The Fall of House Winchester - Chapter One

[hunters_retreat]

The metal doors creaked against the intrusion and he wanted to do the same, to moan and protest the two men that came walking into the cell. He knew better though. It didn’t take long in the slave pens to learn to keep your head down and your mouth shut. He had a harder time figuring that out than most of them. He was Dean Winchester after all.

The guards moved through the spineless masses looking for their next mark, someone else to be sold on the auction block. Dean kept his head down, hair grown long to hide his face from prying eyes. If someone did see through it, all they would see would be the filth and muck of the stables and nothing of the vain man he’d once been. His vanity was just another possession he’d lost.

He dug black fingers into the ground of the holding cell, fresh earth since the pens had been cleaned out earlier in the day, and felt slightly replenished for the clean feel of it. When he closed his eyes he could smell fresh dirt and grass, feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and remember the clear cool comfort of a long swim in a forgotten pool.

He pulled away from the memory though. He needed to focus. He hunched his shoulders to make himself look smaller, something that got easier the longer he remained there with the way he was losing weight. His clothes, filthy rags that needed to be salted and burned rather than washed, hung off him in ways that made him look sickly and repugnant.

The guards continued through the crowd but it was obvious they were looking for a specific slave, not just anyone. He realized they were looking for him as they continued to pick up anyone that had his build. He’d been in the pens too long, he knew that. They were looking to get rid of the old meat and bring in the new.

If they only knew.

They spotted him a moment later and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t run and even if he did, no one was going to stand up for him, taking his place on the block. They were slaves, less than a person in society’s eyes, and they behaved as such. Another thing he’d learned the hard way.

A rough hand grabbed him and Dean stilled his body’s initial instinct to lash out and get the hell away. It would just excite his handlers and he had better things to do than become someone’s lunch. He went willingly even if he didn’t know what to expect outside the pens. What he did know, was that Dean Winchester was about to go on the chopping block.

“Stand straight,” the guard hissed in his ear and Dean ignored it. He felt himself pushed against the wall when he didn’t obey the order. Hot breath against his neck, sharp teeth pressing to his veins and he held his breath against the fear that they would take him this time.

“You don’t have time for that,” the other guard saved Dean from the hunger he could feel emanating from the first guard. “Besides, you’ve seen him. You don’t know what’s on his skin or who else has had their fangs in him.”

He felt the pressure lessen and he had to scramble to keep upright as the creature moved away from him. He didn’t allow himself the comfort of closing his eyes, of taking the shuddered breath he wanted because they would know it for the weakness it was. He’d managed to stay in the pens unnoticed for over six months without anyone taking a bite out of him. He had no intention of letting it happen now either.

He was pushed down a dark hallway, his eyes unable to adjust as doorways opened to the right, letting in bright light that stung and blinded his night vision. He was dragged up a set of stairs and then shoved without warning through a curtain and out into a staggering spotlight.

He closed his eyes then, hoping to let his eyes adjust that way. He could hear the murmur and he was glad he’d managed to keep his shoulders hunched in spite of the instinct to stand tall and remind them that he was strong, that he was a hunter for fuck’s sake.

He wasn’t anymore though. There were no hunters left. The war between human and vampire had taken its toll on everyone and when the government, newly formed in the wake of the bloodbath, had decreed hunting a government job, they went about training their own. Calling them rogues didn’t stop the old time hunters though. Hell, they’d always been on the wrong side of the law. The only problem was the vampires didn’t take it so well when they kept right on hunting them. The hunters were quickly decimated, all but a handful who were good enough and went to ground. Dean had managed to stay under until he’d seen an overseer, human of all things, beating a vampiric slave.

Dean had no love of vampires, but he couldn’t stand brutality against someone that was helpless to defend themselves so he’d formed a plan.    It worked perfectly too, right up until one of the human slaves gave him away. That was when he realized the truth of it all. Vampires were no worse than humans, they were just more honest about their blood lust.

He’d been shackled and turned over to the master of the house, a human who simply threw him in the pens to sell when the next fair came along. In that first month he learned to hide himself, to make himself indistinguishable from the spineless rabble around him. He had to. The guards learned that a hunter was among them and the last thing he needed was for them to scent him. So he kept the filth and stench around him like armor because if there was something vampires prized more than a hunter to break, it was an unbitten hunter to sink their fangs into.

