The Fall of House Winchester - Part Four
Dinner was with Ford, though the vampire sat in the corner, sipping from a cup. Dean felt self-conscious with the arrangement and even though the food was amazing he had trouble eating it. He needed more information and while he didn’t want to get to know Ford any better, he seemed to be the only one that was going to talk to him.
He looked around the room and the dark romantic feel of the heavy fabrics and soft candlelight and smiled in Ford’s direction. “Seduction works so much better if you try it up close and personal.”
“Maybe I like watching you from a distance,” the vampire’s words were a caress against his skin and Dean shivered slightly with it. He didn’t know what it was about that voice, something familiar but untamed, wild and uncontrolled, but it reached him in ways he had to fight against.
“I’m prettier up close.”
“You’re pretty no matter how I look at you.”
“Maybe I’d like some company?”
“You can ask your questions from where you are, Dean. I won’t deny you the answers.”
Dean realized that Ford wasn’t going to come forward, not yet anyway and so he dropped it. He took a bite of chicken and watched the corner, wondering what it was that Ford was looking for in him. Jo seemed confused though she had been so certain at first. He wondered at the fear in her, at the shame he’d seen, but it was all in relation to him and Ford, never to herself and her own situation. Nothing about this made any sense.
“How old are you?”
The vampire laughed. “Not one for subtlety, are you?”
“If you know so much about me, you already knew that.”
“Fair enough,” there was humor in his voice though and Dean wondered exactly how well he did know Dean. “Twenty five.”
“You’ve been a vampire for twenty five years?” He knew a little about the vampire hierarchy and that didn’t seem old enough to be in the position he was now, one of the most feared vampires in the country.
“No, I’m twenty five. I was turned six years ago.”
Six years ago, after the damn treaty when the government had decided to turn away from humanity and embrace the darkest parts of its history to survive with the vampiric pestilence it couldn’t destroy. Dean grabbed for the bottle of beer and took a long pull, trying to wash down the disgust he was feeling.
“You don’t think much of me, of us.”
“You kill people to eat.”
“You kill chicken. It’s really not much different. If it makes you any happier though, I’ve never killed a person for food. I have plenty of slaves who think it’s an honor to serve me in that way.”
Dean snorted. “I bet.”
He could feel the tension in the air and he watched as Ford stood, coming closer. A mask covered his face and Dean wondered if the rest of his face was as scarred as the skin at his throat. He wondered if the vampire was so vain he couldn’t let his face be seen by others.
“There are ways to survive Dean, without killing. I have never, and would never, take a life like that. I will take blood, willingly given, or not willing if the punishment demands it, but I do not take pleasure from it. This was never what I wanted to become.”
“You’re saying you were turned against your will?” The thought appalled Dean. He didn’t expect vampires to live by the same moral code that he did, but the laws of the treaty had been perfectly clear. No one, not even a slave, could be turned against their will.
“Yes, the vampire that turned me cared very little for the treaty. He wanted,” he moved around the table, coming up behind Dean. He pulled him out of his seat and cupped his chin, forcing him to look up, “he wanted something pretty, something to keep for all eternity.”
Dean couldn’t stop the way his eyes darted down to Ford’s throat and the vampire laughed. “I wasn’t so convinced. In his anger, he became savage and destroyed what he thought he could keep.”
“He was the one that hurt Jessica.”
He could see Ford’s eyes harden as he nodded. “And Jo.”
“But Jo.”
“Would hardly cry out when they hurt her, would she? They took her freedom though and they broke her when they turned her.”
“And you helped.”
Ford’s fingers dug in harder. “Don’t compare me to the monster that did those things,” his voice was dangerously quiet. “I am a vampire, and yes, I own them, but I am not the monster that made them what they are.”
Dean knew he should back down but he couldn’t. His spine stiffened and his hands balled up into fists. “You’re just another breed of monster and one of these days, you’re going to find my knife slicing away your life.”
Ford’s hand dropped away from him and he backed away, eyes shouting desperation and shock in ways Dean couldn’t understand. He retreated back to the corner and Dean just stood there, staring back at him, trying to figure out what the hell that was.
It wasn’t fear. Whatever Ford was, he wasn’t afraid of Dean. The pain in his eyes, the panic, it brought something else to mind and he couldn’t place it. It hurt, cut him deeper than he could understand. He didn’t know how to react to it, what to say to get out of that moment.
“Sit down,” Ford said, his voice angry from across the room. Dean didn’t obey immediately but Ford didn’t seem to be in the mood for any more rebellion tonight. “Sit down and fucking eat your dinner.”
Dean took a deep breath as he stared into the darkness, and then finally dropped his eyes, sitting at the table, feeling the crushing darkness around him as he tried to choke down the rest of his food.
When he was done, servants came and collected the dishes and left silently. None so much as looked at Dean and he was okay with that for the moment. They left the room and Dean moved to stare out the window.
“It’s the best view in the manor,” Ford said softly.
His voice had lost its anger but there was an undercurrent of apprehension that Dean still couldn’t place. Nothing about Ford was what it should be.
“So you gave it to a slave?”
He didn’t hear Ford move, but he was behind him suddenly, his words whispered into Dean’s skin. “Do you think I give all my slaves such glorious rooms?” Dean shook his head because he didn’t trust his voice. Ford’s body was pressed against his back and he had to close his eyes as the memories of the night before flooded him. “These are my rooms Dean. They are the only rooms you will ever sleep in. You’ll share them with me, just like you’ll share everything with me, eventually.”
He didn’t answer the taunt. The vampire was convinced he would break but Dean knew himself better. They could force him, they could turn him, but he wouldn’t break for that.
“It’s been a long day for you,” Ford said, one hand on Dean’s hip as the other pulled him back, guiding them to the bed.
“No.”
“Yes. You can force me to do this or you can make this easier on yourself.”
Meaning he could either give in to the orders of the vampire or he could keep his dignity. It was different, agreeing to work out, to do the work in the yard with the others. He had objectives there; he needed to be there to get information so he could break out. Letting himself be led to Master Ford’s bed, to be shackled for the vampire to use as he would? It wasn’t something he could do.
