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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: every stone a story, Part Six (link to Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6062
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...but these two parts ( 5 & 6) are finally the end.
Dean helped his father to the breakfast table and poured him a cup of coffee. "You're moving better this morning."
John grunted in acknowledgment. Jim was still asleep on the couch, Sam gone to school. Dean had only slept a few hours, sure someone would come through his window at any minute.
"So, I was thinking…" Dean said, taking his own cup of coffee to the other side of the table. "You're doing better and I've had enough of this snow, we should pull up and head south. Texas? Lots of ghosts and crap in Texas."
"You know we have to let Sam finish the semester." John said, his voice gruff. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And I sure as hell ain't up to hunting."
"Well, not right now, no." Dean said, his heart hammering in his chest. "But Christmas. We head south. Warmer weather will be good for you." He was about to say something more, but there was a knock at the door. It was barely eight am.
Dean got up and went to answer it. The hip didn't hinder him as much and the pain was easing up, though the bruising was still spectacular. He opened the door to find to police officers standing on the porch. "Morning, officers. Can I help you?"
"We're looking for Dean Winchester?"
"I'm Dean."
"Sir, may we come in? We have a few questions."
"I…ah…" Dean glanced at Pastor Jim, who was sitting up and frowning at him. "Of course, come in." He stepped aside, holding the door. The two men entered the room, their eyes dancing around the sparse furnishings and coming back to Dean. "What is this about?"
One of them held up a picture. "Do you know this young man?"
Dean's heart sped up. It was the face of the boy at Matty's house. The one in the pictures that had been on his bed. He swallowed. "No, I don't think I do."
"He was assaulted recently. His brother gave your name as someone who might have seen who did it. Said you came to the house the same day?"
"His brother?" Dean's mouth was dry, his hands itching. "Who…I'm sorry, who is his brother?"
"Matthew Layden," the first officer responded.
Matty. Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know Matty. Didn't know he had a brother."
"May we ask what you were doing at Mr. Layden's house?"
Dean could feel Jim looking at him, could sense his father somewhere behind him. He had to keep it together. He took a deep breath. "I went to see Matty, see how he was doing."
"And how do you know Mr. Layden?"
"I…ah…we worked together." Dean said, crossing his arms. "Is his brother okay? I mean…you said he was assaulted. Was it the same guys who hurt Matty?"
"We aren't sure yet, Mr. Winchester. Did you see anything or anyone near the house that you would consider suspicious?"
"No, I can't say that I did. I stopped in, saw Matty and I had to get to work."
The officers were nodding and jotting down notes. "Here's my number, in case you think of anything. Thank you for your time."
Dean shook their hands and they left. His hands shook as he looked at the business card.
"Dean?"
He turned, looking from the business card to his father.
"What was that about?"
Dean licked his lips. "A friend…um…I…and…I need to shower."
Dean decided that his best course of action was to get out of the house without his father knowing. He dressed and slipped out the same window Charlie's goons had used to get in and leave the pictures. It meant walking to work, but it beat the alternative.
He went to the front door of the club. It was early, barely dusk. Sean stopped him. "He's pissed."
"I figured." Dean said. "I can explain."
"Not sure he wants explaining. Pretty sure he wants to kick your ass."
"I'm here, okay." Dean shook his head. "I'll talk to him." He opened the door and headed for Charlie's office.
"Well, well, look who decided to join us. I see you got my message."
Dean turned at the door of the office to find Charlie behind him. He held up both hands. "I'm sorry about last night. I couldn't get away."
"Excuses won't get you very far, Mustang."
"Charlie, look…my family…they needed me last night. Besides, I can't dance." He gestured at his hip.
Charlie closed the distance between them, shoving Dean into the door of the office. "If I was paying you to dance, I'd care about that. I lost a lot of money not having your ass in this place last night. I've got you booked out for two weeks, you fucking ungrateful whore."
His hand fisted in Dean's hair, pulling his head back. "You're going to make it up to me."
"Yeah, Charlie. Anything." Dean said, knowing he was in for a really bad night.
"You're going to go into the back room and you're going to do every guy I send in there. And I'm not paying you for any of them. None. And when they're done with you, you're going to clean yourself up and you're going to a special gig up on the hill. Understand me?"
Dean nodded as much as he could with the way Charlie was holding his head. "Go on then. Get naked." He shoved Dean toward the back.
Dean went, trying to control his breathing. He could hear Charlie on the phone. This was not going to be easy. He let himself into the room, his eyes tracking to the cameras he knew were mounted in the corners. He pulled his jacket and shirts off, then toed his shoes off.
He moved to the corner with the bench and shelf, unbuttoning his jeans. He exhaled and dropped his jeans, kicking them off and reaching for the lube. He knew once things got started, he wasn't guaranteed of anything, so he'd best make use of the time to make it as easy as he could.
He slicked up two of his fingers and reached behind himself. He hated this part, well, he hated all of it. But this made him feel like he was dirty, like he was asking for what was about to happen…wanted it.
He could feel himself flushing red, and closed his eyes before shoving the two fingers in. He smeared the lube around and pressed his fingers to the sides of his ass, opening himself up. He'd learned that proper prep meant less pain after.
"Now, that's a pretty sight."
Dean stopped, his head hanging. Spike. He knew the voice.
"A pretty whore making himself all ready for me. Been waiting on this chance, Mustang. Gonna fuck you now."
Great. Charlie was starting with the other dancers. Dean licked his lips and inhaled. "Gonna talk about it or do it?" he asked, knowing it would piss Spike off.
He cringed when Spike grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and knocked Dean's hand away from his ass with the other. "How's this for doing it?" Spike shoved his cock into Dean hard.
Dean grunted and pushed back. "You can do better than that." He braced himself on the shelf and Spike rose to the challenge, pulling out and shoving back in. He fucked Dean fast and hard, coming before he likely meant to because of it. He cursed at Dean and let go of him before stalking away.
Two more of the other dancers came and went before the voice behind him was one he didn't know. "Turn around."
Dean did as he was told, keeping his eyes down and away. "Nice. I'll be making use of those beautiful lips, so take a knee."
Dean licked his lips self consciously and took a few steps closer before he went to his knees. The man presented himself and waited, so Dean lifted his hands to unzip him and coax his cock out. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of cock, or come for that matter.
He stroked it a few times with his hand to get it to harden, then licked at the tip. Most of the time the men who paid for him just wanted a hole to fuck, they didn't care about technique or skill. He closed his eyes and took the head between his lips.
The man's hand settled on his head, but didn't push or pull. He didn't move, just waited for Dean to find a pace, his lips closed tight over the man's cock as he bobbed up and down.
There was a single grunt in warning, then the man stepped back, spilling come down Dean's chest.
The man left the room then and Dean got up off his knees, cleaning his chest of come and pacing the room a little while he waited. He didn't have to wait long. The man who came in next seemed vaguely familiar, probably someone Dean had seen at the club.
