FIC: Weapon of Choice: Chapter 17
Dec. 10th, 2006 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xantissaFirst. This chapter was created by accident. Do not expect another one this fast.
Ok. I know I digressed, but you just have to suffer it for now. Marakaj is another of my original characters and he is old. I created him first in one of my original stories, oh, almost eight years ago. Jeez. I wasn’t aware it was so long already!
He will reoccur from time to time, but the boys will be the main focus. Don’t worry!
And, uhm, het sex ahead. Because John needs to get laid some more.
Title: Weapon of Choice
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: xantissa
Summary: A case turning out to be a set up. Sam taken away from him. An enemy he can’t identify. Father that struggles to understand. Dean, alone, fighting to save his brother from power no one can really understand.
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Warnings: incest, slash, demon possession, violence.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to WB. I do it just for fun, no profit being made from my writing.
Spoilers: Mild for Asylum, Nightmare tiny ones for probably most of the first season.
Thanks for beta to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lifesscar
Chapter 17
“Dad?” Dean asked quietly. His father was sitting slumped over the wide kitchen table. He looked old. Tired. His hair was mussed, the beard giving him an even more haggard look.
John poured himself another shot of whiskey and swallowed the burning liquid in one go. He didn’t move towards Dean. Didn’t turn. Didn’t make any move that would mean he heard Dean.
Dean watched his father not acknowledge him and felt something heavy and bitter gather in his chest. Disappointment. Fear. Dean’s greatest nightmare was not living up to his father’s expectations. And recently, all he seemed to do, every choice he makes is one more disappointment. One more failure.
He run his fingers over the smooth surface of the doorframe, seeking something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded. He pressed his forehead against it and closed his eyes. He wanted so desperately to explain, but how could he if even he had no idea what was going on? He felt so damn lost, confused.
He watched his father’s big figure with a longing he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy. He wanted his dad to hold him and tell him that it’s okay, that everything would be okay. But John didn’t. And his words wouldn’t make things okay either. But the foolishness of his desire didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Dad...” He whispered, forehead pressed so hard against the doorframe he could feel grinding against his skull.
For a long time no one said anything The harsh, a little desperate breathing was the only sound in the room.
“I have been hunting the supernatural for most of my life.” John said slowly, carefully, an odd, painful note in his voice. “And now both my sons have become something I can’t understand. Something...” John broke off, but it was too late. Dean already heard the unspoken thing.
‘not normal’
‘supernatural’
John stood up, slowly and quietly. Never once looking at Dean.
“I need to go. Think things through. Make sure to give your brother two of the pills I brought.” John left the more than half full bottle on the table and pulled the coat over his shoulders. “I’ll be back later.”
He brushed by Dean and left the apartment as fast as he could.
Dean pressed his face against the cold wall again, trying to stop the pleas that almost escaped his lips. He begged too much already.
* * *
Sarah looked up from the book she was pretending to be reading for the last few hours. In truth she was quietly freaking out. In all the times she lived so far, she never once had children. She was sure of it. She always assumed it was the effect of her powers. All she could do was take life, life energy. So it only made sense she was not allowed to create life herself.
Yet here she was, supposedly pregnant. The energy inside her was so very faint, so tiny she really wasn’t sure if she wasn’t imagining it. But the demon came to her. And he wouldn’t have bothered if there wasn’t something for him in this visit. She wondered about the child. Was it human? Was it a hybrid of some kind? Would it have a free will, a choice that she had? Or did the demons learn their mistake? They thought it would be funny to give a power of destruction to a human child and then watch as God’s beloved humans, the ones he gave free will to, used that freedom to destroy themselves.
It didn’t end quite like they planned. And both sides paid the price.
Now they came again. She got a visit from a demon; it wouldn’t be long before the other side came, too. Someone once told her that those who fear darkness, have never seen what light can do. Truer words were never spoken again.
Sarah wondered if it was John’s fault somehow. She said she used pills. And that was true. She did. For years now. And here she was. Fucking pregnant and things were becoming a mess pretty damn quickly again. The man she was slowly falling in love with was going to leave her in a few days and probably never look back, the peace she worked for would get ripped away when different sides of the same war would come after her child, should she decide to keep it.