“A renegade,” the announcement was met by murmurs in the audience and he knew what it meant. He’d listened enough in the pens as the other slaves talked about being on the block. Renegades meant trouble so the asking price was lower. He was just lucky the man who captured him hadn’t realized he was a real hunter. “Tried to help a handful of slaves escape, human and vampire. The denouncement of legal rights is available upon purchase. Scars on the body show a hard life but he is in good health otherwise. Bidding begins at $500.”

He opened his eyes and was beginning to make out his surroundings. He couldn’t see into the audience with the light shining at him from the front, but in his peripheral he could see the dark drapery and the fine velvets that adorned the chairs and couches along the stage. He could make out the vague shape of booths in the back.

“Adeo,” he heard a small feminine voice call from the back, familiar but he couldn’t place it. He knew the word though, knew what it meant as she said it there, watching him on the block.

“Of course, adeo has been called. If any would like a closer look, please come forward. Just a reminder than there is no tasting the items while they are still on the block.”

A laugh went up among the audience and Dean felt sick to his stomach. Some of that laughter had been nervous, humans in the vampire’s lair, but not much. The vampires surrounded him and if one of them got hold of his scent it would be over.

A human man came forward, pulling at Dean’s long, lank hair. He bit his tongue to keep from speaking because there were no rules about not forcing a slave to obey on the block and he didn’t need to be shown his place in front of all these people. His pride could only take so much.

The man stared at his face for a moment then pressed a hand to the marks on Dean’s neck. No one touched them long enough to know they were faked. At least living the hunter’s life had given him that, enough knowledge to be able to fake the look of a bite mark. He ran his hands over Dean’s shoulder and back, frowning at Dean’s hunch.

When he stepped away, a small woman stood before him. She ran her hands along the same line, checking his shoulders, running strong fingers over his arms. She came to the front and faced him, her thumb caressing the marks on his neck in a gentle move that nearly made him shiver. It’d been too long since anyone had touched him with anything close to kindness.

She didn’t undo his shirt like he’d heard so many of them did, but her hands slid up under the cloth to feel the muscles of his chest and abs. When she pulled her hands out, she finally looked up at his face. Her eyes bore into his and it was with a gasp that he straightened up and took a step back.

“Jo?”

She stepped closer, smiling to reveal the points of her teeth before she let them draw back. “Slaves aren’t allowed to speak on the block.” She reached out with one hand on his shoulder and forced him to his knees. She leaned down, whispering in his ear. “I suggest you don’t look up either. You don’t know who might recognize you.”

He looked up through his hair and watched her as she nodded to someone over her shoulder. She smiled, and then walked away from Dean, leaving him alone on the platform.

“Now then, I said $500 for an opening bid. And we have $500. Do we have $525?”

Dean phased out the bidding. He really didn’t want to know how much someone thought he was worth. There were ripples of laughter around him, people, vampires, all having a good time as they looked at the human on the block, mentions of what he might look like if he weren’t so filthy, if he was really as tall as he’d been for that moment or if it was just a trick of the light. It all passed unnoticed to him though, his mind still reeling over the image of a vampiric Jo Harvelle. It’d been years since his father had taken him to the Roadhouse, years since he’d seen the little girl with golden hair and big blue eyes, but he’d known her instantly.

He closed his eyes again, no longer caring about what it said of him as he thought about that trip, thought about the little brother that had followed him around and Jo trailing after them as they sparred and ran and trained while their father worked on a hunt with Jo’s dad. His brother’s eyes flashed at him, angry and sad and damning as they always did, that last memory of betrayal as he walked out the door, walked away from his family to go to Stanford. Dean always thought he’d have a chance to talk to Sam again, to make up for being too angry to accept his brother’s decision, but he never got it.

San Francisco was one of the first cities hit in the wave of the Vampire Rebellion. The surrounding area had turned to chaos in days and Dean had never found Sam, not even a hint of what had happened to his brother. He hoped he’d somehow managed to find other hunters to stay hidden or maybe just gone to ground alone, but the more time that passed the less Dean believed it. Not after the horror stories that came from the survivors of the California Overtaking. The state had been decimated, the vampires deciding to consolidate their power there and work outward once the initial burst of fighting had begun.

It’d taken Dean two months to get to Stanford. He’d searched for two years before finally giving up, hoping Sam had escaped the torment there. When Dean found other hunters, found the rogues the new government branded traitors, no one else had heard anything of Sam either. John mourned the loss of his son the only way he knew how. He cracked open a bottle, and then went on a quest for vengeance. He managed to kill more than 30 vampires in a six month period before one finally got him. Bastard wouldn’t let them take him alive though, not John, he wouldn’t give them the chance to turn him. Dean had watched as Bobby pulled him away, running like mad to escape the same fate, as John ate a bullet.