He grinned, his eyes sweeping over Dean, then to a chair on the side of the room. He sat, pulling his cock out and stroking it. "Come on then."
Dean nodded tightly. His face was red hot as he positioned himself, his legs on either side of the man's knees. He used his hands on the chair arms for leverage and lowered himself, while the man held his cock in place for him. He sank down the cock slowly, gasping when he'd gotten it fully inside him.
He pulled himself up again and let himself sink.
"That's a good boy, go on and fuck yourself. Make it good."
The man's hand petted down Dean's back. Dean did his best to ignore everything but what he was supposed to be doing. He was starting to shake with the effort of controlling the movements when the man's hands grabbed Dean's sides and forced him forward, onto his knees on the floor.
Two quick thrusts and the man was coming all over Dean's ass.
Dean got to his feet and limped over to the corner, his hip suddenly hurting like it had the night the cowboy had stomped on him. He pulled a towel off the shelf and cleaned up again, turning when the door opened.
It was Sean this time. "Come on, boss says to get cleaned up."
Dean frowned. He'd expected more. "So fast?"
"Don't question and don't give him lip, his in a shit mood." Sean grabbed his shoulder when he got close enough and shoved him into the hall, herding him back toward the shower. When he was clean and dried off, Sean handed him a trench coat. "Put this on."
"What about—"
"Shut it." Sean growled. "Just fucking do what you're told for a change, okay?"
"Fine." Dean put the coat on, tying the belt around his waist. He felt ridiculously naked as Sean herded him through the dressing room and out into the alley and the waiting van. Charlie was waiting and he shoved a hood over Dean's head, shoving Dean to a seat.
"You are not to speak from now until you are released when this is over. You are to be pliant and obedient. You will be touched and fucked and talked about as though you are little more than a piece of art. You may be hit, spanked, caned, whipped or bitten as the hosts see fit."
The van pulled into traffic. Dean tried to follow the turns and speeds to figure out where they were going, but Charlie was still talking. "Come morning, if you have behaved and the hosts are pleased, I will consider forgiving you."
"Wait, morning?" Dean said without thinking.
Something hard came down over his thighs.
"Not a fucking word."
Dean nodded frantically.
"Morning. Deal with it."
They were quiet then for the duration of the drive. When the van stopped, Charlie led Dean out and removed the hood. "Eyes down."
He followed Charlie up to a door. The man who opened the door was in a tux and a mask. Charlie untied the belt of the coat and pulled the coat off Dean all together, leaving him standing on the step naked.
"Be good."
Charlie walked away, taking the jacket. The man at the door stood aside and Dean made himself walk inside. The place was filled with people in tuxes and masks. All but some woman in what looked like a sling being fucked by a man in a tux. She was naked like Dean.
He was walked into another room where there were more people in masks and tuxes. In the center of the room, his hands were put into tight leather cuffs and pulled up over his head. His eyes followed up to a complex system of pulleys. Cuffs were added to his thighs, high up nearly under his ass, and ankles and a belt fitted around his waist.
When they were done, he was hoisted up, his weight held by his arms, the belt and the cuffs on his thighs. He was spread open and with little ado, a tuxedo clad man stepped between his thighs, pulled out his cock and shoved it into Dean.
The suspension system swung with each thrust. All around them people were watching. It was disconcerting not seeing their eyes or faces. Like they almost didn't exist.
Except for how he was definitely getting fucked. His shoulders were already feeling the strain and his injured hip was yelling at the angle it was bent. When the man finished with him, Dean could feel come dripping from him, but not for long. A few minutes later there was a tongue licking him clean.
He was rearranged, his arms lowered, his head dropped back. Two men then, one fucking his ass, one his mouth. He did what he could to relax, to ignore them. He closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
It worked for a while. Until they moved him again, flipping him so he was face down, ass up. Hands rubbed over his ass, that tongue returned, cleaning the come from him, licking into his hole.
When it was gone they left him alone for a while, milling around. He caught snippets of conversation. Hands touched him, caressing over skin or pinching, slapping his ass in emphasis to something they said.
Someone caressed over the bruising on his leg, poked at it until Dean was fighting the urge to scream in pain. Fire burned through the hip joint, pain flared along the length of the bruise and a moment later he realized why.
Something hard had hit him. Something hard and long. It came down again, this time on his ass. A paddle. Or something. It hit him over and over until his skin was flushed with heat and his face was just as hot with embarrassment.
Someone stepped in to fuck him then. And someone dragged his head up to suck a cock. He stopped thinking. Stopped anticipating. He hung in his bonds and let them use him.
Somewhere through the night they used a cane on him, leaving long red, raised welts on his ass and thighs and across his back. Several of them broke skin and someone drew on him with the blood.
Morning seemed a long, long way off.
"Can I talk to you?" Sam asked from the doorway of his bedroom.
John nodded, putting aside the book he hadn't really been reading. He was too busy worrying about Dean, who had snuck off hours before. Jim was out looking for him, but they both knew that the chances of finding him were pretty slim.
Sam came in, circling the bed and scratching behind his ear. "Dean…" He sighed and shook his head. "He's in trouble."
John narrowed his eyes. "Do you know something, Sam?"
Sam looked at him, his face all scrunched up. "He comes home hurt a lot. Tries to tell me he's okay, but I know. I can see." He paced more. "He has nightmares. Talks about people hurting him in his sleep."
There was more to it, John could see it on his face. "Sam, if you know what your brother has gotten himself into…"
"I think…I mean…damn it." He turned to face John, his expression filled with pain. "It isn't his fault, okay? He did it for me. He told me….well, he didn't actually tell me…but it's me." He huffed and came to sit next to John on the bed. "He started out just…dancing."
He looked down at his hands and bit his lip. "I found…he rented these…videos…and I found this…" He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to John.
It was a business card for some strip club downtown. But Sam had implied there was more. "He needed to make money fast. That cold snap hit, and we were freezing and the gas company wanted a deposit and he didn't know what else to do." Sam looked up at him, like he expected John to be angry.
He wasn't angry though, only more worried. "What else, Sam?"
Sam got up to pace again, to the door and back. "He'll kill me if I tell you."
John pulled the covers back and pushed himself upright. It hurt, but at that moment the important thing was getting the information out of Sam.
"I'll deal with him, but you have to tell me."
"I…the man…" Sam gestured at the card. "I think he…forces Dean to…" He looked away, like he couldn't say the words while looking at John. "…sex. I think he makes Dean have sex…with…other men."
John stumbled back, sitting heavily on the bed. He'd imagined drugs or stolen merchandise, he'd considered other criminal activities, but prostitution had never crossed his mind.
Sam came toward him. "He sometimes cries when he thinks I won't hear him and he showers all the time, like he can't get clean and he won't tell me, but Dad, he's scared."