“No.”
He didn’t have time to protest again because he was pushed back, the vampire using his strength to throw him down on the bed. The vampire snapped his wrists into the restraints and Dean pulled violently against them, wishing like hell he was strong enough to fight back already.
Ford pressed him back hard as he struggled, forcing Dean to the mattress, then leaned down, his full weight holding him in place. “God the way you smell right now Dean,” he whispered.
He felt teeth nipping at his neck but they weren’t pointed, weren’t the sharp teeth he knew could rip his throat apart. “Thought you weren’t going to force me,” he prayed his voice was stronger than he felt, desperation ripping through him. He’d never been bitten, never let any vampire close enough to take a bite and he had to keep it that way.
“Except as punishment,” Ford said, licking lightly at his neck. “You certainly deserve it today Dean.”
He sat up though, walking away from the bed and when he came back there was a knife in his hand.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not going to bleed you Dean,” Ford said softly like he would to a skittish child. He brought the knife up to the hem of Dean’s shirt and began cutting away the fabric.
“I liked this shirt,” Dean said, trying to hide the fear that was racing through him. Bravado was all he had left at the moment.
“So did I,” Ford answered as he cut one arm open. He looked up at Dean, eyes smiling, “suppose I’ll just have to find you another one.”
When the shirt was gone, Ford put the knife away and came back, pulling off Dean’s shoes and socks. When his hand came to the buttons of his jeans Dean froze.
“I’m fine sleeping like this, thanks.”
“I’m not,” Ford said, slipping the button free before he pulled at the zipper.
Dean closed his eyes but not before he saw the want and need in the vampire’s eyes. He felt his jeans being pulled off and then Ford was back, whispering in his ear as his fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers.
“I know how much you hate this Dean, how you hate the monsters touching you. How humiliated you must feel when I’m undressing you, but you had the choice. When you leave it up to me, I’ll always take it further.”
His boxers were pulled down and he was left naked on the bed, shackled as Master Ford stood beside him. Dean opened his eyes as Ford began pulling his jacket off, throwing it over onto the chair at the side of the bed before undoing the buttons of his shirt. Dean couldn’t help but admire the muscular chest and strong wide shoulders. Even if he hadn’t been vampiric, the muscle on him would have been formidable.
A dark chuckle escaped Ford’s lips and he realized he’d been caught staring. He tried to look away but the room was thrown in shadows, the way Ford seemed to prefer it, and his eyes were drawn back to the pale flesh the light revealed.
Ford slowly lowered the zipper of his pants before sliding his fingers under the waist band and pushing everything else off. Dean’s eyes took in sharply defined calves and strong powerful thighs, covered in a light dusting of hair. Ripped abs and just beneath, a hard, leaking cock that jutted up against his stomach as he stood there, letting Dean look his fill.
He turned away again, knowing without a doubt that the last couple days, Jessica and Jo, they’d all been a way to get him so worked up sexually that he didn’t have a chance against his body’s desires.
Ford crawled on top of him and Dean tried to buck him off, but the vampire anticipated that, bringing his legs up between Dean’s thighs so he could pin him more completely. He bit his lip to keep from moaning at the friction on his cock but Ford was there, whispering in his ear again.
“I can smell it, Dean, your desire,” he said as he nipped at his neck. “I can feel the desperation in you. You’re fighting this so hard, but I know how to handle you, I know how to break you.”
He thrust his hips up against Dean’s but Dean remained still, refusing to give in to the physical need no matter what the vampire was doing.
“How did it feel last night Dean?” Ford asked, bracing his arms on either side of Dean’s face. “How did it feel to fall asleep with my come on you? Knowing I could take you any time I wanted.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” Dean forced the words out.
Ford laughed as he stared into Dean’s green eyes. “It isn’t fear I smell when I talk to you like that, Dean,” He thrust up again and let his head fall back, and Dean took his chance then. Ford’s position gave him just enough space to work his knees up between them and he pushed, knocking Ford into the large post at the end of the bed. He was up on his knees a second later, crouched because the chains gave him no space.
Ford’s eyes were wide behind his mask and Dean wanted to throttle him, wanted a knife so bad his fingers itched for it.
Ford smiled then, his hand reaching between his legs as he stroked himself. “God, Dean, so fucking wild,” he said as his whole body began to quake. He watched the way Ford’s fingers squeezed and pulled, twisting at the end of each stroke, wringing a groan from the vampire. “So fucking untamable,” His voice rose as Dean watched his orgasm hit, come spilling from over his hands as he kept his eyes on Dean.
Dean’s body shuddered and Ford crawled up the bed slowly, telegraphing every move. When he finally reached Dean he reached out a hand, his thumb tracking over Dean’s lower lip. “Untamable, but still mine.” Ford said with a hint of glee in his eyes. “I will keep you chained forever if I have to, but you are mine.”
He moved back then, turning to crawl under the covers on the bed beside Dean. Dean stayed where he was for a while, trying to still the racing of his heart, to push down the raging need. He finally unclenched his fists and let himself relax. He didn’t crawl under the covers with the vampire, didn’t stretch his legs out to make himself comfortable. It was a prison and he shouldn’t let himself be comfortable there. It was what Ford wanted. He wanted him to feel like it was less of a prison and more of a choice that he was making. It wasn’t. It just made Dean more determined to get free than ever.
He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the headboard, hands at his side, knees held to his chest as he tried to get into the sleeping position he’d been in the slave pens, always ready to come up swinging if need be.
He let his head fall back and licked his lips, moaning at the taste, the slight trace of Ford’s come that the vampire had left there for him. He looked over at the vampire and found him watching through the damn mask, his smirk knocking something loose in Dean as he forced himself to look away. As he forced himself to remember he was nothing more than the creature’s slave.
He began fighting against everything after that. Ford never lost his patience, although Jo did. Every time she lashed out, with tongue or fist, it reminded him what he was, why he was there. Every night when he curled up on the bed, fighting against whatever Ford did, it reminded him of who he was and why he needed to be free.