Sarah was also aware of the familiar presence somewhere near her apartment building. In a way John did seem the stalker type. It kind of got into his habit to hide in the shadows. She wondered if he realized how odd that was. But as long as she could sense him, it was okay. She wondered what might have happened to bring him back so soon. He just left her place, saying that Sam hurt himself. Again. And that he needed to get some serious drugs to keep him calm while his body healed.
Now, a few hours later he was back again when she would expect him to stay by his son’s side. Yet here he was, hovering in the shadows. Sarah figured he would come to her when he was good and ready and coming out to him would not be a good idea. She wasn’t too calm or feeling too generous at the moment either so maybe it was better this way.
When the knock finally came, she pushed the cat from her lap and stood up. She had a strange feeling of deja-vu walking the length of he cluttered corridor. She knew who was behind those doors. It was the middle of the night again and it’s been raining for hours.
When she opened the door, she found John leaning on the doorframe with hands spread wide. His coat was heavy with water and hair sticking out in wet tufts. His eyes were dark, tired and haunted. His beard hid most of his face, but his eyes were enough. Whatever had happened had hurt him. She was surprised by the surge of protective feelings towards him. But not only. She also felt pure feminine attraction as she watched him gather his quite large frame and enter her home.
He smelled like rain, cigarettes, whisky and man. He didn’t say a word. Just raised one of his cold hands, the fingers rough, small scars sprinkled all over and touched her face. She shivered at the trace of cold wetness. Over her cheek down over her neck.
They were both still and silent for the longest moment. His finger trailed a wet path along her skin, but Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from his eyes. Dark and hooded, pain written clearly across his face. Something happened. Something that shook him to the core.
“John.” It was barely a breath, an exhale of warm breath more than a word but it enough to break the spell of stillness.
He was strong and fierce and all she could do was surrender as John pushed her into the wall and lifted her up. Even through the layers of damp clothing she could feel his muscles working. She was definitely not light. But it didn’t seem to matter at all to him.
John pressed his lips to her neck and bit down. Hard, bruising the delicate skin there. Sarah whimpered and tilted her head back, showing even more of the vulnerable skin, inviting him in.
There were no words, almost no foreplay, just his hands reaching to the stretched waistband of her sweats and pushed. She hissed when his cold, damp skin connected with her ass. He scratched his blunt fingernail over the delicate skin and mouthed on her neck some more, spreading saliva and heat all over her skin.
Sarah barely even noticed her own fingers curling into claws on his shoulders, long nails digging into his flesh even through the clothes. John hissed and let her go, pushing the sweats even more down, past the swell of her hips, until they fell to the floor.
Like a pair of drunks they stumbled over each other, pulling at clothes and cursing, desperately trying to reach naked skin. He bit down on her naked shoulder, she scratched his back until she felt damp wetness under her fingertips. The pain seemed to liberate something in John. He only arched and pulled her closer, his body heating up. His muscles, powerful and beautiful, worked under the tanned skin as he used his strength to push her where he wanted her.
They were both naked and he hasn’t even kissed her once. John crowded her, making her back away. His masculinity was overpowering to her, and now when he was naked it only amplified. His chest, very lightly furred, flexed and twitched as he grabbed her when she lost her footing, his neck a strong column of flesh that she couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on. She felt saltines of skin and sweat under her tongue and worried with her teeth until she was sure there would be a huge bruise come tomorrow.
She was wet already, her belly clenching with anticipation. This was gong to be fast and rough, much more than any time before with John.
They reached the dark bedroom. Her bed was unmade. She didn’t have time to do it today and she was quite messy anyway. She expected being pushed towards the bed so she yelped in surprise when he pushed her against the wall. He crowded close, his whole body pressing at her. His hard, hot chest smashing into her breasts he had such fixation on before, his muscled thighs forcing their way between hers, pushing her off balance.
Sarah grabbed John’s arms, trying to keep herself from falling. She whimpered again, as his big, callused palms closed over her buttocks and pulled up. Instinctively she closed her legs around him. Before she even had the time to get used to the change in position she heard the round of foil being crunched under his feet and then his cock was invading her. Big and hard, John pushed inside ruthlessly. Too fast for her. She felt all the air leave her lungs and dugs her nails even deeper into his skin. John cursed and the pain seemed to just spur him on. He shifted and she groaned as his cock pushed a little bit deeper and then started moving. His muscles worked, ass and back working to keep her off the ground and drive him inside.
Jesus, it was too much. It was too much and not enough. It hurt but in a good way. It made her sweat and beg; she didn’t even know for what.