John's mind raced over what he knew and it fit. All of it fit. "It's okay Sam. Jim and I will take care of it."
"He…he said they threatened to hurt me." Sam said, sitting next to him on the bed. "He said they were going to…do things to me, if he didn't do what he was supposed to."
Cold fury dumped into his stomach, but John put a hand around his younger son and pulled him in tight. "I'm not going to let that happen Sam."
He looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. He could still get to that club. He would call Jim and have him meet him there. "Sam, I'm going to go get your brother. You lock yourself in here."
"Dad, you can't. Your back."
John stood, hiding the grimace from the pain. "I'll be fine." He walked slowly to his dresser and pulled out clothes. "You just stay here."
Music blared out the door of the club as they pulled up. A big bouncer sat at the door. John stepped out onto the sidewalk, biting the inside of his cheek to distract him from the pain spreading through his lower back.
Jim joined him and together they approached the bouncer. They paid their cover and moved inside, pausing near the door to get the lay of the land. John pointed toward the bar and Jim nodded. They moved slowly, watching some young man in little more than a speedo gyrate on stage to some pounding bass line.
The crowd was pretty varied. Young and old, well dressed and not.
They sat at the bar and ordered up a couple of beers, scanning the room. John spotted what looked like an office door and tapped Jim's shoulder, pointing. Jim nodded. They both drank from their beers and set them down, easing off their stools and headed for the office.
John knocked, then opened the door, startling the middle aged man behind the desk.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for my son." John said gruffly, moving into the office. He saw the man push the button for security and knew that limited his time.
"And who might that be?"
"The underage boy you've been letting dance for you." Jim said beside him. "Something I'm sure the police would have an interest in."
The man raised an eyebrow. "My dancers are contractors. It's not my job to check their backgrounds. This kid got a name?"
"Winchester." John said.
The man stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Ah, Mustang. He isn't here. Come on, I'll show you." He stepped around John and back into the club. The big bouncer and another big guy were instantly at his side.
John's back was starting to seize up, but he didn't let it show as they followed the men toward the back stage area and into a dressing room. "That there is his mirror. He was supposed to dance tonight, but never showed. As far as I'm concerned, that terminates his opportunities here."
Dancers moved out of their way and John got the message as they were led to a back door and out into an alley. "Now, if you know what's good for you, Mr. Winchester, you won't come back here again."
Jim pulled on his arm as they shifted around to keep from getting pinned against a wall. "Don't worry. You'll never see me again." John let Jim tug him out of the alley and back to Jim's truck. Dean wasn't there. But John was pretty certain this Charlie person knew where he was.
"What now?" Jim asked as they got into the truck.
"Now? We find Dean, and once we know he's safe, we bring this guy down."
Time fell away without meaning anything. He was licked and touched and fondled, used to hold drinks and repositioned more times than he could count. Upside down and backwards, folded in half and spread eagle, hit with paddles and canes and things he never actually saw.
He lost count of the sex.
Eventually he was lowered to the floor and released, though he wasn't sure he could move. He was covered in come and blood and sweat. He was covered with a blanket and scooped up, carried, dropped. The wind was cold. He assumed he was on the front step of the house, but didn't have the strength to move the blanket to find out.
He heard an engine and footsteps and four hands lifted him, carried him and put him down inside the van.
The van lurched forward and the blanket was pulled away. Sean's face loomed over his, hard set and angry. Dean didn't understand.
Sean punched him hard, across the face.
"Your daddy came to see the boss last night." Sean said.
The other person grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair, dragging him away from Sean. "Boss didn't like that." Dean couldn't focus on the man's face to figure out who it was. A fist slammed into his stomach, then Sean was spreading Dean's legs, unzipping his pants.
"Told us to let you know that your services are no longer required." He pounded into Dean while the other man punched Dean repeatedly. "Your deal is broken and it's time to pay the penalties." Sean shoved inside him and came.
He pulled away, grabbing Dean's ankle and using it to flip him over. Pain spiked in his knee, shot up into the injured hip and Dean screamed, scrambling at the carpeted floor of the van to try to find some traction.
A booted foot kicked him in the side, then stepped on his neck, holding him down as something large was shoved into him. "Boy this ass is so loose you could drive a truck into it."
The big thing, whatever it was, moved in and out of him before the van turned a corner and knocked them all sideways. "Almost there boys, finish up."
"Too bad, I'd love to spend some time with this one."
"He's an eager little whore, Joey, you'd have liked him." Sean said. "Aren't you, Mustang? Let me fuck you with your brother in the next room, didn't you? Boy, I'm gonna like getting me a piece of that one. That Sammy? He's a cutie."
Dean thrashed under them, but he was weak and still had something huge sticking out of his ass. Sean's foot left his neck, but came down heel first on his shoulder. He was kicked over, looking up just in time to see a baseball bat swing at his leg. He screamed before it even connected, the bone cracking audibly.
Sean stomped on the front of the same shoulder and Dean's eyes rolled back, his body seizing up tight. He was going to pass out.
He was vaguely aware of the van stopping, of being rolled up in the blanket and thrown out of the van, rolling, screaming, then black.
The sun wasn't even up, but John hadn't been to bed. He'd exhausted every possible lead he could pull, looked every place he could think of. He was barely moving when he heard the sound of an engine, a door and men laughing. Then it was a thud and screaming and John had the door open and was off the porch before he realized how much the movement hurt him.
In the vague pre-dawn light, he could see a body, wrapped in a dark blanket on the snow covered yard. "Jim!" John yelled, moving toward it, his heart in his throat.
The blanket moved as he got closer and John grabbed at Jim's arm as he got close enough, using his friend to help him get down to his knees. He peeled back the blanket. "Oh, god."
"I'll call an ambulance." Jim said, disappearing almost immediately.
"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" John whispered, moving more of the blanket to get a better look. His face was bloody and swollen, his shoulder at an odd angle. He was naked, John realized as he got more of the blanket untangled from his limbs.
Naked, with a baseball bat shoved inside his ass.
John's hand hovered over the bat, uncertain whether or not to pull it out…then deciding that he didn't want anyone to see him that way. Dean groaned as he touched the bat, his eyes opening, his hand grabbing at John.
"Easy, easy." John whispered.
"No." Dean whined, rolling toward John.
"I’m going to take it out Dean. Just hold still."
He pulled and Dean yelled. John dropped the bat, reaching to try to sooth Dean, but not sure where to touch him that wouldn't hurt. The sun was just starting to paint the sky with red light, letting him see more of his son's injuries.
"Ambulance is on their way." Jim said, re-joining him with his first aid kit in hand. "I told Sam to stay inside."
"No! Sam! Dad, Sam." Dean's fingers scrambled to get a hold of John's hand. "Don't leave Sam alone. They can get into the house. They'll come for him."
John looked over his shoulder. Sam stood in the doorway. "Sam, come where we can see you."
