlocked with John asleep inside. A smile tugged at the corners of Dean's lips.
"John, I saw Bobby leave…you two didn't have a fight did you? You didn't tell him, you know…" Dean frowned when John didn't respond. Taking a step closer the younger man settled on the edge of the bed shaking John's shoulder. "John don't be mad at me. Come on how long is Bobby going to be gone, maybe we can sneak in a quickie?"
Dean frowned; the figure beneath his hands was cold and stiff, his shoulder rigid. Then suddenly John took a deep shuddering breath and rolled over. Blinking owlishly he smiled up at the younger man. "You want to fuck me?"
Grinning Dean's fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. "Hell yes."
A cold, calculating look stole across John's face as his fingers traced the bulge in the younger man's jean. "Uhmmm, god you got a cock on you. Too bad…"
A scream bubbled on Dean's lips as John's fingers tightened on his crotch. He tried to pull away but the other man's grip was like iron. John struggled upright in the bed as his fingers ripped into the heavy denim jeans, blood seeped through the fabric and Dean slapped John. The older man's head rocked back but he just smiled his fingers twisting. Blood spurted over his knuckles, running in crimson steams down his fingers. His wedding ring glinted in the light then blood pooled over its surface clouding the diamonds and metal.
With a grin John pushed Dean into the floor pulling his hand free of the tattered cloth. Raising his hand John licked at the blood and shreds of flesh clinging to his fingertips.
The door swung inward and Bobby stood framed in the sickly yellow glow of the sodium arc lights in the parking lot. John's face was dark, expression petulant, and his skin was smeared with clots of flesh and blood. Bobby moaned.
Walking around the foot of the bed the older man jerked to a halt staring at the body on the floor. John looked up.
"He wanted to fuck me. Did you know that? Your best friend's son had a thing for me and you never noticed. Dean has been after me for years now, wanting to slip behind your back. He wanted to shove his dick up my ass, but he would have settled for my mouth." Licking his lips John picked a bit of flesh off his thumb with his teeth. "Well, I guess he got his wish."
Choking back a cry Bobby staggered away from the bed. He managed to reach the duffle bag on the table before John could rise from his seat on the bed. Hand shaking he raised the Beretta. The sound of a gun shot filled the room and John's body flew back on the bed, a single hole in the center of his forehead. Bobby moaned again raising the gun. He pressed the barrel under his chin and another gunshot sliced through the still night air…
Gasping John threw the covers off and staggered to the bathroom retching. He slid into the floor pressing his forehead to the cold porcelain toilet. He was shaking uncontrollably and closed his eyes. These visions of things that might have happened or would have happened were overwhelming.
There was a flurry of movement behind him then John was wrapped in Bobby's arms.
A sob hitched in his chest as he burrowed against the soft pale skin and reddish blond hair. Bobby stroked John's back and John felt himself arch into the touch.
"I want to go home," John whispered.
Bobby nodded.
"Okay, we'll get the truck loaded."
Shaking his head John said,
"No you don't understand. I want…I want."
Bobby sighed,
"What do want, baby? Whatever it is I'll do it for you or get it for you. Anything you need, you know that."
Hiding his smile against the older man's chest John sighed. Of course that would be Bobby's attitude.
"You can't fix this."
"I can fix anything, Johnny."
"God, I love you," John said huffing out a laugh.
And it was true he did love this man. Finally, John settled back letting Bobby hold him. He could do this, it wasn't that hard. He did love Bobby. This was what his life was now, for better or worse, he couldn't leave Bobby now.
Puffing up his chest Bobby laughed into he younger man's hair.
"Hey, what's not to love? I'm great!"
Taking another deep breath John slipped out of the older man's arms cocking his head he stared at Bobby until he blushed and looked away. Finally John offered him a weak grin. Clambering unsteadily to his knees he pressed a kiss on Bobby's thin lips.
"I want to hunt with you, all the time."
Bobby let his head fall to one side offering the younger man a stilted grin.
"Are you sure? I mean you never liked hunting, and you can cast spells from behind the lines."
John shook his head.
"Please, I want to go with you and Sam and Dean. I want to hunt, carry a gun, the whole nine yards."
"John, you can't even drive a car let alone shoot a gun."
John looked scandalized.
"I can drive…" he snapped and Bobby chuckled. John smacked him on the arm. Bobby flinched rubbing his skin.
"You backed my truck into the garage and took out half the laundry room in the house. It scared the crap out of me. I thought you were going to take out the gas line for the hot water heater."
"I just needed to practice."
Bobby shot him a look, lips compressed to the point of disappearing into his beard.