Dean nearly did the same once they were safe, but images of Sam still swam in his head, images of Sam hurt or worse, waiting for Dean to save him. It took him another two years before he stopped actively looking for Sam. As much as he had given up hope of ever finding his brother, he still couldn’t stop the small kernel that kept him going, the feeling that if his brother were dead he’d know it.

He jerked upright at the pounding of the gavel, indicating his bidding was over. The spot light was turned away as another stage to his left lit up, bringing on the next poor soul. Dean blinked his eyes to get his sight back, but then a small hand was placed on his arm.

“It will just be a moment,” Jo said softly beside him. “Master Ford is checking your papers for authenticity and then we can be on our way.”

“Master Ford? So you’re a slave now Jo?” he scoffed.

“So are you Dean,” her fingers pressed into his arm with more strength than a human would have. “Master Ford is good to us so long as we show him the proper respect.”

Dean laughed. “So you’re saying I’m going to be whipped often, is that it?” It was a common enough punishment for a slave, even if Dean refused to admit that’s what he was. Someone could write it on a piece of paper, mark it with a seal, but no one could take his freedom.

“I hope not Dean,” she said softly. “If not for your sake, then for his. He doesn’t want to see you treated harshly.”

“I’m sure he’s very concerned about the condition of his property.”

She eyed him for a second before turning away. He followed her gaze and could see a tall man walking away from the auctioneer’s podium.

“Come on Dean, we have to go.”

“So that’s the infamous Master Ford,” he said softly. Even if he had been too upset thinking about Jo as a slave to say something at first mention, he hadn’t missed the name.

“Yes,” her clipped tone let him know the conversation was over. “Now hold still.”

She wrapped a collar around his neck and Dean started to back away until he felt his back pressed against another body. He knew who it was by the widening of Jo’s eyes and he tried to turn his head to get a good look at Ford’s face but he was prevented by a large hand catching his chin and pulling it until Dean’s cheek was pressed into his shirt. “You would do well to let her collar you. If I cannot collar you I cannot control you and I will have no part of that. You should hear what the guards would do to you, if I weren’t here, if I sent you back to them.”

Dean stopped struggling at the voice. It was reminiscent of something but he could feel the heat of the words, the way they were spoken against his skin. The voice was warm but harsh, as if he hadn’t used it often and was only now becoming used to speaking. The hand on his face was gentle for all its strength and the body pressed against him was warm and firm. He tried not to think of how much blood he had to ingest to get that way.

The collar snapped shut around his throat and Ford’s other hand slipped the leash into the ring before handing it to Jo. “See to it he’s cleaned and dressed well,” Ford said to the slave. He dropped away from Dean then and even thought Dean turned as soon as he could, Ford’s back was already to him.

He stared for a minute but then there was a tug at his neck and he looked at Jo. “We have to go.”

“In a hurry to have your wicked way with me?” It was meant to be light hearted but the words had too much heat behind them, too much anger to be a simple joke. It didn’t take long in the slave pens to know how the hierarchy worked. He’d been left alone before because no one knew who he was, but if Jo and Ford knew who he was, then there would be a number of slaves that would want to make sure he understood he was the new meat in the market.

She eyed him up and down, appreciation in her gaze. “Master Ford has already warned the other that you’re off limits. You don’t need to worry that someone will try to take advantage of you.”

“Wait, he knew I was here?”

She smiled at him, showing both sets of teeth. “No, but he’s been looking for you for years Dean. You’ll understand later. For now, follow me.”

Dean didn’t have anything else to say. Why would Ford want him personally? He shivered, knowing there were plenty of creatures that would like to take a chunk out of a Winchester, any Winchester. He just hoped he survived long enough to find his escape route. There had to be a way if he was just patient enough. And once he escaped, he’d find out who did this to Jo, and they would pay.



He slept fitfully in the carriage. One of the things that had been destroyed in the war had been the oil reserves. The world was on fire for months. Gas was far too valuable to be wasted on something like a slave so while Ford had probably arrived at home the night before, Dean and Jo were forced to take the slower route. He felt every bump and turn and when he was finally comfortable enough to get some shut eye, the pull of his leash as Jo tightened it in her sleep made him wake.

He kept himself inside the carriage now, after a guard had nearly blacked his eye for peering out. He didn’t know if they thought he was trying to escape, or if they had orders to keep him inside, but that glimpse had been enough to see what he needed to know. There were six guards on the carriage, all vampiric. He couldn’t escape on the road as much as he’d been hoping his supposed acceptance would win him a little leeway.