One of his hands left her already bruised hip and snaked between then. She shivered as she felt him tracing the place where his cock disappeared into her. John pressed his lips against hers, pressing his tongue inside, forcing her to just hold on, to surrender in a way she never thought she would be capable of. It was more of a conquer than a kiss, his tongue staking claim over her and his heavy, hot dick pounding inside her like there was no tomorrow. It was strangely erotic, arousing to be used that way. As an outlet to his emotions, his lust.
She tightened her legs even more, drawing him closer, suddenly in as much of hurry as him.
His fingers moved, hard and rough and found her clit. He pressed his thumb against the slippery flesh and started rubbing. Hard and fast. Too hard. Too fast.
She broke the kiss and arched back. Too much, too much and she was coming. Her muscles clamping down on his cock. John didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. He kept fucking her against the wall, his cock sliding easily over the abundance of juices and his hands still rubbing her almost cruelly, forcing more and more shudders out of him.
“Stop, stop.” She panted unable to take any more. “Please, John.” She begged, not really sure what she wanted, not even recognizing the breathy voice that came out of her throat.
He kissed her again, hard lips, teeth mashing and then let her go. She slid bonelessly down the wall a few inches until John grabbed her again. Slowly he withdrew from her, his cock still burgeoning and hard wrapped in a condom she had no idea when he put on. Sarah considered telling him not to bother with protection but it would be kind of a dead give away. He used condoms ever since that first time. It was raining then, too.
“The bed. Now.” He said, his voice all hoarse gravel and lust.
On wobbly feet she stumbled towards her bed, keeping an eye on John. He stripped the set of his clothing. His shirt that hung around one shoulder and the socks that he still had on. He looked almost menacing naked and dark, his body a perfectly shaped weapon, his cock hard and heavy between his legs, jutting out from the patch of dark, curly hair.
Without a single word, he approached the bed, gripped her hips and flipped her on her stomach. No questions. No apologies. And damn, but that was making her hot again. She clenched her stomach muscles as she felt him grab her knees roughly and spread them. Sarah pressed her face into the cool pillow, her cheeks burning.
A long, drawn out moan left both their throats as he entered her again, from behind. She was a little sore already, but still more than slick enough and her muscles kind of pulsed from the last orgasm.
John pressed into her with his whole body, covering her back. His hands sneaked under her to close over her breasts that he did have a fetish on. And his hips snapped forwards. He was obviously not going to be done any time soon.
* * *
Dean grabbed the more than half full bottle of cheap whiskey and unscrewed the cap. Jesus. How bad were things going to get before they finally started getting better? He couldn’t erase the look of shock and disappointment in John’s eyes. Scrunching his eyes tightly closed, he brought the bottle to his lips and tilted, forcing himself to gulp the fiery liquid without even a break for breath. His throat burned so bad he could almost explain the wetness on his cheeks and his lungs screamed for air but he kept going. Kept swallowing the alcohol in huge, desperate gulps until he could see black spots in front of his eyes.
His chest tried vainly to expand, whisky choking but he kept swallowing. His ribs screamed from the sudden jerk of his muscles fighting for survival and Dean spluttered, the need for air winning. Whisky sloshed in the bottle, over his chin and burned his eyes, or that was what he told himself.
He coughed, and it sent more pain up his chest sending him to his knees, nauseous with pain and something else, he just didn’t want to name. It was too much, too fucking much. He just couldn’t deal with Sam out of his mind with grief, with the guilt that threatened to strangle him, the weight on his shoulders. The responsibility that he needed to make it all better somehow. And he can’t. He is just a fucking failure, keeps destroying everything he touches. He wished he never came back for Sam, that he left him in Stanford to lead his dream life with his beautiful girl.
Girl that died and started haunting Dean in his dreams and in reality.
He slid to his knees and looked at the barely two inches of alcohol left in the bottle. He raised it to his lips and quickly drank down the rest of the amber liquid. He felt nauseous and hot, whisky hitting him much stronger than usual. He threw the bottle away with a slurred curse. It wasn’t fucking fair. It was way too damn much for him to endure alone. As he watched the bottle shatter, the glass spilling everywhere his vision turned black and he toppled forward, passing out on the kitchen floor.
* * *
When Dean opened his eyes he was lying on a patch of damp grass.
“What the fuck...” He started, pushing himself off the damp ground.