Ford never forced him to do anything, except to be there. The most he did was rub himself off on Dean’s body, whispering in his ear how good it would be when Dean finally gave in. The worst was when Dean fought him off and Ford would watch, stroking himself off as he stared into Dean’s eyes, possessive and hungry from across the bed.
Every day after his work out Jo took him to the barn and he would unwrap his baby, taking in the sight of the Impala, remembering the feel of her under his hands, the feeling of freedom as he drove on a long stretch of road. He remembered for a few minutes what it had felt like, his brother at his side, the warring annoyance at his big brother and hero worship when Dean managed to talk their father into something inane like staying in one place a month longer for Sam to finish up the semester.
He relished the memories, took strength in them every day.
It wasn’t always enough though.
Some nights, it was too hard, too much. When Ford rolled onto his side, eyes slipping closed, instead of imagining how he could kill him, what he could use, if he could only get his hands free, to wrench his head off his shoulders, he closed his eyes and imagined it was Ford’s hand on his cock. The first time he’d worked his hand fast and hard, punishing himself until release came, biting his lip to keep silent.
The next day he’d been asked to go work in the back sheds instead of helping the construction crew. It turned out that Ford’s main business was transportation. There weren’t a lot of cars on the road anymore with the trouble and expense it took to get gas and oil, but Ford seemed to have a market in servicing them. He also seemed to have a fair number of carriages and steam boats that were either made or repaired by his people.
Instead of an exhausting and boring day of construction he was under the hood of a car, working on something he enjoyed.
That night he fought back harder, not just against Ford but against himself. His shackles were no longer chains, but a thick metal cable that gave him more room to move, more room to fight. He had a good idea he knew what Ford wanted him to do with the extra room, but the vampire simply laughed when Dean threw him off, laughed as he pinned his hands over his head and shot all over his stomach. When morning came, he went back to the construction crew and stayed there.
It took another two weeks before it happened again, his body’s need overcoming his hatred of the situation and he worked himself slowly, quietly hoping the vampire was too far asleep to hear him. He felt the shift in the bed though, felt the warm hand on his hip and as Ford bit lightly at his neck he came so hard he nearly blacked out.
He was back with the motor crew again the next day, being shown the difference in the steam engines, soaking in what he could of the knowledge.
The third time it happened, Ford had turned him onto his back at the last moment, forcing him to look into his eyes as he came.
The next morning he stared out across the barn, his hands resting on the metal of his car, but nothing could erase the bitterness at the back of his throat. He had to get away. He was running on fumes, his resistance becoming less and less as he fought against Ford’s hold on him.
What was worse was that he could understand why the slaves didn’t want to escape, why they did what they could to please him. He was a good master; he took care of them and gave them what they needed. It was never just enough to survive, he let them live. They were his property, but they had housing in the far estates, two to a room. There were no slave pens like Dean had been a part of. They were kept healthy and clean, their master giving them the privacy he denied Dean. They ate well, better than free men most days, and they were given time for themselves. He used them like workers, not slaves. If he had to be a slave then he wouldn’t want to be belong to anyone else either.
It was that thought that hurt more than anything, the thought that maybe he should just settle where he was. Ford obviously wanted him to be happy here, was willing to give him whatever he asked, so long as he gave in to the few demands he made of him.
He had to get out before he became like the rest of them, like Jo and her goddamned need to serve, Jess and those bright eyes and sweet smiles that rewarded him every time he did as Master Ford asked when they were entertaining guests or simply having dinner alone.
He took a deep breath and that was when Jo came closer, unlatching his leash. He looked up and she was motioning to the Impala. “Master Ford said he wanted you to take a look at it. Most of the cars in here are just fancies he found along the way, nothing important, but this one is special to him. He wants her in good working condition. You have this afternoon to do it.”
Dean looked at the keys in her hand and took them, running his fingers over the edge, recognizing the keys to other things as well, his Post Office boxes in Montana and Texas, and the key to Pastor Jim’s back door. Not that any of them were worth anything now, but they were his memories, something else to be gleaned from his afternoon of freedom.
He started the car up and listened to her, making notes in his head of what he heard. It was easy to lose himself in that, to get covered in grease and oil and to imagine Sammy sitting on the other side, drinking iced tea as he talked about English class and how Becky Worthington thought he was going to ask her to the prom, except they already knew they wouldn’t be there for it.
“Dean, it’s time to get cleaned up,” Jo called out later.
He looked up when she did and realized how late it had gotten. They always went in before true dark but tonight their walk back to the house was quiet, nothing but the moon to guide their steps. Jess bathed him quickly, not taking her time to work out stressed muscles. He was okay with that. He felt as exhausted as ever, but working on the impala had always been a sort of stress reliever for him so he didn’t need it tonight like he usually did.
To his surprise though, as she settled the soft burgundy shirt over his shoulders, she pressed up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek lightly. Before he could say anything, she grabbed his leash from the wall and walked out without hooking it into his collar.
He followed her back to Master Ford’s room and took a deep breath as the smells overtook him. “Damn, I’m hungry,” he said as he stepped into the room.
Ford laughed lightly in the corner. He was always there early, working his way closer as Dean ate. “You’re late. I thought I was going to have to send it back to the kitchen untouched.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. He figured if Ford was really upset about it he’d have sent Jo for him earlier but it never hurt to stay on the master’s good side. “I got a little lost in work today.”
“Eat,” Ford said, smiling behind his mask. “I know it’s your favorite.”
Dean took a seat and relished the first bite of steak, medium rare with just the right amount of spice. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. Yeah, he ate well at Master Ford’s table, but that didn’t mean he ate steak every night. The damn vampire had apparently loved fish as a human and he forced it on Dean far more often than he’d like. He’d take a steak over that everyday, and Ford knew it.
It was just as well though. He was back in fighting shape and the last thing he needed was to get fattened up now that he was ready.
He took a long pull from the beer bottle and rolled it in his finger tips, missing the companionship of his father and brother. He’d come to accept Jessica as well, though she couldn’t talk, her eyes and the way she held her mouth were expressive and he could see when she was calling bullshit on his stories or when she believed every word of it. She was normally right too.