When morning broke the sky, they were pulling through large iron gates that surrounded the property. The Manor House was large and he could see the new construction that continued its growth. He didn’t know if it was a new house or if Ford was just building up from what had originally been there, but it was an imposing property. He couldn’t help but be impressed with the amount of protective flora around the fences and the placement of devil’s traps and other symbols in the working of the iron fence as well.

Rumor said that Ford was paranoid. It also said he was a fighter, someone to avoid at all costs. He’d challenged one of the old ones to a duel three years before for owning a slave that Ford claimed wasn’t legal. Ford had claimed the vampire’s property and the slave after he’d beheaded him. Dean secretly cheered the death though. It was the vampire that had almost captured his father, the one that caused his death. As much as he hated the world’s new social class of Masters, he had been almost grateful at that death, even if he did wish he’d been the one to slice the sinew that held the vampire’s life.

“Breakfast will have to wait until you’re clean,” Jo said softly.

He didn’t realize she was awake. She was watching him as she leaned against one wall, her hand tightening on his leash. He wondered if she was scared of Ford or if she was just hoping for a reward for making sure Dean didn’t run. He hoped it was fear. He’d seen plenty of slaves, human and vampire alike, that had fallen in love with the people they called Master as a way to cope with the world they now lived in. He had no pity for them and he didn’t know how to feel about Jo giving up like that.

“Might take a while. Have to let you soak. Maybe get some bread sent up so you don’t pass out on me. You don’t look like you’ve been eating well.”

“Really?” he asked with a smirk. “You can see that?”

“Wasn’t looking for a cheap feel last night Dean. Master Ford wanted to know if you were still in shape or if they’d hurt you. Plenty of scars on that body of yours, but you’ve still got some muscle. I could feel your ribs though which means you’re too lean to keep your strength much longer. Don’t worry; I’m sure Master Ford will have you fattened up in no time.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want him to have to eat anything so stringy.”

She glared at him for a moment but then the carriage stopped and the door opened. She didn’t have to pull at the leash for him to follow. As much as he hated the circumstance he found himself in, he needed to move on, to see what was in store for him. The quicker he adapted to the new environment the quicker they would loosen the security around him.

The promise of a bath, of being clean didn’t hurt any either. Jo knew who he was, had faithfully relayed the information to her master, so he no longer felt the need to cling to the filth that had protected his identity. He just hoped he’d been in the pens long enough to remove the other scent, the one that let vampires know he was unbitten.

Jo didn’t give Dean time to take in his new surroundings though. She walked through the large double doors and into the immaculate house. He was ushered up a large staircase and Dean knew he’d have to do some exploring real fast to learn all the twists and turns of the house. Too many turns later and Jo led him into a large bathing room. He’d seen them before when he’d raided an Owner’s home. The bath was the size of a small pool, made for a Master to sit with his slaves in attendance, to choose which of his or her beauties would have the honor of washing them, cleaning them, servicing them in whatever fashion they wanted.

He took a step back but Jo’s grip on the leash held him there. “It’s just you and me,” she said, as if she could understand his fear. “Trust me, Master Ford wouldn’t touch you if you were the last thing on Earth.”

She walked over and undid the leash, setting it on a hook by the door. “The collar has GPS and a sensory stimulator,” she explained as she walked past him, shrugging out of her shirt. “You know what that means?”

He nodded and she continued to strip, obviously making use of the bathing pool to wash away the grime of the road. “So he’s going to shock me when I do something bad?” He had a good idea he already knew the answer to that. With a sensory stimulator he probably had the grounds wired so Dean wouldn’t be able to walk past the fence without being shocked into unconsciousness. They weren’t cheap but if you had enough money and status you could still find them. Ford was nothing if not excessive from what Dean had seen so far, so he didn’t put it past him.

Jo ignored the question and beckoned to him as she stepped into the warm water. “Come get cleaned up Dean.”

He could see the steam rising and he suddenly couldn’t get his clothes off quick enough. He dropped his clothes in a pile and followed Jo into the heat. He submerged himself in the water, scrubbing his scalp until he needed to come up for air. He went back under again though, scrubbing until it hurt. He hated the damn hair, wanted nothing more than to chop it all off but he’d have to do with scrubbing himself clean until he could. When he came up again, he looked over and saw Jo smiling softly at him.

“Let me help.”

