The Plague Pt 4a FRAO Dean/Sam, John/Bobby
The Plague Pt 4
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) ***Extra Warning: Attempted rape this part. ***, some hurt/comfort
Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional “breeders” must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.
The new place turned out to be a western themed bar with loud country music and line dancing. Dean winced at the tinny music and bad vocals but at least the place had a great bar. It ran the full length of the far wall, with glass shelves, mirrored bar-back and long row of cane-backed barstools.
Bobby motioned them to a booth and slid into one side, John slid in beside him. Bobby laid his arm on the back of the bench above John’s shoulders. Sam smiled at the possessiveness in the gesture but it seemed as if neither of the older men even noticed it was happening.
The mood in the bar was still a little subdued, it had been less than two months since the devastating plague and many people were still a shell-shocked, just beginning to search for possibilities in their lives. There seemed to be a majority of older couples, mostly married and middle-aged but a few younger people. There were a lot of single men studying the crowds and a few male couples. Although these still seemed to be in the minority. John shivered as the air conditioning kicked on full-force. He slid out of the seat.
“I’m going to get my jacket out of the truck. I’ll be right back.”
It was a simple thing, something that John would have done many times in the past and not one of the other three men at the table really noticed. Dean was too absorbed in the menu and arguing with Sam about the merits of ‘hot’ wings over ‘honey-barbeque’ to even react when his father left. But by the time the waitress had come back for drink orders the third time and John hadn‘t come back to the table the others took notice.
John pushed past the throng of people crowding the doorway waiting for tables and trudged across the parking lot toward his truck. Bobby had been driving and mindful of Dean’s warnings about the paintjob had parked in an end spot just beside an alley. John hauled the driver’s side door open and felt behind the seat for his fallen jacket. He heard the sounds behind him before he felt the first hand twist into the back of his t-shirt. His jacket fell on the ground and he uttered an abbreviated shout when a hand clamped itself over his mouth. Throwing an elbow into the ribs of the guy behind him John jerked back. But a second set of hands caught his arm, pinning him between the two men. A third figure loomed up in front of him and John’s head rocked back against his captor’s arm as a punch caught his cheek. The hand tightened on his mouth. He gagged as the sweaty flesh worked its way into his mouth. He made an attempt to bite at the hand and got a second punch to the side of his head. He sagged, half-conscious.
The three men hustled John across the short distance from the truck to the alley and he caught a look at one of them in the street-light on the corner. He was probably no more than eighteen with shaggy blonde hair and pale stubble on his chin. Presumably the other two were not much older; John struggled but couldn’t budge the hands gripping him.
His back banged against the chest of the boy holding him from behind. John managed to kick behind him catching the boy in the shin. With a yelp the hand slipped off his mouth but the boy punched him once in the back and John grunted in pain. He tried to take in enough breath to yell but the hand found its way over his mouth again.
He was slammed against the wall, his head thudding against the brick, feeling the world swim out of focus. The boy in front of him ripped his t-shirt from neck to hem pushing it back away from his body. A sweat-slicked palm raked over his breast and John flinched. He managed to jerk his arm free from one of the boys but the other two closed in.
Before he could turn his head a mouth was on his jaw, the kiss poorly aimed and he felt teeth sinking into his skin. Cringing, John stilled not wanting to inflict more damage by pulling away. His attacker moved and he heard snickering as the blonde boy’s mouth fastened itself to his bare breast.
“Get him down,” the voice behind him hissed, “Come on! Hurry up before they realize he’s gone.”
John groaned as the boys wrestled him to the ground. One boy pinned each of his arms, but his legs were free and he kicked out catching the blonde squarely in the belly. The boy doubled over then kicked John in the side. One of the boys kneeling on his arms lifted his head and smacked it against the asphalt. The alley went to soft focus again and this time it took longer for the fog to clear.
When the haze lifted John realized that the third boy’s hands were on his belt and he jerked again trying to pull free. There was a sound at the mouth of the alley and movement. Then the weight was off him; John rolled over onto his hands and knees.
Dean had one of the boys in a head-lock and Sam had the other by the scruff of the neck.