He looked across the darkness and let out a deep breath. “Why don’t you join me?” he asked Ford.
Ford stilled in his corner for a moment, the still that only the dead could really accomplish, then stood. He came closer and Dean realized that since the first meal he’d taken in the room, he’d never asked again.
He felt nervous suddenly, remembered what had happened the night before and the look in Ford’s eyes as he’d watched Dean lose control. He set the beer on the table and took another bite of steak to keep from having to say anything just yet.
“How is the Impala running?” Ford asked, taking the conversation into something Dean could more easily navigate.
“Good. You’ve obviously had someone looking after her, but nobody knows my baby like I do. I’d like to get her oil changed, take a couple more days to clean her up right. She shouldn’t be left in the barn to rot like that. She needs to be driven.”
“We’ll have to see what I can work out,” Ford said with a small smile. He drank deeply from his cup and Dean couldn’t help but notice the dark stain on his lips, the blood that colored his tongue.
“How do you get it?” he asked as he indicated the cup.
Ford set the cup on the table, his fingers twirling the stem of the dark colored wine glass. “The same way doctors take blood. It doesn’t store long that way, but we make do. I don’t keep many vampires on the grounds, and we have more than enough humans who are willing to donate to earn extra favors.”
“They give blood for favors?”
“You know Jake from the motor crew?” Dean nodded as he continued to eat. He’d never asked about the blood before but in the three months he’d been there he’d never seen anyone with an opened vein.
“He’s marrying Maggie who runs the paperwork for me in the construction crew. He asked if he could donate blood to get free time for a honeymoon. They both did.”
“And you let them,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Ford wasn’t the monster most slave owners were.
“I let him donate blood. It seemed wrong to make them both do it, especially when we don’t need that much on a regular basis. They’ll be at the Winchester House next week. I figure I can’t let them off the property or someone will think they’ve run away, but they can have the house for a week as a reward for their service.”
Dean shook his head. “Why do it? Why give them anything extra when they’re just slaves?”
“No one deserves to be unhappy,” Ford said as he looked into his cup. “No one deserves to live these lives.”
“Then why own slaves at all if you believe that?”
“I’m only a man,” he paused, scoffing at himself as he took the last drink from his glass. He stood and walked away, looking out the window across the grounds. “I’m not even that. I’m something you hunt,” he said softly over his shoulder at Dean, “and as much as I hate what I’ve become, I can never be anything but what I am.”
Dean came up behind him. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for the creature’s plight but he did. Ford always managed to screw up his insides, to make him think and feel and do things he wouldn’t were it anyone else. He tugged at something Dean couldn’t remember, something he wished to hell he’d forget.
“Enough of that,” Ford said softly. “It’s time for bed. You might have worked late but some of us were up early.”
Dean nodded, wondering if Ford had ever considered giving them their freedom. He let himself be led to the bed, and sat on the edge. Ford watched him for a second but then he was unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Dean shook his head, pulling his own shirt off. When he was stripped naked he climbed into the bed.
When he closed his eyes, his imagination took him back to the Impala. He could still feel it under his hands. He remembered sleeping in the back seat with his brother snuggling against his side. He could remember lying across the hood, sitting in the sun with Sammy resting his head on his thigh.
He felt a body pressed against his back and he took a deep breath, tired from the day’s work, from the emotional toll working on the Impala caused him. He was too tired to do anything more than stretch his limbs as a kiss was pressed to the base of his neck.
He closed his eyes and felt the curve of Ford’s body against him, felt the hard press of his cock rubbing over his skin, pressing into the back of his balls as he got the friction he needed.
“Dean,” the voice was so much lower than usual, the ever rough sound of it hitting Dean hard in the gut. Ford’s hips thrust hard against him, quicker and Dean didn’t notice Ford’s hand moving from his hip until his fingers were brushing against his cock. He moaned into it, his hips reacting on instinct, thrusting as those long strong fingers wrapped around him.
“Oh god, Dean.”
He knew he should stop. The voice, the need in it brought him back to who he was but he was tired and he needed so damn much to just get the hell off. He let his head fall back, resting against the vampire’s shoulder as he let his body fall into the rhythm of the hand wrapped around him.
A nip at his shoulder made him moan and he wondered how long it would be before he’d try that, before he’d ask for a vein. He wasn’t sure he’d say no right now, if it meant he could go back to the Impala the next day, his own version of a reward for services rendered.
The thought jerking him away from the lazy acceptance he’d been offering and he tried to jerk up, but the arm over his hip was too strong, the grip on his cock never faltering as he tried to late to stop himself. “No!” His body went tight as his orgasm ripped through him though, Ford milking him through the last breathless shudders.
Dean lay there, unable to think beyond his body’s betrayal. It had all been a ploy, he knew it, he’d always understood that Ford was manipulating him little by little but he’d never once let himself give in to anything he asked just so he could receive those favors. He never once meant to give in, only tonight he had. A few moments of weakness and he’d let the vampire touch him, gave him the one thing he’d asked for every night since Dean had come into his possession.
“Dean... ”
Dean pulled away from Ford, bringing his hands up over his head. “Lock me up,” he demanded.
Ford’s hand cupped his cheek and though Dean tried to pull away from the touch the vampire’s strength was too much. “Don’t do this.”
Dean pulled his face away and Ford let him. He knew it was the vampire’s choice and damn how that stung but he couldn’t look at him now, not after this. He turned his body away but kept his arms raised over his head, ready for the shackles. “Lock my damn arms up.”
“Dean,” he said softly, his hand pulling Dean back towards him. He fit perfectly in the curve of his master’s body and his hand ran down Dean’s side until it was resting gently on Dean’s hip. “My love, I don’t need to keep you locked up anymore,” he whispered sadly. “You’re mine now.”
The darkness of the room closed around him as he felt Ford’s damning words echo in his head. He didn’t move his arms. He held them tight over his head waiting for the shackles, even as he felt Ford’s tears against his skin. He didn’t know vampires could cry. He didn’t know he could anymore either, but when he felt Ford licking them away, his lips brushing Dean’s in solemn damnation, he could taste the salt from their combined tears and he knew he was broken.