He didn't look to see that Sam obeyed, he knew the boy would. "Okay, Dean. Just hold on. Help is coming."
Jim had his first aid kit opened, but clearly didn't know where to begin. It was becoming evident, as the light increased, Dean had been beaten more than once. There were welts across his back and thighs and ass, the skin raised and red and broken open in places. His leg was broken in at least one place, the knee turned out strangely.
It took forever to hear the sirens, for the EMTs to get out of the ambulance, but finally they were there asking him to move back. Dean cried out as they moved him, the sound cutting through John, all the more when Sam rushed at him, hiding his face in John's chest.
Finally, they had Dean strapped to a back board, his neck braced, and they lifted him into the ambulance. "I'll ride with him, you bring Sam." John said, guiding Sam to Jim.
He needed help to get up beside Dean, and his back was going to be screaming at him for hours, but John wasn't letting Dean out of his sight. Dean flitted in and out of consciousness as they rode to the hospital.
He followed them up to the big double doors where a nurse caught him and held him back. "Let us do our jobs."
He nodded and went back to the chairs in the waiting area. Sam rushed at him before he could sit down. "Where is he? Where's Dean?"
"Calm down. He's with the doctor's. All we can do is wait."
"Is he going to be okay?" Sam was wide eyed and scared.
"I hope so Sam." John replied. "I hope so."
The man responsible for this didn't have long to breathe if John Winchester had anything to say about it. He may not be supernatural, but he was as evil as they came, and John Winchester hunted evil. Hunted it, killed it, salted and burned it.
Everything hurt. He knew that before he even opened his eyes. The sounds near his head were strange, soft beeping that took him a few minutes to place. Hospital. He opened his eyes, or the one that would open.
He was on his left side, his back bare. His right leg was encased in plaster, from the hip down to his ankle. Movement beside him caught his eye. His father smiled softly at him, glancing at Sam asleep in his lap.
"Hey." John said softly. His hand brushed over Dean's head. "You're going to be okay."
Dean wasn't sure if his father was placating him or serious. He didn't feel like he was going to be okay. He felt like he'd been worked over by a pack of rhinos.
He flushed as he remember what he'd been worked over by. He closed his eyes, remembering the pain, Sean…who Dean had started to believe actually liked him. They'd fucked him too…and then…he squeezed his eyes closed tighter. His father had found him like that. With that…thing…shoved up his ass, with his skin covered in come.
"It's okay, Dean." His father's voice was gentle, soft even. "It's okay. It's over now."
Dean shivered. "No. Charlie…" He opened his eyes. His father's smile was frightening.
"Don't worry about him. I've got plans for him."
Dean didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure they were plans that even Charlie wouldn't see coming.
Sam hardly left Dean's side, even now that they were moved and set up someplace far enough away that Charlie and his men would never find them. Dean wasn't back on his feet yet, but at least John didn't hear him crying at night anymore.
Spring was coming and Dean was at least out of the heavy cast and into a leg brace that had him a little more mobile.
John finished packing his bag and looked up at Dean who was leaning on the door of his bedroom.
"Is there a reason Pastor Jim just pulled in?"
John nodded. "I asked him to keep an eye on you boys. I've got something I need to do."
"You know, we don't need a babysitter." Dean said.
"No, but you can't hold a gun steady with that shoulder yet, and I'm not leaving you boys without protection. I won't be long."
"What is it this time?" Dean asked.
John wasn't about to tell him the truth. "Remember before my accident, I was hunting?" Dean nodded. John crossed to his dresser and picked up his favorite rosary. "It was a vampire, and it got away. I'm going back to finish it."
"You sure you're ready for that?" Dean asked, his voice clearly indicating he didn't think John was.
"Only one way to find out, Son. I won't be long."
In fact, there was a lot more to it. The vampire had gotten between him and the werewolf he had been hunting. He needed to kill the wolf before the lunar cycle ended and he wasn't prepared for vampire, so John had trapped the vampire in and abandoned mine, chained and locked behind sealed doors until John could get back there to kill it.
By now, provided it was still where he left it, it would be starving.
Truth was, John wasn't back to a hundred percent himself, but he was done waiting for justice. He'd let Jim talk him into running, into taking the boys away and not ripping the man to shreds with his own hands, but now that he was stronger, now that he knew…A month before he'd set the ball rolling, calling in an old favor with Bobby Singer.
He grabbed his bag and Dean shifted out of his way, following him slowly. Jim was already dropping his own bag on the coffee table. "Watch the speed traps around the state line."
John nodded. "You two behave."
"You be careful." Dean said.
Something in the tone made John wonder if the boy knew what he was really up to. "Be back before you know it."
He'd been stewing on it a long while. He'd gotten the whole story over time from Dean, how the man had given him hope and then manipulated him, used his love of his family to terrorize him.
And Dean wasn't alone. There were others.
But John wasn't going to let him terrorize any others.
His first stop was that abandoned mine, armed with holy water and a dagger laced with dead man's blood. The fight left them both bloody, but when it was done, the vampire was in the trunk of his car and he set off to find Charlie and his boys.
It was just past closing time when John pulled up. He watched the dancers leaving, watched the bouncer close and lock the front door. He pulled the heavy chain out of the back seat and went to those doors, looping the chain through the handles and locking them tight.
He opened the trunk. The vampire hissed at him, but John dragged him out and marched him up the alley toward the dressing room door.
"I figure you must be hungry. I'm going to give you a treat. Anyone inside this building is yours. Gorge yourself. My way of paying you back for the months of starvation."
"And then what?"
John smiled. "Get out if you can." He cut the rope binding the vampire's hands and shoved him in the door. "I aim to burn the place down by morning."
He shoved the door shut behind the vampire. The metal pole was right where Bobby had said it would be. John lifted it from behind the trash cans and wedged one end under the door knob. The other crammed against the wall on the opposite side of the alley, making the door impossible to open.
He headed back toward the car then, imagining he could hear screaming inside. "Told you you would never see me again, bastard." He reached into the front seat of the car, opening his duffle bag.
The remote was simple enough, the charges set in the building's basement. The fire would start slow, and burn hot. Very hot. By the time the sun rose, there wouldn't be anyone inside left to save.
It wasn't the ending he would have preferred. But Jim was right about that. It couldn't trace back to him, or his boys.
He got in the car and started it, holding the switch. He pulled out into the street, pressing the button. He let his eyes sweep the building once more, then he headed out, headed home, back to his boys.
Where he belonged.
Dean looked up when he came in, his eyes meeting John's and asking the question he wouldn't ask with Jim and Sam sitting there. John nodded.
Dean relaxed, smiled even.
Neither one of them was one hundred percent themselves again. They might never be. One icy road, one accident had changed them both. But they were together, and they were safe. As safe as any family could be. John aimed to make sure they stayed that way.