The second thing that set off his alarm bells was the lack of pain. His ribs didn’t scream bloody murder at him. He looked up and cursed to high heaven.
The warehouse. The fucking, god damned, son of a bitch warehouse where Sam got possessed.
He was dreaming again.
Dean got up and brushed most of the dirt from his jeans. He just knew that the moment he looked around he would see her. And damn, but he had had enough to deal with today. He did not need Jessica. Well at least the up side was that he didn’t start the dream with fucking her. Because that? Was seriously fucking with his mind.
This time she was sitting on the bench. She was dressed in a white, lacy dress that flowed around her thin, beautiful body in soft waves. Her hair was curling over her shoulders and framing that almost innocent face in strands of gold as she tilted her face up, to the sun. She looked eerily calm. Different than before. Easier somehow.
Dean sighed and sat down on the bench beside her. He couldn’t smell her, couldn’t feel the heat of her body. And it made it easier somehow. That she wasn’t flesh and bone for him any more. But he already knew, still remembered the taste of her skin under his tongue. The sounds she made when he entered her. It was so fucked up he had no idea where to even start.
“I really, really am not in the mood for nightmares right now. Can we please not do this today? Can I have a rain check, please?”
Jess turned her face towards him. Her blue eyes locked with his. She looked at him, really looked and...
Dean stood up suddenly, scanning the familiar – unfamiliar surroundings.
“Something’s different.” He murmured to himself. Because Jess before, in those nightmares he had earlier, was just an echo of the woman he saw very briefly.
“Yes. It is.” She answered him. And that alone was a dead giveaway. She never once responded to him before. Not that clearly anyway.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are you here?”
Jess looked at her, her blue eyes almost luminescent.
“I’m here because you bring me here.”
Dean stared at her. No. Just fucking no. He couldn’t deal with anything more right now. He has had enough. Dean pressed his hands to his ears and scrunched his eyes closed.
“No!” He yelled as loud as he could, denying everything he saw and felt. He screamed so long and so hard he woke himself up. Lying in an undignified lump on the kitchen floor, his ribs aching so badly he thought he was going to throw up.
* * *
Sarah groaned waking up, a minute before strong knocking to the door roused John also.
“’S okay.” She murmured, her voice low and hoarse. “I know who it is.” She stumbled out of bed, no grace whatsoever and hunted for something to wear. Her hair was messed up beyond belief sticking out in blonde tufts and her lips were still a bit swollen. There were small red marks along her neck and little scratch marks over her shoulders.
John blinked at her, but trusted her words and didn’t make a move to get up. He felt content to just lay there and watch her. She wasn’t beautiful by any modern standards. She had quite a bit more weight on her than could be called only a few pounds. There were definitely more than a few. But there was something inherently female about her. Her long, incredibly soft and thick hair, her lips and long, strong column of her throat spoke to the most primal instincts inside him. She was also a definite alpha female. She had no problems standing up to him. She barely even noticed when he opposed to be truthful. There was strength, a natural ability to lead people in her. Not charm but definitely charisma and strength. She was a rare breed nowadays.
He watched her as she huffed while dressing and then stumbled her way towards the door. He was already awake and going back to sleep was so out of the question. John sat up and rubbed his face with his palms. Sarah awakened some strange instincts inside him. He felt a little odd, ashamed even about the way he treated her the night before. He honestly couldn’t remember ever being this rough with a woman. But Sarah was almost his height, she weighed marginally less than him and was built strongly. She looked like she could take whatever he dished out. And somewhere along the way he forgot what was drummed into him throughout his childhood. That one should always be careful around a woman, not swear and not hurt her. And yet here he was, biting and scratching at her like a man possessed. And she didn’t even try to stop him. She just took it and gave back as good as she got. He could feel the deep, now scabbed scratches on his back and bite marks all over his chest.
He came to her in pain, and she let him work it out. He felt calmer, more happy in a way. A weight was lifted from his shoulders, a feeling that everything would work out now filling him. It always surprised him how heavily emotions were connected to a purely physical state. Sex, apparently, did wonders for his mental state. A sudden thought occurred to him then. That it wasn’t just sex. Not any more. Even though it was rough and fast, and harsh it was so much more fulfilling than any of his one night stands after Mary. He respected Sarah, and genuinely liked her. And wanted her. That was so much more than he allowed himself to have for over twenty years now. And it made him feel guilty. How could he move on with his life, find somebody else when Mary was dead and her killer still at large?