Damn them all, they were both broken.
He looked around the room and the dark romantic feel of the heavy fabrics and soft candlelight and smiled in Ford’s direction. “Seduction works so much better if you try it up close and personal.”
“Maybe I like watching you from a distance,” the vampire’s words were a caress against his skin and Dean shivered slightly with it. He didn’t know what it was about that voice, something familiar but untamed, wild and uncontrolled, but it reached him in ways he had to fight against.
“I’m prettier up close.”
“You’re pretty no matter how I look at you.”
“Maybe I’d like some company?”
“You can ask your questions from where you are, Dean. I won’t deny you the answers.”
Dean realized that Ford wasn’t going to come forward, not yet anyway and so he dropped it. He took a bite of chicken and watched the corner, wondering what it was that Ford was looking for in him. Jo seemed confused though she had been so certain at first. He wondered at the fear in her, at the shame he’d seen, but it was all in relation to him and Ford, never to herself and her own situation. Nothing about this made any sense.
“How old are you?”
The vampire laughed. “Not one for subtlety, are you?”
“If you know so much about me, you already knew that.”
“Fair enough,” there was humor in his voice though and Dean wondered exactly how well he did know Dean. “Twenty five.”
“You’ve been a vampire for twenty five years?” He knew a little about the vampire hierarchy and that didn’t seem old enough to be in the position he was now, one of the most feared vampires in the country.
“No, I’m twenty five. I was turned six years ago.”
Six years ago, after the damn treaty when the government had decided to turn away from humanity and embrace the darkest parts of its history to survive with the vampiric pestilence it couldn’t destroy. Dean grabbed for the bottle of beer and took a long pull, trying to wash down the disgust he was feeling.
“You don’t think much of me, of us.”
“You kill people to eat.”
“You kill chicken. It’s really not much different. If it makes you any happier though, I’ve never killed a person for food. I have plenty of slaves who think it’s an honor to serve me in that way.”
Dean snorted. “I bet.”
He could feel the tension in the air and he watched as Ford stood, coming closer. A mask covered his face and Dean wondered if the rest of his face was as scarred as the skin at his throat. He wondered if the vampire was so vain he couldn’t let his face be seen by others.
“There are ways to survive Dean, without killing. I have never, and would never, take a life like that. I will take blood, willingly given, or not willing if the punishment demands it, but I do not take pleasure from it. This was never what I wanted to become.”
“You’re saying you were turned against your will?” The thought appalled Dean. He didn’t expect vampires to live by the same moral code that he did, but the laws of the treaty had been perfectly clear. No one, not even a slave, could be turned against their will.
“Yes, the vampire that turned me cared very little for the treaty. He wanted,” he moved around the table, coming up behind Dean. He pulled him out of his seat and cupped his chin, forcing him to look up, “he wanted something pretty, something to keep for all eternity.”
Dean couldn’t stop the way his eyes darted down to Ford’s throat and the vampire laughed. “I wasn’t so convinced. In his anger, he became savage and destroyed what he thought he could keep.”
“He was the one that hurt Jessica.”
He could see Ford’s eyes harden as he nodded. “And Jo.”
“But Jo.”
“Would hardly cry out when they hurt her, would she? They took her freedom though and they broke her when they turned her.”
“And you helped.”
Ford’s fingers dug in harder. “Don’t compare me to the monster that did those things,” his voice was dangerously quiet. “I am a vampire, and yes, I own them, but I am not the monster that made them what they are.”
Dean knew he should back down but he couldn’t. His spine stiffened and his hands balled up into fists. “You’re just another breed of monster and one of these days, you’re going to find my knife slicing away your life.”
Ford’s hand dropped away from him and he backed away, eyes shouting desperation and shock in ways Dean couldn’t understand. He retreated back to the corner and Dean just stood there, staring back at him, trying to figure out what the hell that was.
It wasn’t fear. Whatever Ford was, he wasn’t afraid of Dean. The pain in his eyes, the panic, it brought something else to mind and he couldn’t place it. It hurt, cut him deeper than he could understand. He didn’t know how to react to it, what to say to get out of that moment.
“Sit down,” Ford said, his voice angry from across the room. Dean didn’t obey immediately but Ford didn’t seem to be in the mood for any more rebellion tonight. “Sit down and fucking eat your dinner.”
Dean took a deep breath as he stared into the darkness, and then finally dropped his eyes, sitting at the table, feeling the crushing darkness around him as he tried to choke down the rest of his food.
When he was done, servants came and collected the dishes and left silently. None so much as looked at Dean and he was okay with that for the moment. They left the room and Dean moved to stare out the window.
“It’s the best view in the manor,” Ford said softly.
His voice had lost its anger but there was an undercurrent of apprehension that Dean still couldn’t place. Nothing about Ford was what it should be.
“So you gave it to a slave?”
He didn’t hear Ford move, but he was behind him suddenly, his words whispered into Dean’s skin. “Do you think I give all my slaves such glorious rooms?” Dean shook his head because he didn’t trust his voice. Ford’s body was pressed against his back and he had to close his eyes as the memories of the night before flooded him. “These are my rooms Dean. They are the only rooms you will ever sleep in. You’ll share them with me, just like you’ll share everything with me, eventually.”
He didn’t answer the taunt. The vampire was convinced he would break but Dean knew himself better. They could force him, they could turn him, but he wouldn’t break for that.
“It’s been a long day for you,” Ford said, one hand on Dean’s hip as the other pulled him back, guiding them to the bed.
“No.”
“Yes. You can force me to do this or you can make this easier on yourself.”
Meaning he could either give in to the orders of the vampire or he could keep his dignity. It was different, agreeing to work out, to do the work in the yard with the others. He had objectives there; he needed to be there to get information so he could break out. Letting himself be led to Master Ford’s bed, to be shackled for the vampire to use as he would? It wasn’t something he could do.
“No.”