"John you ain't been 'practicing' behind my back when I'm with the boys, have you?"
"Uhhh, Bobby, can we go to the mall?" John asked rising to his feet and flipping on the shower.
Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Don't change the subject on me, baby. If anything happened to you, it'd kill me; you know that, don't you?"
John stepped into the shower then slid back making room for the other man.
"God wouldn't let that happen, Bobby. You're a warrior for good; he'd make sure you were covered."
"I don't think that God pays much heed to the doings of ol' Bobby Singer."
Leaning back into Bobby's chest John closed his eyes.
"Don't kid yourself old man. You'd be damned surprised at what He'd do for you."
Jim, Mary and the boys were gathered in the living room when John and Bobby appeared, freshly showered. Mary looked at John and blushed; he felt his own face growing warm in return. He hadn't thought that he and Bobby going to bed would be noticed by the others but apparently it had been.
Idly John wondered how often Jim and Mary had sex, and then decided he really didn't want to know. But if her look at Jim was anything to go by it was not as often as he and Bobby. He smiled at the others.
"Bobby and I are going to the mall, anybody up for a trip?"
The mall was crowded as John dragged Bobby into the Land's End store and headed straight for the causal clothing. He picked up several pairs of heavy denim jeans and some dark colored t-shirts. Bobby followed along behind him looking at John as if he had lost his mind. Finally the older man tugged John to a halt and picked up a navy blue blazer and wool slacks.
"These are more along your usual line, look it's cashmere, you like that, John."
He held up the jacket with a hopeful look on his face and John looked at the six hundred dollar price tag and felt his jaw drop. Bobby smiled again this time more hopefully and John flinched.
"I want flannel and t-shirts. I'm tired of looking like a Ken doll."
"What?" Bobby asked as the salesclerk took the blazer with a shrug.
The older man followed John though the store blinking at the growing pile of clothes in his arms.
John tossed the clothing he was carrying into the older man's arms and Bobby looked over the pile of fabric with a grimace.
"Baby, you feelin' okay? I mean…John, you usually look a little more…"
"Candy-assed?" John asked with a frown.
Bobby coughed as if he was choking then blinked. Shooting him a smug grin John tossed a denim jacket on the top of the pile and fled to the shoe department. When Bobby caught up with him John had discarded the expensive Italian loafers in favor of a pair of steel-toed work boots. Bobby grunted taking a deep breath.
The salesgirl approached Bobby with a grin.
"Nice to see you again Mr. Singer. Are you and Mr. Winchester doing well?"
"Just fine," John interrupted handing her the loafers. "Toss those in this box for me, will ya' sweetheart."
The girl and Bobby both flinched. She cocked her head and Bobby shrugged.
"Please we're ---uhmm, going through a little change of style this month."
She nodded sagely and John winced; apparently he had done this before. It made him feel a bit better and Bobby didn't mind. In fact, he looked more amused than angry. John flashed him a grin. Sidling up to the younger man Bobby shifted the every growing pile of clothes and leaned forward to whisper in John's ear,
"You know I expect something in return for this, John."
John shivered looking at the older man from under his lashes.
"Like you don't get it enough as it is."
Shaking his head Bobby grinned.
"No I mean something a little extra special."
"Extra special?" John said with a more pronounced shiver. Bobby's grin widened.
"After we get done here I plan on stopping at Victoria's Secret."
"You want to pick up a hooker later?" John sniffed and Bobby burst out laughing. He slid a hand down John's arm, and then patted his ass.
"They got new stuff in the plus size department and midnight blue is just your color."
"What?" John's eyes flew wide opened as his jaw dropped. Bobby flashed him a smug grin; apparently they'd done this before too.
John stood beside the cash register as the clerk rang up their purchases. He actually flinched when the total appeared on the screen. Bobby paid the tab without batting an eyelash and John sighed. It looked like hunting was a whole lot more lucrative in this time-line than it had been in his old time-line.
Taking half the bags Bobby passed them to John then picked up the rest. They met with Sam and Dean on the walk-way then headed over to the other store. Sam's mouth gaped open when they walked in and John could see Dean eyeing the salesgirls with a smirk. He smiled, this world or that one, Dean was still Dean. John waited for the pain to set in and somehow it didn't hurt as much as he had thought it would.
He stood there waiting for Bobby to find what he wanted, wondering what he had just gotten himself into when a blushing petite young woman in a pink sweater, that more than nicely draped her own assets, motioned John over.