He dressed to the low murmur of voices. John paused and crept as silently as he could towards the kitchen where the voices were coming from. One was obviously Sarah’s. Still sleep roughened and lazy. That woman took forever to wake up properly. The other one was male. But John had never heard a voice like that. It was low, rich like chocolate and seductive. The timbre odd and captivating.
“Marakaj, you know perfectly well that I’m neutral. I always have been. I won’t work for your family, nor any other.”
There was a hum of water, she was probably going to make coffee.
“Am I asking you for anything?” The man was obviously amused and relaxed.
“There is not a single altruistic cell in your body. You come here, bringing gifts? You definitely want something back.”
“I’m hurt.” The man murmured, his voice all sex and gravel. “Have I ever been anything less than friendly towards you?”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Why do you offer me that information? You know me. I will take it and give nothing back. It’s you who wants to give it to me, not me who asked. Therefore there’s no need for me to be grateful.”
The man laughed.
“Your honesty was always so refreshing. Anyway, you shouldn’t be surprised. You are the most valuable commodity these days. Everybody watches you. Imagine the outcry it caused when different families in LA learned that you got involved with a hunter, no less. People got nervous. Maybe even trigger happy a bit. I offered to come and scout the area a bit. After all, you hooking up with a hunter was like an open invitation to war.”
“I am and always was neutral. John doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
A low chuckle from the man sent strange shivers up John’s spine.
“Now. We both know that’s not exactly true. You weren’t always neutral.” There was a shared secret in his voice and it made John feel... jealous.
“There was a witness, Sarah.”
Sarah sighed.
“I keep forgetting. Even for your kind, it’s a long time to live.”
John rounded the corner and finally stood face to face with the owner of the most captivating voice that he ever heard.
The man was tall, probably as tall as Sam. His face was smooth and almost perfect. Long nose, sharp cheekbones, full lips. His hair was black, deep dark that contrasted with the paleness of his face sharply. It was straight and fell in a soft, shiny cascade down to his waist. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt, two top buttons undone.
His eyes had the most incredible color John remembered seeing. Dark blue, navy blue and the color was so sharp and clear it had to be contact lenses. It wasn’t natural. His clothes, although casual, were obviously expensive. The shirt clung to his body, showing strong muscles and long limbs off with ease that only came with tailored clothes. He had an expensive watch on his arm and a concealed blade in his right boot. He looked about thirty, but his face was so smooth and perfect, ageless, that he could have been fifty and John wouldn’t know.
He tensed at the concealed weapon but Sarah seemed relaxed around him, familiar, so he took his cues from her.
“And what kind would that be?” John asked a little suspicious.
Sarah poured water into the waiting cups. Two teas and one coffee. So this man shared her fancy for tea.
“A vampire.” Marakaj answered, very obviously pleased by the reaction John wasn’t quite able to hide.
John stared at the sharp sunlight filtering through the kitchen window and resting on Marakaj’s exposed hand. The man leaned over the counter, his back to the windows and didn’t seem bothered by the sunlight. Yes, John knew vampires didn’t burn in sunlight but it hurt them, like a bad allergy, so they avoided it. This one didn’t, though.
“Marakaj, meet John Winchester. A hunter. John. This is Marakaj. The head of one of the biggest families in the north-west US. My house is a neutral place so please, be civil to each other.”
John stared. He felt... he had no idea how he felt.
“Families?” He asked, not sure he heard right.
Marakaj smiled, obviously pleased with himself and the world in general. John resisted the urge to punch him.
“Yes. Hundreds and hundreds of my people all over this wonderful country.”
It was... disturbing was mildly put. This Marakaj looked and behaved like nothing John expected from a vampire.
“I have hunted your kind before.” He said, trying to wipe that self satisfied smirk off that pale, beautiful face.
Marakaj took the offered cup and sipped some of the rich smelling tea.
“Correction. You hunted some primitive being that carried a vague resemblance to my kind. So don’t think you can do a damn thing to me. After all you are just a fragile human.” There was a threat underlying the amusement.
“Boys.” Sarah warned them both softly. “My home, my rules.” She put the cup down. “Marakaj stays for breakfast. He has some info you might find important, John.”
She turned back to the cupboards, reaching for the bread to make some sandwiches.