He didn’t have time to protest again because he was pushed back, the vampire using his strength to throw him down on the bed. The vampire snapped his wrists into the restraints and Dean pulled violently against them, wishing like hell he was strong enough to fight back already.
Ford pressed him back hard as he struggled, forcing Dean to the mattress, then leaned down, his full weight holding him in place. “God the way you smell right now Dean,” he whispered.
He felt teeth nipping at his neck but they weren’t pointed, weren’t the sharp teeth he knew could rip his throat apart. “Thought you weren’t going to force me,” he prayed his voice was stronger than he felt, desperation ripping through him. He’d never been bitten, never let any vampire close enough to take a bite and he had to keep it that way.
“Except as punishment,” Ford said, licking lightly at his neck. “You certainly deserve it today Dean.”
He sat up though, walking away from the bed and when he came back there was a knife in his hand.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not going to bleed you Dean,” Ford said softly like he would to a skittish child. He brought the knife up to the hem of Dean’s shirt and began cutting away the fabric.
“I liked this shirt,” Dean said, trying to hide the fear that was racing through him. Bravado was all he had left at the moment.
“So did I,” Ford answered as he cut one arm open. He looked up at Dean, eyes smiling, “suppose I’ll just have to find you another one.”
When the shirt was gone, Ford put the knife away and came back, pulling off Dean’s shoes and socks. When his hand came to the buttons of his jeans Dean froze.
“I’m fine sleeping like this, thanks.”
“I’m not,” Ford said, slipping the button free before he pulled at the zipper.
Dean closed his eyes but not before he saw the want and need in the vampire’s eyes. He felt his jeans being pulled off and then Ford was back, whispering in his ear as his fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers.
“I know how much you hate this Dean, how you hate the monsters touching you. How humiliated you must feel when I’m undressing you, but you had the choice. When you leave it up to me, I’ll always take it further.”
His boxers were pulled down and he was left naked on the bed, shackled as Master Ford stood beside him. Dean opened his eyes as Ford began pulling his jacket off, throwing it over onto the chair at the side of the bed before undoing the buttons of his shirt. Dean couldn’t help but admire the muscular chest and strong wide shoulders. Even if he hadn’t been vampiric, the muscle on him would have been formidable.
A dark chuckle escaped Ford’s lips and he realized he’d been caught staring. He tried to look away but the room was thrown in shadows, the way Ford seemed to prefer it, and his eyes were drawn back to the pale flesh the light revealed.
Ford slowly lowered the zipper of his pants before sliding his fingers under the waist band and pushing everything else off. Dean’s eyes took in sharply defined calves and strong powerful thighs, covered in a light dusting of hair. Ripped abs and just beneath, a hard, leaking cock that jutted up against his stomach as he stood there, letting Dean look his fill.
He turned away again, knowing without a doubt that the last couple days, Jessica and Jo, they’d all been a way to get him so worked up sexually that he didn’t have a chance against his body’s desires.
Ford crawled on top of him and Dean tried to buck him off, but the vampire anticipated that, bringing his legs up between Dean’s thighs so he could pin him more completely. He bit his lip to keep from moaning at the friction on his cock but Ford was there, whispering in his ear again.
“I can smell it, Dean, your desire,” he said as he nipped at his neck. “I can feel the desperation in you. You’re fighting this so hard, but I know how to handle you, I know how to break you.”
He thrust his hips up against Dean’s but Dean remained still, refusing to give in to the physical need no matter what the vampire was doing.
“How did it feel last night Dean?” Ford asked, bracing his arms on either side of Dean’s face. “How did it feel to fall asleep with my come on you? Knowing I could take you any time I wanted.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” Dean forced the words out.
Ford laughed as he stared into Dean’s green eyes. “It isn’t fear I smell when I talk to you like that, Dean,” He thrust up again and let his head fall back, and Dean took his chance then. Ford’s position gave him just enough space to work his knees up between them and he pushed, knocking Ford into the large post at the end of the bed. He was up on his knees a second later, crouched because the chains gave him no space.
Ford’s eyes were wide behind his mask and Dean wanted to throttle him, wanted a knife so bad his fingers itched for it.
Ford smiled then, his hand reaching between his legs as he stroked himself. “God, Dean, so fucking wild,” he said as his whole body began to quake. He watched the way Ford’s fingers squeezed and pulled, twisting at the end of each stroke, wringing a groan from the vampire. “So fucking untamable,” His voice rose as Dean watched his orgasm hit, come spilling from over his hands as he kept his eyes on Dean.
Dean’s body shuddered and Ford crawled up the bed slowly, telegraphing every move. When he finally reached Dean he reached out a hand, his thumb tracking over Dean’s lower lip. “Untamable, but still mine.” Ford said with a hint of glee in his eyes. “I will keep you chained forever if I have to, but you are mine.”
He moved back then, turning to crawl under the covers on the bed beside Dean. Dean stayed where he was for a while, trying to still the racing of his heart, to push down the raging need. He finally unclenched his fists and let himself relax. He didn’t crawl under the covers with the vampire, didn’t stretch his legs out to make himself comfortable. It was a prison and he shouldn’t let himself be comfortable there. It was what Ford wanted. He wanted him to feel like it was less of a prison and more of a choice that he was making. It wasn’t. It just made Dean more determined to get free than ever.
He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the headboard, hands at his side, knees held to his chest as he tried to get into the sleeping position he’d been in the slave pens, always ready to come up swinging if need be.
He let his head fall back and licked his lips, moaning at the taste, the slight trace of Ford’s come that the vampire had left there for him. He looked over at the vampire and found him watching through the damn mask, his smirk knocking something loose in Dean as he forced himself to look away. As he forced himself to remember he was nothing more than the creature’s slave.
He began fighting against everything after that. Ford never lost his patience, although Jo did. Every time she lashed out, with tongue or fist, it reminded him what he was, why he was there. Every night when he curled up on the bed, fighting against whatever Ford did, it reminded him of who he was and why he needed to be free.
Ford never forced him to do anything, except to be there. The most he did was rub himself off on Dean’s body, whispering in his ear how good it would be when Dean finally gave in. The worst was when Dean fought him off and Ford would watch, stroking himself off as he stared into Dean’s eyes, possessive and hungry from across the bed.