Title: every stone a story, Part Six (link to Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6062
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...but these two parts ( 5 & 6) are finally the end.Dean helped his father to the breakfast table and poured him a cup of coffee. "You're moving better this morning."
John grunted in acknowledgment. Jim was still asleep on the couch, Sam gone to school. Dean had only slept a few hours, sure someone would come through his window at any minute.
"So, I was thinking…" Dean said, taking his own cup of coffee to the other side of the table. "You're doing better and I've had enough of this snow, we should pull up and head south. Texas? Lots of ghosts and crap in Texas."
"You know we have to let Sam finish the semester." John said, his voice gruff. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And I sure as hell ain't up to hunting."
"Well, not right now, no." Dean said, his heart hammering in his chest. "But Christmas. We head south. Warmer weather will be good for you." He was about to say something more, but there was a knock at the door. It was barely eight am.
Dean got up and went to answer it. The hip didn't hinder him as much and the pain was easing up, though the bruising was still spectacular. He opened the door to find to police officers standing on the porch. "Morning, officers. Can I help you?"
"We're looking for Dean Winchester?"
"I'm Dean."
"Sir, may we come in? We have a few questions."
"I…ah…" Dean glanced at Pastor Jim, who was sitting up and frowning at him. "Of course, come in." He stepped aside, holding the door. The two men entered the room, their eyes dancing around the sparse furnishings and coming back to Dean. "What is this about?"
One of them held up a picture. "Do you know this young man?"
Dean's heart sped up. It was the face of the boy at Matty's house. The one in the pictures that had been on his bed. He swallowed. "No, I don't think I do."
"He was assaulted recently. His brother gave your name as someone who might have seen who did it. Said you came to the house the same day?"
"His brother?" Dean's mouth was dry, his hands itching. "Who…I'm sorry, who is his brother?"
"Matthew Layden," the first officer responded.
Matty. Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know Matty. Didn't know he had a brother."
"May we ask what you were doing at Mr. Layden's house?"
Dean could feel Jim looking at him, could sense his father somewhere behind him. He had to keep it together. He took a deep breath. "I went to see Matty, see how he was doing."
"And how do you know Mr. Layden?"
"I…ah…we worked together." Dean said, crossing his arms. "Is his brother okay? I mean…you said he was assaulted. Was it the same guys who hurt Matty?"
"We aren't sure yet, Mr. Winchester. Did you see anything or anyone near the house that you would consider suspicious?"
"No, I can't say that I did. I stopped in, saw Matty and I had to get to work."
The officers were nodding and jotting down notes. "Here's my number, in case you think of anything. Thank you for your time."
Dean shook their hands and they left. His hands shook as he looked at the business card.
"Dean?"
He turned, looking from the business card to his father.
"What was that about?"
Dean licked his lips. "A friend…um…I…and…I need to shower."
Dean decided that his best course of action was to get out of the house without his father knowing. He dressed and slipped out the same window Charlie's goons had used to get in and leave the pictures. It meant walking to work, but it beat the alternative.
He went to the front door of the club. It was early, barely dusk. Sean stopped him. "He's pissed."
"I figured." Dean said. "I can explain."
"Not sure he wants explaining. Pretty sure he wants to kick your ass."
"I'm here, okay." Dean shook his head. "I'll talk to him." He opened the door and headed for Charlie's office.
"Well, well, look who decided to join us. I see you got my message."
Dean turned at the door of the office to find Charlie behind him. He held up both hands. "I'm sorry about last night. I couldn't get away."
"Excuses won't get you very far, Mustang."
"Charlie, look…my family…they needed me last night. Besides, I can't dance." He gestured at his hip.
Charlie closed the distance between them, shoving Dean into the door of the office. "If I was paying you to dance, I'd care about that. I lost a lot of money not having your ass in this place last night. I've got you booked out for two weeks, you fucking ungrateful whore."
His hand fisted in Dean's hair, pulling his head back. "You're going to make it up to me."
"Yeah, Charlie. Anything." Dean said, knowing he was in for a really bad night.
"You're going to go into the back room and you're going to do every guy I send in there. And I'm not paying you for any of them. None. And when they're done with you, you're going to clean yourself up and you're going to a special gig up on the hill. Understand me?"
Dean nodded as much as he could with the way Charlie was holding his head. "Go on then. Get naked." He shoved Dean toward the back.
Dean went, trying to control his breathing. He could hear Charlie on the phone. This was not going to be easy. He let himself into the room, his eyes tracking to the cameras he knew were mounted in the corners. He pulled his jacket and shirts off, then toed his shoes off.
He moved to the corner with the bench and shelf, unbuttoning his jeans. He exhaled and dropped his jeans, kicking them off and reaching for the lube. He knew once things got started, he wasn't guaranteed of anything, so he'd best make use of the time to make it as easy as he could.
He slicked up two of his fingers and reached behind himself. He hated this part, well, he hated all of it. But this made him feel like he was dirty, like he was asking for what was about to happen…wanted it.
He could feel himself flushing red, and closed his eyes before shoving the two fingers in. He smeared the lube around and pressed his fingers to the sides of his ass, opening himself up. He'd learned that proper prep meant less pain after.
"Now, that's a pretty sight."
Dean stopped, his head hanging. Spike. He knew the voice.
"A pretty whore making himself all ready for me. Been waiting on this chance, Mustang. Gonna fuck you now."
Great. Charlie was starting with the other dancers. Dean licked his lips and inhaled. "Gonna talk about it or do it?" he asked, knowing it would piss Spike off.
He cringed when Spike grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and knocked Dean's hand away from his ass with the other. "How's this for doing it?" Spike shoved his cock into Dean hard.
Dean grunted and pushed back. "You can do better than that." He braced himself on the shelf and Spike rose to the challenge, pulling out and shoving back in. He fucked Dean fast and hard, coming before he likely meant to because of it. He cursed at Dean and let go of him before stalking away.
Two more of the other dancers came and went before the voice behind him was one he didn't know. "Turn around."
Dean did as he was told, keeping his eyes down and away. "Nice. I'll be making use of those beautiful lips, so take a knee."
Dean licked his lips self consciously and took a few steps closer before he went to his knees. The man presented himself and waited, so Dean lifted his hands to unzip him and coax his cock out. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of cock, or come for that matter.
He stroked it a few times with his hand to get it to harden, then licked at the tip. Most of the time the men who paid for him just wanted a hole to fuck, they didn't care about technique or skill. He closed his eyes and took the head between his lips.
The man's hand settled on his head, but didn't push or pull. He didn't move, just waited for Dean to find a pace, his lips closed tight over the man's cock as he bobbed up and down.
There was a single grunt in warning, then the man stepped back, spilling come down Dean's chest.
The man left the room then and Dean got up off his knees, cleaning his chest of come and pacing the room a little while he waited. He didn't have to wait long. The man who came in next seemed vaguely familiar, probably someone Dean had seen at the club.