Shit, John thought. He was obviously going to have breakfast with a vampire. His life just kept getting better and better. But there was nothing he could do. Sarah once showed him what she could do. And he had no doubts he would make them both pay if they even thought of disturbing her home.
The long haired man sprawled himself decadently over the nearest chair, his air falling in a soft wave over his shoulders, framing a face that was just too pretty. It disturbed John, that he noticed it. That he was more than aware of how damn attractive this man was. His face might be ethereal, almost feminine but there was nothing feminine in the way his body was built. Huge palms cradled the mug that looked positively tiny in those long fingers. His chest, well defined and wide, filled the tailored shirt perfectly. The strong but not too big pectorals flexed with each lazy move. His long, strong legs encased in denim, were spread out in front of him with a kind of lazy, cocky sensuality. He was perfectly aware of how attractive he was.
John felt an uncomfortable flush under his whiskers and quickly took a seat behind the breakfast table.
The corner of Marakaj’s lips lifted in an amused smirk. He knew damn well just what effect he had on John.
“Glamour.” John said suddenly, his mind finally making the connection. “You are using a glamour.” Because no one, no one could be this attractive. Especially when John had never once been attracted to a man in his life.
This time there was a spark of respect in those eerie, navy blue eyes.
“Something like that. I’m impressed that you caught up so quickly. Most people never do.” His voice was low, rich, so damn intoxicating.
Knowing that it was magic, a spell that made him look so good, did nothing to lessen the allure. He cast a glance at Sarah, still making sandwiches as if everything was peachy. As if there wasn’t a vampire sitting behind her kitchen table.
“Don’t look at me. Magic, spells, it doesn’t work on me. Never did.” She said calmly, casually. Too casually. There was something underlying her words...
Amusement.
“You find it funny, don’t you?” He accused.
Sarah let go of a tiny smile that had been tugging at her lips for quite a while.
“Maybe a little. But John,” She almost whined, “you are just such a macho man and seeing you falling for Marakaj, even if a little bit, it’s just... priceless.” She couldn’t stop the giggle.
“I’m not falling for anybody!” He denied vehemently even though there was that strange thought in the back of his mind, the what if... John shook his head.
“Stop it!” He barked, more embarrassed than angry.
“I can’t. Stop fighting the attraction, accept it and the impact will lessen considerably.” Marakaj advised, still so insufferably amused with himself and situation.
“You can relax, John. Marakaj is here to help. I promise.” Sarah interjected setting a plate filled with sandwiches on the table between them.
“How can you be so sure?” John challenged her, still uneasy with his feelings and her amusement.
Her eyes darkened, the amusement evaporating and John instantly regretted snapping at her.
“Because if he helps you now, I will be more inclined to help when he comes asking for a favor. And he will. Nothing is ever free with Marakaj.”
John looked up at the vampire. Marakaj was chewing and watching Sarah with a strangely thoughtful expression. There was a kind of emotion in his eyes now, that wasn’t there before. In that moment John realized that the vampire wanted Sarah. John felt a dark kind of amusement, possessiveness and pure pride that he had something the vampire wanted. So what if the vampire was handsome as all hell, obviously rich and sophisticated. Sarah still chose John, a graying hunter with two grown children and a shitload of problems.
John reached out to Sarah and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, relishing the fact that she let him, didn’t flinch at his touch.
She looked up at him, eyes spilling amber all over the sun filled kitchen and smiled. Soft, intimate, familiar, before turning her attention back to her breakfast.
John looked at the vampire again and was pleased to see him watching John. He wasn’t so amused any more.
“So, what do you know?”
Marakaj swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and leaned back, exposing the strong lines of his throat.
“The body of Nathaniel Belmonde has disappeared after your son contacted Sarah. The police department that worked the murders your son committed has suffered a severe fire last night. There is no more evidence connecting Samuel Winchester to anything. Someone went to great lengths to sweep it under the rug.”
John swallowed.
“Belmonde wasn’t the only one involved.” He whispered, feeling a sharp sense of fear spear him. Sam and Dean were alone now.
“Apparently.”
“Do you know who it is?” John asked, all previous hostility gone.
Marakaj shook his head.
“Whoever that is hides pretty well. If I can’t find him, it means he has means that aren’t available to me. And there isn’t much that I can’t use. Either way, you have to take you children and leave the city. It’s not safe for you here. All of you.”