Every day after his work out Jo took him to the barn and he would unwrap his baby, taking in the sight of the Impala, remembering the feel of her under his hands, the feeling of freedom as he drove on a long stretch of road. He remembered for a few minutes what it had felt like, his brother at his side, the warring annoyance at his big brother and hero worship when Dean managed to talk their father into something inane like staying in one place a month longer for Sam to finish up the semester.
He relished the memories, took strength in them every day.
It wasn’t always enough though.
Some nights, it was too hard, too much. When Ford rolled onto his side, eyes slipping closed, instead of imagining how he could kill him, what he could use, if he could only get his hands free, to wrench his head off his shoulders, he closed his eyes and imagined it was Ford’s hand on his cock. The first time he’d worked his hand fast and hard, punishing himself until release came, biting his lip to keep silent.
The next day he’d been asked to go work in the back sheds instead of helping the construction crew. It turned out that Ford’s main business was transportation. There weren’t a lot of cars on the road anymore with the trouble and expense it took to get gas and oil, but Ford seemed to have a market in servicing them. He also seemed to have a fair number of carriages and steam boats that were either made or repaired by his people.
Instead of an exhausting and boring day of construction he was under the hood of a car, working on something he enjoyed.
That night he fought back harder, not just against Ford but against himself. His shackles were no longer chains, but a thick metal cable that gave him more room to move, more room to fight. He had a good idea he knew what Ford wanted him to do with the extra room, but the vampire simply laughed when Dean threw him off, laughed as he pinned his hands over his head and shot all over his stomach. When morning came, he went back to the construction crew and stayed there.
It took another two weeks before it happened again, his body’s need overcoming his hatred of the situation and he worked himself slowly, quietly hoping the vampire was too far asleep to hear him. He felt the shift in the bed though, felt the warm hand on his hip and as Ford bit lightly at his neck he came so hard he nearly blacked out.
He was back with the motor crew again the next day, being shown the difference in the steam engines, soaking in what he could of the knowledge.
The third time it happened, Ford had turned him onto his back at the last moment, forcing him to look into his eyes as he came.
The next morning he stared out across the barn, his hands resting on the metal of his car, but nothing could erase the bitterness at the back of his throat. He had to get away. He was running on fumes, his resistance becoming less and less as he fought against Ford’s hold on him.
What was worse was that he could understand why the slaves didn’t want to escape, why they did what they could to please him. He was a good master; he took care of them and gave them what they needed. It was never just enough to survive, he let them live. They were his property, but they had housing in the far estates, two to a room. There were no slave pens like Dean had been a part of. They were kept healthy and clean, their master giving them the privacy he denied Dean. They ate well, better than free men most days, and they were given time for themselves. He used them like workers, not slaves. If he had to be a slave then he wouldn’t want to be belong to anyone else either.
It was that thought that hurt more than anything, the thought that maybe he should just settle where he was. Ford obviously wanted him to be happy here, was willing to give him whatever he asked, so long as he gave in to the few demands he made of him.
He had to get out before he became like the rest of them, like Jo and her goddamned need to serve, Jess and those bright eyes and sweet smiles that rewarded him every time he did as Master Ford asked when they were entertaining guests or simply having dinner alone.
He took a deep breath and that was when Jo came closer, unlatching his leash. He looked up and she was motioning to the Impala. “Master Ford said he wanted you to take a look at it. Most of the cars in here are just fancies he found along the way, nothing important, but this one is special to him. He wants her in good working condition. You have this afternoon to do it.”
Dean looked at the keys in her hand and took them, running his fingers over the edge, recognizing the keys to other things as well, his Post Office boxes in Montana and Texas, and the key to Pastor Jim’s back door. Not that any of them were worth anything now, but they were his memories, something else to be gleaned from his afternoon of freedom.
He started the car up and listened to her, making notes in his head of what he heard. It was easy to lose himself in that, to get covered in grease and oil and to imagine Sammy sitting on the other side, drinking iced tea as he talked about English class and how Becky Worthington thought he was going to ask her to the prom, except they already knew they wouldn’t be there for it.
“Dean, it’s time to get cleaned up,” Jo called out later.
He looked up when she did and realized how late it had gotten. They always went in before true dark but tonight their walk back to the house was quiet, nothing but the moon to guide their steps. Jess bathed him quickly, not taking her time to work out stressed muscles. He was okay with that. He felt as exhausted as ever, but working on the impala had always been a sort of stress reliever for him so he didn’t need it tonight like he usually did.
To his surprise though, as she settled the soft burgundy shirt over his shoulders, she pressed up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek lightly. Before he could say anything, she grabbed his leash from the wall and walked out without hooking it into his collar.
He followed her back to Master Ford’s room and took a deep breath as the smells overtook him. “Damn, I’m hungry,” he said as he stepped into the room.
Ford laughed lightly in the corner. He was always there early, working his way closer as Dean ate. “You’re late. I thought I was going to have to send it back to the kitchen untouched.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. He figured if Ford was really upset about it he’d have sent Jo for him earlier but it never hurt to stay on the master’s good side. “I got a little lost in work today.”
“Eat,” Ford said, smiling behind his mask. “I know it’s your favorite.”
Dean took a seat and relished the first bite of steak, medium rare with just the right amount of spice. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. Yeah, he ate well at Master Ford’s table, but that didn’t mean he ate steak every night. The damn vampire had apparently loved fish as a human and he forced it on Dean far more often than he’d like. He’d take a steak over that everyday, and Ford knew it.
It was just as well though. He was back in fighting shape and the last thing he needed was to get fattened up now that he was ready.
He took a long pull from the beer bottle and rolled it in his finger tips, missing the companionship of his father and brother. He’d come to accept Jessica as well, though she couldn’t talk, her eyes and the way she held her mouth were expressive and he could see when she was calling bullshit on his stories or when she believed every word of it. She was normally right too.
He looked across the darkness and let out a deep breath. “Why don’t you join me?” he asked Ford.