He grinned, his eyes sweeping over Dean, then to a chair on the side of the room. He sat, pulling his cock out and stroking it. "Come on then."
Dean nodded tightly. His face was red hot as he positioned himself, his legs on either side of the man's knees. He used his hands on the chair arms for leverage and lowered himself, while the man held his cock in place for him. He sank down the cock slowly, gasping when he'd gotten it fully inside him.
He pulled himself up again and let himself sink.
"That's a good boy, go on and fuck yourself. Make it good."
The man's hand petted down Dean's back. Dean did his best to ignore everything but what he was supposed to be doing. He was starting to shake with the effort of controlling the movements when the man's hands grabbed Dean's sides and forced him forward, onto his knees on the floor.
Two quick thrusts and the man was coming all over Dean's ass.
Dean got to his feet and limped over to the corner, his hip suddenly hurting like it had the night the cowboy had stomped on him. He pulled a towel off the shelf and cleaned up again, turning when the door opened.
It was Sean this time. "Come on, boss says to get cleaned up."
Dean frowned. He'd expected more. "So fast?"
"Don't question and don't give him lip, his in a shit mood." Sean grabbed his shoulder when he got close enough and shoved him into the hall, herding him back toward the shower. When he was clean and dried off, Sean handed him a trench coat. "Put this on."
"What about—"
"Shut it." Sean growled. "Just fucking do what you're told for a change, okay?"
"Fine." Dean put the coat on, tying the belt around his waist. He felt ridiculously naked as Sean herded him through the dressing room and out into the alley and the waiting van. Charlie was waiting and he shoved a hood over Dean's head, shoving Dean to a seat.
"You are not to speak from now until you are released when this is over. You are to be pliant and obedient. You will be touched and fucked and talked about as though you are little more than a piece of art. You may be hit, spanked, caned, whipped or bitten as the hosts see fit."
The van pulled into traffic. Dean tried to follow the turns and speeds to figure out where they were going, but Charlie was still talking. "Come morning, if you have behaved and the hosts are pleased, I will consider forgiving you."
"Wait, morning?" Dean said without thinking.
Something hard came down over his thighs.
"Not a fucking word."
Dean nodded frantically.
"Morning. Deal with it."
They were quiet then for the duration of the drive. When the van stopped, Charlie led Dean out and removed the hood. "Eyes down."
He followed Charlie up to a door. The man who opened the door was in a tux and a mask. Charlie untied the belt of the coat and pulled the coat off Dean all together, leaving him standing on the step naked.
"Be good."
Charlie walked away, taking the jacket. The man at the door stood aside and Dean made himself walk inside. The place was filled with people in tuxes and masks. All but some woman in what looked like a sling being fucked by a man in a tux. She was naked like Dean.
He was walked into another room where there were more people in masks and tuxes. In the center of the room, his hands were put into tight leather cuffs and pulled up over his head. His eyes followed up to a complex system of pulleys. Cuffs were added to his thighs, high up nearly under his ass, and ankles and a belt fitted around his waist.
When they were done, he was hoisted up, his weight held by his arms, the belt and the cuffs on his thighs. He was spread open and with little ado, a tuxedo clad man stepped between his thighs, pulled out his cock and shoved it into Dean.
The suspension system swung with each thrust. All around them people were watching. It was disconcerting not seeing their eyes or faces. Like they almost didn't exist.
Except for how he was definitely getting fucked. His shoulders were already feeling the strain and his injured hip was yelling at the angle it was bent. When the man finished with him, Dean could feel come dripping from him, but not for long. A few minutes later there was a tongue licking him clean.
He was rearranged, his arms lowered, his head dropped back. Two men then, one fucking his ass, one his mouth. He did what he could to relax, to ignore them. He closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
It worked for a while. Until they moved him again, flipping him so he was face down, ass up. Hands rubbed over his ass, that tongue returned, cleaning the come from him, licking into his hole.
When it was gone they left him alone for a while, milling around. He caught snippets of conversation. Hands touched him, caressing over skin or pinching, slapping his ass in emphasis to something they said.
Someone caressed over the bruising on his leg, poked at it until Dean was fighting the urge to scream in pain. Fire burned through the hip joint, pain flared along the length of the bruise and a moment later he realized why.
Something hard had hit him. Something hard and long. It came down again, this time on his ass. A paddle. Or something. It hit him over and over until his skin was flushed with heat and his face was just as hot with embarrassment.
Someone stepped in to fuck him then. And someone dragged his head up to suck a cock. He stopped thinking. Stopped anticipating. He hung in his bonds and let them use him.
Somewhere through the night they used a cane on him, leaving long red, raised welts on his ass and thighs and across his back. Several of them broke skin and someone drew on him with the blood.
Morning seemed a long, long way off.
"Can I talk to you?" Sam asked from the doorway of his bedroom.
John nodded, putting aside the book he hadn't really been reading. He was too busy worrying about Dean, who had snuck off hours before. Jim was out looking for him, but they both knew that the chances of finding him were pretty slim.
Sam came in, circling the bed and scratching behind his ear. "Dean…" He sighed and shook his head. "He's in trouble."
John narrowed his eyes. "Do you know something, Sam?"
Sam looked at him, his face all scrunched up. "He comes home hurt a lot. Tries to tell me he's okay, but I know. I can see." He paced more. "He has nightmares. Talks about people hurting him in his sleep."
There was more to it, John could see it on his face. "Sam, if you know what your brother has gotten himself into…"
"I think…I mean…damn it." He turned to face John, his expression filled with pain. "It isn't his fault, okay? He did it for me. He told me….well, he didn't actually tell me…but it's me." He huffed and came to sit next to John on the bed. "He started out just…dancing."
He looked down at his hands and bit his lip. "I found…he rented these…videos…and I found this…" He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to John.
It was a business card for some strip club downtown. But Sam had implied there was more. "He needed to make money fast. That cold snap hit, and we were freezing and the gas company wanted a deposit and he didn't know what else to do." Sam looked up at him, like he expected John to be angry.
He wasn't angry though, only more worried. "What else, Sam?"
Sam got up to pace again, to the door and back. "He'll kill me if I tell you."
John pulled the covers back and pushed himself upright. It hurt, but at that moment the important thing was getting the information out of Sam.
"I'll deal with him, but you have to tell me."
"I…the man…" Sam gestured at the card. "I think he…forces Dean to…" He looked away, like he couldn't say the words while looking at John. "…sex. I think he makes Dean have sex…with…other men."
John stumbled back, sitting heavily on the bed. He'd imagined drugs or stolen merchandise, he'd considered other criminal activities, but prostitution had never crossed his mind.
Sam came toward him. "He sometimes cries when he thinks I won't hear him and he showers all the time, like he can't get clean and he won't tell me, but Dad, he's scared."