Bobby had hauled the blonde off John and slammed his fist into the boy’s face. His nose erupted in a geyser of blood but the older man hit him again. The boy sagged against the wall; Bobby hauled him up hitting him twice in quick succession. Dean yelled at him.
“Bobby, for God’s sake stop it! You’re going to kill him.”
“You saw what he was doing.”
John staggered to his feet.
“Bobby don’t. Let the police handle it.”
In the stark overhead lights of the emergency room the bruises on John’s face were truly spectacular. His nose was caked with dried blood and his lip slightly swollen. The bite mark on his cheek was the worst of the visible injuries. He sat on the exam table shivering in the thin cotton hospital gown waiting for the doctor to come back. All in all he had suffered much worse physical injuries in the past.
A grim faced deputy sheriff and a woman from the rape crisis center had already been in to speak to John, and the forensics team had done a rape exam. All of which he thought was completely useless and unnecessary. Everyone around him was making such a big deal out of it that it was beginning to piss John off. He felt fine.
The doctor, a young man probably Dean’s age, came in carrying an envelope of skull x-rays. He spoke so slowly and calmly to John that the older man felt like slapping him.
“Well, John…”
“Mr. Winchester,” John said snottily, and the young doctor flinched.
He smiled again this time looking less self-assured and John felt like a jerk. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that John was tired of being treated like he was made of spun glass.
“Mr. Winchester, you don’t have a skull fracture or a concussion so that’s good news. Most of the contusions are superficial. I would like you to reconsider making an appointment with the rape intervention counselor, though. You may suffer some mental trauma from this attack.”
“I’ve suffered a lot more trauma than this,” John sighed. “They tried to rape me, but they didn’t. It’s my own fault, my son has been bitching at me for weeks now about not putting myself in that situation and I did. I’ll be okay.”
The doctor didn’t look convinced, but let it pass.
“I’m going to give you a prescription for Valium. If you feel over anxious about this take it as prescribed, just for a few days. If you find that you need it more than that I’m going to ask that you go to counseling before writing any further prescriptions.”
“I don’t need it,” John said, but the doctor shoved the slip of paper into his hand, along with the pink business card that the counselor had left. John took them and slid off the table.
Bobby draped John’s jacket over the younger man’s shoulders to cover the blue surgical scrubs shirt that the hospital had given John to replace the t-shirt and jeans that the forensics team had taken for evidence. John tugged the jacket on following the others outside.
The trip back to the house was quiet, John still riding the painkillers the doctor had given him in the ER. Bobby got him out of the truck and into bed in short order. John lay stretched out on his back listening to the subdued sounds from his boys and the older man as they sat talking in hushed tones in the living room.
After a few minutes Bobby appeared at the bedroom door and pulled it closed behind him.
“John, you still awake?”
“Yeah, I don’t want you and the boys doing anything about this if they let those kids out of jail. This is not our kind of hunt.”
“Evil is evil, John.”
“No, I mean it. I won’t have you or one of the boys in jail over this thing. It was my fault, Dean’s been telling me…hell, you told me I needed to be careful. I brought this on myself.”
Bobby settled down, hesitantly he reached out for the other man, but drew back. John winched.
“Don’t you start doing it, too. I’m not going to break, Bobby. You can touch me; I want you to touch me.”
Sliding across the bed Bobby gathered John into his arms. As soon as Bobby slid his hand beneath John’s shoulder John jerked half-up right in the bed, Bobby’s gentle stroking transformed into a fist knotted into the back of his shirt. John swallowed pressing tightly against the older man. Suddenly John’s stomach clenched and he took a deep breath. Bobby rolled over into a sitting position leaning down over John and the younger man cringed back. John felt his head spin as he seemed to be lying on cold asphalt again. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that he was okay.
“Bobby,” he whispered. The older man tugged John into his arms.
“Yeah, John?”
“I’m glad you got there. I don’t think I could have taken it…I don’t want anyone to ever touch me but you.”
John felt something warm and wet on his face, and realized that he was crying.