Ford stilled in his corner for a moment, the still that only the dead could really accomplish, then stood. He came closer and Dean realized that since the first meal he’d taken in the room, he’d never asked again.
He felt nervous suddenly, remembered what had happened the night before and the look in Ford’s eyes as he’d watched Dean lose control. He set the beer on the table and took another bite of steak to keep from having to say anything just yet.
“How is the Impala running?” Ford asked, taking the conversation into something Dean could more easily navigate.
“Good. You’ve obviously had someone looking after her, but nobody knows my baby like I do. I’d like to get her oil changed, take a couple more days to clean her up right. She shouldn’t be left in the barn to rot like that. She needs to be driven.”
“We’ll have to see what I can work out,” Ford said with a small smile. He drank deeply from his cup and Dean couldn’t help but notice the dark stain on his lips, the blood that colored his tongue.
“How do you get it?” he asked as he indicated the cup.
Ford set the cup on the table, his fingers twirling the stem of the dark colored wine glass. “The same way doctors take blood. It doesn’t store long that way, but we make do. I don’t keep many vampires on the grounds, and we have more than enough humans who are willing to donate to earn extra favors.”
“They give blood for favors?”
“You know Jake from the motor crew?” Dean nodded as he continued to eat. He’d never asked about the blood before but in the three months he’d been there he’d never seen anyone with an opened vein.
“He’s marrying Maggie who runs the paperwork for me in the construction crew. He asked if he could donate blood to get free time for a honeymoon. They both did.”
“And you let them,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Ford wasn’t the monster most slave owners were.
“I let him donate blood. It seemed wrong to make them both do it, especially when we don’t need that much on a regular basis. They’ll be at the Winchester House next week. I figure I can’t let them off the property or someone will think they’ve run away, but they can have the house for a week as a reward for their service.”
Dean shook his head. “Why do it? Why give them anything extra when they’re just slaves?”
“No one deserves to be unhappy,” Ford said as he looked into his cup. “No one deserves to live these lives.”
“Then why own slaves at all if you believe that?”
“I’m only a man,” he paused, scoffing at himself as he took the last drink from his glass. He stood and walked away, looking out the window across the grounds. “I’m not even that. I’m something you hunt,” he said softly over his shoulder at Dean, “and as much as I hate what I’ve become, I can never be anything but what I am.”
Dean came up behind him. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for the creature’s plight but he did. Ford always managed to screw up his insides, to make him think and feel and do things he wouldn’t were it anyone else. He tugged at something Dean couldn’t remember, something he wished to hell he’d forget.
“Enough of that,” Ford said softly. “It’s time for bed. You might have worked late but some of us were up early.”
Dean nodded, wondering if Ford had ever considered giving them their freedom. He let himself be led to the bed, and sat on the edge. Ford watched him for a second but then he was unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. Dean shook his head, pulling his own shirt off. When he was stripped naked he climbed into the bed.
When he closed his eyes, his imagination took him back to the Impala. He could still feel it under his hands. He remembered sleeping in the back seat with his brother snuggling against his side. He could remember lying across the hood, sitting in the sun with Sammy resting his head on his thigh.
He felt a body pressed against his back and he took a deep breath, tired from the day’s work, from the emotional toll working on the Impala caused him. He was too tired to do anything more than stretch his limbs as a kiss was pressed to the base of his neck.
He closed his eyes and felt the curve of Ford’s body against him, felt the hard press of his cock rubbing over his skin, pressing into the back of his balls as he got the friction he needed.
“Dean,” the voice was so much lower than usual, the ever rough sound of it hitting Dean hard in the gut. Ford’s hips thrust hard against him, quicker and Dean didn’t notice Ford’s hand moving from his hip until his fingers were brushing against his cock. He moaned into it, his hips reacting on instinct, thrusting as those long strong fingers wrapped around him.
“Oh god, Dean.”
He knew he should stop. The voice, the need in it brought him back to who he was but he was tired and he needed so damn much to just get the hell off. He let his head fall back, resting against the vampire’s shoulder as he let his body fall into the rhythm of the hand wrapped around him.
A nip at his shoulder made him moan and he wondered how long it would be before he’d try that, before he’d ask for a vein. He wasn’t sure he’d say no right now, if it meant he could go back to the Impala the next day, his own version of a reward for services rendered.
The thought jerking him away from the lazy acceptance he’d been offering and he tried to jerk up, but the arm over his hip was too strong, the grip on his cock never faltering as he tried to late to stop himself. “No!” His body went tight as his orgasm ripped through him though, Ford milking him through the last breathless shudders.
Dean lay there, unable to think beyond his body’s betrayal. It had all been a ploy, he knew it, he’d always understood that Ford was manipulating him little by little but he’d never once let himself give in to anything he asked just so he could receive those favors. He never once meant to give in, only tonight he had. A few moments of weakness and he’d let the vampire touch him, gave him the one thing he’d asked for every night since Dean had come into his possession.
“Dean... ”
Dean pulled away from Ford, bringing his hands up over his head. “Lock me up,” he demanded.
Ford’s hand cupped his cheek and though Dean tried to pull away from the touch the vampire’s strength was too much. “Don’t do this.”
Dean pulled his face away and Ford let him. He knew it was the vampire’s choice and damn how that stung but he couldn’t look at him now, not after this. He turned his body away but kept his arms raised over his head, ready for the shackles. “Lock my damn arms up.”
“Dean,” he said softly, his hand pulling Dean back towards him. He fit perfectly in the curve of his master’s body and his hand ran down Dean’s side until it was resting gently on Dean’s hip. “My love, I don’t need to keep you locked up anymore,” he whispered sadly. “You’re mine now.”
The darkness of the room closed around him as he felt Ford’s damning words echo in his head. He didn’t move his arms. He held them tight over his head waiting for the shackles, even as he felt Ford’s tears against his skin. He didn’t know vampires could cry. He didn’t know he could anymore either, but when he felt Ford licking them away, his lips brushing Dean’s in solemn damnation, he could taste the salt from their combined tears and he knew he was broken.
Damn them all, they were both broken.