John's mind raced over what he knew and it fit. All of it fit. "It's okay Sam. Jim and I will take care of it."
"He…he said they threatened to hurt me." Sam said, sitting next to him on the bed. "He said they were going to…do things to me, if he didn't do what he was supposed to."
Cold fury dumped into his stomach, but John put a hand around his younger son and pulled him in tight. "I'm not going to let that happen Sam."
He looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. He could still get to that club. He would call Jim and have him meet him there. "Sam, I'm going to go get your brother. You lock yourself in here."
"Dad, you can't. Your back."
John stood, hiding the grimace from the pain. "I'll be fine." He walked slowly to his dresser and pulled out clothes. "You just stay here."
Music blared out the door of the club as they pulled up. A big bouncer sat at the door. John stepped out onto the sidewalk, biting the inside of his cheek to distract him from the pain spreading through his lower back.
Jim joined him and together they approached the bouncer. They paid their cover and moved inside, pausing near the door to get the lay of the land. John pointed toward the bar and Jim nodded. They moved slowly, watching some young man in little more than a speedo gyrate on stage to some pounding bass line.
The crowd was pretty varied. Young and old, well dressed and not.
They sat at the bar and ordered up a couple of beers, scanning the room. John spotted what looked like an office door and tapped Jim's shoulder, pointing. Jim nodded. They both drank from their beers and set them down, easing off their stools and headed for the office.
John knocked, then opened the door, startling the middle aged man behind the desk.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for my son." John said gruffly, moving into the office. He saw the man push the button for security and knew that limited his time.
"And who might that be?"
"The underage boy you've been letting dance for you." Jim said beside him. "Something I'm sure the police would have an interest in."
The man raised an eyebrow. "My dancers are contractors. It's not my job to check their backgrounds. This kid got a name?"
"Winchester." John said.
The man stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Ah, Mustang. He isn't here. Come on, I'll show you." He stepped around John and back into the club. The big bouncer and another big guy were instantly at his side.
John's back was starting to seize up, but he didn't let it show as they followed the men toward the back stage area and into a dressing room. "That there is his mirror. He was supposed to dance tonight, but never showed. As far as I'm concerned, that terminates his opportunities here."
Dancers moved out of their way and John got the message as they were led to a back door and out into an alley. "Now, if you know what's good for you, Mr. Winchester, you won't come back here again."
Jim pulled on his arm as they shifted around to keep from getting pinned against a wall. "Don't worry. You'll never see me again." John let Jim tug him out of the alley and back to Jim's truck. Dean wasn't there. But John was pretty certain this Charlie person knew where he was.
"What now?" Jim asked as they got into the truck.
"Now? We find Dean, and once we know he's safe, we bring this guy down."
Time fell away without meaning anything. He was licked and touched and fondled, used to hold drinks and repositioned more times than he could count. Upside down and backwards, folded in half and spread eagle, hit with paddles and canes and things he never actually saw.
He lost count of the sex.
Eventually he was lowered to the floor and released, though he wasn't sure he could move. He was covered in come and blood and sweat. He was covered with a blanket and scooped up, carried, dropped. The wind was cold. He assumed he was on the front step of the house, but didn't have the strength to move the blanket to find out.
He heard an engine and footsteps and four hands lifted him, carried him and put him down inside the van.
The van lurched forward and the blanket was pulled away. Sean's face loomed over his, hard set and angry. Dean didn't understand.
Sean punched him hard, across the face.
"Your daddy came to see the boss last night." Sean said.
The other person grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair, dragging him away from Sean. "Boss didn't like that." Dean couldn't focus on the man's face to figure out who it was. A fist slammed into his stomach, then Sean was spreading Dean's legs, unzipping his pants.
"Told us to let you know that your services are no longer required." He pounded into Dean while the other man punched Dean repeatedly. "Your deal is broken and it's time to pay the penalties." Sean shoved inside him and came.
He pulled away, grabbing Dean's ankle and using it to flip him over. Pain spiked in his knee, shot up into the injured hip and Dean screamed, scrambling at the carpeted floor of the van to try to find some traction.
A booted foot kicked him in the side, then stepped on his neck, holding him down as something large was shoved into him. "Boy this ass is so loose you could drive a truck into it."
The big thing, whatever it was, moved in and out of him before the van turned a corner and knocked them all sideways. "Almost there boys, finish up."
"Too bad, I'd love to spend some time with this one."
"He's an eager little whore, Joey, you'd have liked him." Sean said. "Aren't you, Mustang? Let me fuck you with your brother in the next room, didn't you? Boy, I'm gonna like getting me a piece of that one. That Sammy? He's a cutie."
Dean thrashed under them, but he was weak and still had something huge sticking out of his ass. Sean's foot left his neck, but came down heel first on his shoulder. He was kicked over, looking up just in time to see a baseball bat swing at his leg. He screamed before it even connected, the bone cracking audibly.
Sean stomped on the front of the same shoulder and Dean's eyes rolled back, his body seizing up tight. He was going to pass out.
He was vaguely aware of the van stopping, of being rolled up in the blanket and thrown out of the van, rolling, screaming, then black.
The sun wasn't even up, but John hadn't been to bed. He'd exhausted every possible lead he could pull, looked every place he could think of. He was barely moving when he heard the sound of an engine, a door and men laughing. Then it was a thud and screaming and John had the door open and was off the porch before he realized how much the movement hurt him.
In the vague pre-dawn light, he could see a body, wrapped in a dark blanket on the snow covered yard. "Jim!" John yelled, moving toward it, his heart in his throat.
The blanket moved as he got closer and John grabbed at Jim's arm as he got close enough, using his friend to help him get down to his knees. He peeled back the blanket. "Oh, god."
"I'll call an ambulance." Jim said, disappearing almost immediately.
"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" John whispered, moving more of the blanket to get a better look. His face was bloody and swollen, his shoulder at an odd angle. He was naked, John realized as he got more of the blanket untangled from his limbs.
Naked, with a baseball bat shoved inside his ass.
John's hand hovered over the bat, uncertain whether or not to pull it out…then deciding that he didn't want anyone to see him that way. Dean groaned as he touched the bat, his eyes opening, his hand grabbing at John.
"Easy, easy." John whispered.
"No." Dean whined, rolling toward John.
"I’m going to take it out Dean. Just hold still."
He pulled and Dean yelled. John dropped the bat, reaching to try to sooth Dean, but not sure where to touch him that wouldn't hurt. The sun was just starting to paint the sky with red light, letting him see more of his son's injuries.
"Ambulance is on their way." Jim said, re-joining him with his first aid kit in hand. "I told Sam to stay inside."
"No! Sam! Dad, Sam." Dean's fingers scrambled to get a hold of John's hand. "Don't leave Sam alone. They can get into the house. They'll come for him."
John looked over his shoulder. Sam stood in the doorway. "Sam, come where we can see you."