Bobby stood, chin cradled in his palm, as the girl lifted a camisole of silk and black lace out for John and he stared at her. He could feel the heat in his face and knew he was blushing like crazy. With shaking hands John accepted the garment. It was deep midnight blue and shimmered softly in the muted, soft lighting. The straps were thin, doubled, but he knew they could be adjusted. The fabric was whisper soft and drifted through John's fingers like water through a sieve. Blinking, he looked at Bobby and was caught by the heat in those pale blue eyes. Swallowing hard John reached out and took the matching panties.
The girl flushed crimson then looked over at the older man.
"Is that okay?"
"Oh yeah…"
John groaned as she took the two items to the cash register with Bobby following along. He couldn't believe that he had just agreed to dress in women's underwear for Bobby. But considering the look on the other man's face John didn't think he'd actually be in them for that long.
By the time they made it to the café John's stomach was rumbling and he took a deep breath. The scent wafting on the cool, air-conditioned breeze was tantalizing. They asked for a table on the patio and sat in silence looking over the menu.
The waitress appeared and they asked for beer all around. Bobby frowned slightly and John knew he was wrong, but he didn't care. Yes, he had to live in this world, in this borrowed body, but it was his life now. Things were going to change.
The waiter had just taken their orders when John sat back. His attention had been wandering and he felt a buzz at the back of his head that had nothing to do with the beer he was drinking. The sunlight seemed to dance on the brightly painted surface of the wrought iron tables, and he watched the shimmering light twist and bend. It was almost like the feeling he had had earlier that day when he had the vision. But he had been in the trance-like state between sleep and wakefulness then, the vision more ephemeral.
Now the light bent and roiled dancing around the edges of the table. It was warm, golden and beautiful and John found himself caught, then suddenly the pain hit. Screaming John clasped his temples back going rigid. Bobby was out of his chair and on his feet in seconds but not quickly enough to keep John from toppling over, the chair skittering out from under him as his back impacted the brick patio floor.
The rough stone scraped his arm and hip as John writhed on the ground. Then Bobby vanished from his sight, the mall faded from view and John was standing in the forest surrounding the town. It was dark and cold, the clear blue light of the moon glinting on the silky leaves of the trees and underbrush.
Panting, John turned, as far off in the distance he could just make out the growl of some large predator; the wavering keening cry sweeping the night air. Dead and dying leaves crackled under his booted feet as John tried to find the path back to the mall, but he was alone and the animal was coming closer. In a minute the brush parted and a beast, large, dark, shaggy-haired, burst into the clearing. John braced himself for the impact, the thud of muscle colliding with muscle. But the werewolf passed by him or through him and continued on the path farther into the woods.
John turned to follow.
The thick growth of trees and bush parted and he could see a wide expanse of meadow. The flat grass hung limply, only barely stirred by the soft breeze. There were two figures on the path, and they both turned as the creature sprang out of the brush heading toward them at a staggering lope.
John shouted a warning, screaming at them to run, but they didn't respond, merely stood gaping as the werewolf closed on them, then finally, with heart-rending desperation the boy pushed the girl forward urging her onward. But they were too slow, and John knew one of them was going to die.
He shouted, slapping his hands against his leg trying desperately to get the creature to focus on him and leave the two young people alone. The thing didn't even notice him. It closed the ground between itself and the two kids in a few long strides. The boy made an attempt at pushing the werewolf away, screaming at the girl to move, but she stood her ground not abandoning him.
The werewolf knocked the boy aside and he fell, neck snapping with a sickening crunch of bone. John flinched. Uninterested in dead flesh the werewolf closed in on the girl. She screamed once as its snout hit her chest, the blood sprayed over its gray fur and she was quiet. John cringed.
He screamed again clawing at the hands that held him, and then John blinked. The light was soft and golden yellow around Bobby's head and shoulders. Drawing in a ragged breath John grabbed the other man's hands.
"It killed them…it killed them both. The boy is alright, his neck broke, but it bit the girl. She'll turn…Bobby, she'll turn."
"Whoa, John just calm down. It's okay it hasn't happened. They're not dead…not yet. We got to find them. You said it killed them; what did baby?"
Shaking, John gratefully took the glass of water the waiter held out, offering the younger man an apologetic grimace in return. He thought the other people in the café might be angry or embarrassed but looking around he could see nothing but concerned faces. Some people were staring openly but with expectant looks and John realized that most of them were fascinated by his having a vision. He felt like a side-show freak.
Dean knelt down easing his arm under John's shoulders and Bobby helped drag him to his feet. He took two unsteady steps to the chair and collapsed. The manager of the café came over to the table with a small brown bottle in her hand. She smiled at John then offered the bottle to Bobby.
"Its belladonna water, it'll help with the pain. Our worker's comp doctor makes sure we have it on hand in case we have any wait-staff who has visions."