“Oh shit…,” he mumbled.
Bobby slid his fingers under John’s chin, and kissed him.
“Don’t cry baby, I’ve got you.”
They lay side by side pressed together. Gradually Bobby felt John relax against him into sleep. With a sigh Bobby lay back closing his eyes. He felt raw around the edges and wondered just when John Winchester had become the center of his world.
Sam settled on the sofa leaning against Dean’s shoulder. The news was on the TV but Dean flicked the channel to Leno. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Dean finally turned off the TV.
“Sammy, what happened to Dad could happen to you too. So please, for my sake don’t wander off alone like that, not right now.”
“It shouldn’t be this way, Dean. What is it about disasters like this that brings out all the worst in people?”
“Its human nature I guess, Sam.”
“We’ve spent our entire lives fighting the worst kind of evil and now we humans are becoming the thing we hate.”
“Not all of us. There are still some good ones left. We just have to pick up the slack for the ones that go bad, that’s all.”
John woke up stiff and sore and in a hell of a bad mood. His insides ached, although he supposed that might not necessarily be from the attack. Then he realized exactly what the cramping meant and groaned. He growled a curse under his breath and shoved Bobby’s hand off his back. Bobby rolled over and glared at the other man, but John was already disappearing into the bathroom. Bobby heard the shower come on, and he ruefully glanced down at his hard cock.
“Sorry boy, looks like a no go for this morning.”
John thumped a glass of juice beside his plate glaring at the eggs and bacon. He flicked a glance at the window and the bright sunlight pouring inside.
“Goddammit, it’s hot in here,” he snapped.
Bobby just stood up and turned down the temperature on the thermostat, the air conditioning kicking in.
Sam stomped into the room shaking water out of his hair. John flinched when the droplets splattered against his skin.
“Do you have to shake like a dog? I know there are towels in the bathroom you could try using them.”
“Maybe you could try minding your own damned business, Dad,” Sam snapped jerking a cabinet open.
The dishes rattled inside and Bobby cringed. Dean slid his chair back from the table with a frown. Before he could say anything John jumped to his feet.
“Don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me, young man.”
Sam backed up against the cabinet and snarled.
“Just leave me the hell alone.”
Dean rose but Bobby grabbed him by the arm before he could step between Sam and their father. Shaking his head the older man just cleared his place at the table and stepped back, letting Sam slide into a chair. Before Sam could say anything to John the older man turned on Bobby.
“Why is it so fucking cold in here? Are you trying to freeze us to death?”
Bobby swallowed and went to the thermostat again. Sam just dropped his fork. But John’s look stalled any comment he was going to make. Grateful for the distraction Bobby took the opportunity to make break for the door dragging Dean behind him.
“You’re going to leave them in there alone together?”
Bobby shrugged.
“Better them than us. They’ll be okay. Just give it a couple of days.”
Dean looked perplexed.
“Huh?”
“It’s that time of the month, Dean. Just stay out of their way until the dust settles.”
“Hey, look we don’t have to be afraid. Most men go through this all the time with their wives …girlfriends ...significant others and they don’t have to run for cover.”
“Most men don’t have significant others who can kill them with their bare hands, we do.”
“So what do we do about the bitch queen and the little princess in there?” Dean asked sighing.
Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.
“Just walk softly and keep our mouths shut."
With a sigh Bobby leaned around the corner of the porch to get a quick glimpse of the interior of the kitchen and smiled. Quickly he ducked into the house grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter by the stove. He tapped Dean on the shoulder in passing.
"Come on we're going into town. I'm going to grease the skids a little, so we can make it through the next four days unscathed."
"How?" Dean asked.
Bobby shoved him toward his pick-up. Dean went around to the passenger door and climbed in.
"There's a candy shop on Main Street that has hand-made chocolates."
"You're going to buy Dad candy? Are you out of your mind? Besides Dad never eats candy, especially chocolate."
"No, John is too damn stingy to buy chocolate, at least since you boys stopped eating it. But if I get it he'll eat it."
"I think I know my old man pretty well," Dean snorted.
"Live and learn, kid."