He didn't look to see that Sam obeyed, he knew the boy would. "Okay, Dean. Just hold on. Help is coming."
Jim had his first aid kit opened, but clearly didn't know where to begin. It was becoming evident, as the light increased, Dean had been beaten more than once. There were welts across his back and thighs and ass, the skin raised and red and broken open in places. His leg was broken in at least one place, the knee turned out strangely.
It took forever to hear the sirens, for the EMTs to get out of the ambulance, but finally they were there asking him to move back. Dean cried out as they moved him, the sound cutting through John, all the more when Sam rushed at him, hiding his face in John's chest.
Finally, they had Dean strapped to a back board, his neck braced, and they lifted him into the ambulance. "I'll ride with him, you bring Sam." John said, guiding Sam to Jim.
He needed help to get up beside Dean, and his back was going to be screaming at him for hours, but John wasn't letting Dean out of his sight. Dean flitted in and out of consciousness as they rode to the hospital.
He followed them up to the big double doors where a nurse caught him and held him back. "Let us do our jobs."
He nodded and went back to the chairs in the waiting area. Sam rushed at him before he could sit down. "Where is he? Where's Dean?"
"Calm down. He's with the doctor's. All we can do is wait."
"Is he going to be okay?" Sam was wide eyed and scared.
"I hope so Sam." John replied. "I hope so."
The man responsible for this didn't have long to breathe if John Winchester had anything to say about it. He may not be supernatural, but he was as evil as they came, and John Winchester hunted evil. Hunted it, killed it, salted and burned it.
Everything hurt. He knew that before he even opened his eyes. The sounds near his head were strange, soft beeping that took him a few minutes to place. Hospital. He opened his eyes, or the one that would open.
He was on his left side, his back bare. His right leg was encased in plaster, from the hip down to his ankle. Movement beside him caught his eye. His father smiled softly at him, glancing at Sam asleep in his lap.
"Hey." John said softly. His hand brushed over Dean's head. "You're going to be okay."
Dean wasn't sure if his father was placating him or serious. He didn't feel like he was going to be okay. He felt like he'd been worked over by a pack of rhinos.
He flushed as he remember what he'd been worked over by. He closed his eyes, remembering the pain, Sean…who Dean had started to believe actually liked him. They'd fucked him too…and then…he squeezed his eyes closed tighter. His father had found him like that. With that…thing…shoved up his ass, with his skin covered in come.
"It's okay, Dean." His father's voice was gentle, soft even. "It's okay. It's over now."
Dean shivered. "No. Charlie…" He opened his eyes. His father's smile was frightening.
"Don't worry about him. I've got plans for him."
Dean didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure they were plans that even Charlie wouldn't see coming.
Sam hardly left Dean's side, even now that they were moved and set up someplace far enough away that Charlie and his men would never find them. Dean wasn't back on his feet yet, but at least John didn't hear him crying at night anymore.
Spring was coming and Dean was at least out of the heavy cast and into a leg brace that had him a little more mobile.
John finished packing his bag and looked up at Dean who was leaning on the door of his bedroom.
"Is there a reason Pastor Jim just pulled in?"
John nodded. "I asked him to keep an eye on you boys. I've got something I need to do."
"You know, we don't need a babysitter." Dean said.
"No, but you can't hold a gun steady with that shoulder yet, and I'm not leaving you boys without protection. I won't be long."
"What is it this time?" Dean asked.
John wasn't about to tell him the truth. "Remember before my accident, I was hunting?" Dean nodded. John crossed to his dresser and picked up his favorite rosary. "It was a vampire, and it got away. I'm going back to finish it."
"You sure you're ready for that?" Dean asked, his voice clearly indicating he didn't think John was.
"Only one way to find out, Son. I won't be long."
In fact, there was a lot more to it. The vampire had gotten between him and the werewolf he had been hunting. He needed to kill the wolf before the lunar cycle ended and he wasn't prepared for vampire, so John had trapped the vampire in and abandoned mine, chained and locked behind sealed doors until John could get back there to kill it.
By now, provided it was still where he left it, it would be starving.
Truth was, John wasn't back to a hundred percent himself, but he was done waiting for justice. He'd let Jim talk him into running, into taking the boys away and not ripping the man to shreds with his own hands, but now that he was stronger, now that he knew…A month before he'd set the ball rolling, calling in an old favor with Bobby Singer.
He grabbed his bag and Dean shifted out of his way, following him slowly. Jim was already dropping his own bag on the coffee table. "Watch the speed traps around the state line."
John nodded. "You two behave."
"You be careful." Dean said.
Something in the tone made John wonder if the boy knew what he was really up to. "Be back before you know it."
He'd been stewing on it a long while. He'd gotten the whole story over time from Dean, how the man had given him hope and then manipulated him, used his love of his family to terrorize him.
And Dean wasn't alone. There were others.
But John wasn't going to let him terrorize any others.
His first stop was that abandoned mine, armed with holy water and a dagger laced with dead man's blood. The fight left them both bloody, but when it was done, the vampire was in the trunk of his car and he set off to find Charlie and his boys.
It was just past closing time when John pulled up. He watched the dancers leaving, watched the bouncer close and lock the front door. He pulled the heavy chain out of the back seat and went to those doors, looping the chain through the handles and locking them tight.
He opened the trunk. The vampire hissed at him, but John dragged him out and marched him up the alley toward the dressing room door.
"I figure you must be hungry. I'm going to give you a treat. Anyone inside this building is yours. Gorge yourself. My way of paying you back for the months of starvation."
"And then what?"
John smiled. "Get out if you can." He cut the rope binding the vampire's hands and shoved him in the door. "I aim to burn the place down by morning."
He shoved the door shut behind the vampire. The metal pole was right where Bobby had said it would be. John lifted it from behind the trash cans and wedged one end under the door knob. The other crammed against the wall on the opposite side of the alley, making the door impossible to open.
He headed back toward the car then, imagining he could hear screaming inside. "Told you you would never see me again, bastard." He reached into the front seat of the car, opening his duffle bag.
The remote was simple enough, the charges set in the building's basement. The fire would start slow, and burn hot. Very hot. By the time the sun rose, there wouldn't be anyone inside left to save.
It wasn't the ending he would have preferred. But Jim was right about that. It couldn't trace back to him, or his boys.
He got in the car and started it, holding the switch. He pulled out into the street, pressing the button. He let his eyes sweep the building once more, then he headed out, headed home, back to his boys.
Where he belonged.
Dean looked up when he came in, his eyes meeting John's and asking the question he wouldn't ask with Jim and Sam sitting there. John nodded.
Dean relaxed, smiled even.
Neither one of them was one hundred percent themselves again. They might never be. One icy road, one accident had changed them both. But they were together, and they were safe. As safe as any family could be. John aimed to make sure they stayed that way.