At her words he moved over to her. There was a seat built into the side of the bathing pool and she sat up on it, pouring shampoo into her hands as he leaned back against her. Her hands worked a lather into his hair, her nails scratching his head softly in a manner he’d thought too rough for her demeanor. She pushed his head under water and when he came back up she continued to work her fingers in his hair.

“I can cut it if you want,” her voice was soft as she leaned closer, speaking the words in his ear. Her bare breast brushed against his back and he took a deep breath.

He turned to look at her, this beautiful creature that he’d known once upon a time. Her long blond hair hung wet around her shoulders, her skin pale as her blue eyes took him in. He reached a hand up, cupping her breast, his thumb teasing over her nipple. Her eyes closed as she tilted her head back slightly in submission. He was as hard as he could ever remember and it had been years since he’d allowed himself anything like this. He didn’t hesitate as he pulled her lips to his with one hand and reached between them with the other. He slipped one finger into her body and she was so damn tight he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. She snapped her hips forward though as her mouth opened to him and he added a second finger. When she moaned in his mouth it was too much. He pulled his fingers from her and pushed in with his cock. She felt better than anything he could remember and he had to still himself to keep from losing control as soon as he was sheathed inside her.

He pulled out nice and slow, felt the shift of her body with his and then he was slamming back into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders tight. He wasn’t going to last but he pulled back to look her in the eye, to see what he was doing to her. She tried to look away but Dean gripped her hair and forced her to look.

He pushed away as he did, pushed away from the look in her eyes no matter that his need was roaring in his ears.

“What the fuck?” he demanded as he watched the anger burning through her. She looked away from him but he persisted. “Why?”

She ignored him as he slid out of the pool, stopping at a small vanity to find another bottle, pouring lotion in her hands. He watched her rub it into her skin and then pull on a bath robe that sat on a hook beside his leash. She looked up at him then. “Master Ford asked me to make myself available to you,” she said softly, “in all ways.”

“So you’re not just a slave, you’re a whore.”

“Fuck you Dean!” She screamed at him.

He was horrified at the whole thing, but part of him was cheering because at least she still had some backbone.

“He’s never … he would never ask me …”

“… To whore yourself out. And yet here you are. Guess that whole being in love with your Master isn’t working so well for you after all.” His words were harsh but he couldn’t help himself. Jesus Christ he’d practically raped her, only it was all well and legal because her Master said it was. He wanted to be sick at the thought, but her anger forced him to focus on that.

“He’d never ask me for anyone but you,” she finished. “He’s been looking for you for years Dean. Years. You have no idea who he is and what he can do, but he’s never treated me like … like ...” she swallowed hard and he could see the tears in her eyes as he moved closer. “This is all your fault.”

“Jo,” there was nothing he could say to make that better. He didn’t know what the hell Ford was doing but he’d hurt Jo with this to try to appeal to Dean in some way. “I’m sorry.”

He watched her back straighten, watched the way she stifled the tears and forced her chin up. “Don’t be. Just come here. I was told to cut your hair. I think I remember how you used to wear it.”

“I don’t want it cut,” he said, instinctively wanting to put off anything Ford wanted of him.

“You can either come here and let me cut it, or I’ll simply use the collar and have the guards haul your unconscious ass out of the water. But be my guest, stay in the water. I don’t think it would bother me to see you writhing in pain about now. And the guards, well they can be a little handsy from time to time.”

He clenched his jaw but moved to her side anyway. She cut his hair and scrubbed the dirt from his face, and then sent for another slave. The girl came in, silently stealing into the water to wash him. She didn’t make a noise as she worked, just kept her eyes down and her hands moving over his skin until he was raw from it. He felt clean though, in ways he hadn’t in years.

The girl finished and left the pool, taking a bath robe from Jo as she leaned into her. Jo kissed her temple and smiled softly at her. “Good girl Jess, thank you.”

Jess gave Jo a pleased smile, and then looked back at Dean for one moment before leaving the room. They both watched the place she disappeared from for a moment before Jo started moving. “Come on Dean. I’m hungry and tired and we have a long night ahead of us.”

“What?”

“After lunch I suggest you take advantage of that bed of yours. There will be a party tonight and you’ll be attending, all night long. Master Ford is,” she smiled at him and he realized that Ford wasn’t the only vampire he had to watch out for. “showing off his newest collection. It’ll be a fun night.”

There was nothing he could say to that. Instead, he got out of the water and accepted the robe Jo gave him. He followed her to the kitchen for lunch, his leash firmly held once again in her hands.