"Thank you, ma'am," Bobby nodded. "Baby you take a spoonful of this, okay. It'll help with the migraine."
The pain had set in full force and John didn't argue. He swallowed the bitter liquid then started to chase it with a swig of the beer. Sam intercepted him and shoved a glass of milk at him. By the time the food arrived John was feeling sleepy but the pain had faded to a dull ache and he was ravenous. Between bites Bobby and the boys questioned John about the vision.
"It's a werewolf," John said quietly. His headache was fading and he felt more like himself. It still freaked him out a little that they were able to sit here in broad daylight and talk about werewolves and no one gave them a second thought.
Wind whispered through the trees ruffling John's hair as he squatted above the glyph he had drawn on the ground in white limestone powder. Carefully he dropped a red glass encased candle on the central arc of the character making sure that the white powder framed the glass equally on all sides. With a grimace he tapped the candle slightly moving it just a few centimeters. Taking a deep breath he lit the candle then rocked back on his heels. Picking up his bag John carefully pulled out a small pewter bowl etched with intricate designs. His large fingers deftly cradled the bowl as he sifted a fine layer of powdered herbs into the container. He followed the powder with a thin trickle of oil then layered another herb on top of the first.
Light flared as he struck a match and the bowl was enveloped in a pale blue fire. The flames danced across John's skin but he didn't wince in pain, there was none, just the cool soft glow. Far off in the distance Bobby, Sam and Dean were spread out through the forest looking for the werewolf in John's vision. They were out of his effective range of hearing now, and John was unsettled.
Rocking back on his heels again John sat huddled against the cold wind. The glyph had two purposes; one was as a locator spell, the other a revelation spell. The truth was revealed in the blue flames; whether it was inner truth or outer truth John had no control. With a soft sigh he sat, still, silent, waiting.
A sound split the air, and John jerked around, glancing at the path. Somewhere out there the boys and Bobby were spread out. He was supposed to watch the sigil, track the beast, and stay behind the lines within the soft glow of the incantation, but John couldn't. What if the werewolf found the boys before they found it? Taking a deep breath he wrestled the gun from his pocket and checked the slide. It clicked home with a satisfying snap, and he popped the clip.
Rising to his feet John stepped out of the circle of the blue flames. The trees to his left rustled and split open. The dark form emerged, tall and lean with hunched shoulders. John gasped, stepping back. The werewolf spotted him, huge shaggy head rolling around. The creature narrowed its eyes, panting.
The gun came up in his hands smoothly, and John slipped back further feeling his back
scrape over the rough bark on the tree trunk behind him. The werewolf took one unsteady step forward and that was when John saw the blood on the thing's hide. It was injured, either one of the boys or Bobby must have come across it earlier. Fear seized him and John fired.
The shot went wide as he suddenly realized that, although he had the knowledge, this body did not have the muscle memory for gunfire. His wrist didn't seem strong enough for the Colt. John cursed. When he had asked Bobby for one of the guns in the weapons box under the false bottom of his pick-up he should have asked for the Glock. The smaller grip and smaller caliber would have been easier to handle. He was lost here, floundering, and he was going to die.
With an enraged snarl the werewolf sprang toward him covering the ground in an easy loping stride. John wrestled the gun up again knowing he was not going to be able to hit the thing. His second shot dug up the turf at the werewolf's feet and it skidded to a halt.
Yellow eyes gleamed at John and he felt his stomach churn. The creature's tongue lolled out, and he could swear the damned thing was smiling at him. John flinched raising the gun again.
The werewolf lunged.
From somewhere to his left the sound of thunder filled the air. The creature yelped; body twisting in midair as blood jetted out of its chest. Whining the werewolf hit the ground on its back then rolled onto its belly, clawing at the soft ground.
Bobby stepped out of the shadows, raising the shotgun he carried once again. The second shot ripped into the beast's spine, crippling it. The last shot took the head almost all the way off. Panting, John turned away and vomited everything he had in his stomach. His wrist ached, and John was sure he had sprained it, and there was a maddenly slow itch between his shoulders. The slow trickle of fluid that was probably blood from where he had scraped his back raw.
His breath hitched and before John knew what was happening he had burst into tears. Bobby caught him up in a tight hug, holding him close, whispering into his hair. John shivered and shook, and hated himself. This was just one more reminder that he was a stranger in a strange land. The outsider, here, in this body, someone had borrowed for him from a dead man.
And as much as John wanted to make this his life, it wasn't going to be. Mary was never going to be his again, Dean and Sam weren't his sons, and this wasn't the John Winchester who had sold his soul to a demon for his boy's life.
TBC