John looked at Sarah. Her head was bent and she was staring at her cup of tea. She knew he was going to leave. He never promised anything else. But still he felt guilty. Because he had a feeling he got more out of this relationship than she. He got help, a chance to save his son, a lover. She? Not nearly as much.
“That’s not so easy. Sam is in no condition to travel.” John said slowly, already planning. No matter what it might look like, he had to keep his boys safe. Do what he failed to do so far.
Marakaj looked at Sarah, obviously considering something.
“I have a place, not far from LA that I could let you use. It’s well protected against both humans and supernatural beings. And it’s fairly secluded.”
“I would have to think about it.” John said raising from the table. The fact that there might be someone else after Sam was turning his blood cold. He needed to get his boys away from this city as fast as possible.
“Well, I think it’s time for me to go.” Marakaj rose from the table, all grace and sensuality.
Meow.
All three of them looked down to see T sitting on the floor in front of Marakaj and gazing at him with adoring eyes. It was kind of disgusting how sweetly the cat behaved in front of the vampire.
T purred and Marakaj smiled, bending down to pick her up. Although it was a rather large cat, it looked tiny in his arm. He stroked T and murmured adornments at her and she purred for all she was worth.
Sarah stared at them with a wry smile on her lips.
“You know, she would gladly have your kittens if she could, she adores you so much. I can’t honestly remember the last time when she was so nice or clingy to me.”
Marakaj snorted.
“She just has an exquisite taste. She is one very smart and one very beautiful lady, aren’t you T?” He all but purred at the cat. The cat purred back closing her eyes in pleasure.
Sarah got up. “I’ll show you to the door.” She shot John a look that clearly meant he was not to follow and left the kitchen. Marakaj shot him a look also, but this one John couldn’t decipher.
“If you decide to use my cabin, just tell Sarah. She knows how to contact me.” Still carrying the cat, Marakaj left the kitchen after Sarah.
* * *
Marakaj let the cat jump down and looked at Sarah holding the door open.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, his brow furrowing.
“Of course. Why do you ask?” They had strange relationship. Not quite a friendship, but much more than anything else. In a way, Marakaj seemed to have a weakness for her. Yes, always wanted something for his help. But the price was never high and always known from the start.
“You smell differently. Not sick but...” He shook his head. “You should go the doctor though and get yourself checked out.” There was honest concern in his voice.
Sarah smiled but said nothing. She knew what he smelled and was quite baffled that he could sense she was pregnant so early.
“How are things going on with Nara?” She tried to change the topic.
He rolled his eyes, his face expressive and almost open.
“Still fucking in love with that damn human.” He growled with contempt.
“I’m sorry. I really am.” And she was. Nara was his wife, his partner for most of his life. He trained her, molded her into the woman she was now, taught to be his partner, his right hand and she left him. For a human no less. He played it cool, but it must have hurt him. He never said that he loved her, but if he didn’t she would already be dead for her betrayal, not left alone. Unhurt.
“Don’t be. She’s just a woman. I can have dozens like her.”
She watched him shrug on his black, expensive, tailored jacket and thought that yes, he might have dozens but not the one he wants. Somehow Marakaj always ended up alone.
“Don’t pity me, Sarah.” He said catching her thoughtful gaze. “I’m having way too much fun in this life to deserve pity. Call me when you lover boy decides something.”
She snorted at John being called her lover boy. Hell, calling him a boy was hilarious in itself. She closed the door and went back in search of John. The cat ran by her side.
“Traitor.” She murmured at the cat.
The feline pretended not to hear a thing.
She found John in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes. He looked so out of place standing behind the sink and washing plates.
“What?” He asked, sensing her staring.
“Nothing. It’s just that you doing dishes is such an... odd sight.”
John laughed. Low and easy.
“I raised two sons. Believe me, I spent more time washing plates and pans than I ever wanted to.”
Sarah looked at him and although she knew he was a father, couldn’t really imagine him as one. He was a warrior, a hunter deep down to the bone. Trying to picture him changing diapers or teaching his sons the alphabet was... difficult. She knew it was unfair of her, to deny that part of him, but she still knew him very little. And obviously she wouldn’t have a chance to get to know him better.
She thought about the new life inside her. But as she watched him dry the cleaned dishes and then stretch out to put them into the cupboards, she noticed the gun tucked in the back of his pants. Even here, inside her home he was armed and ready to fight, watching out for threats, planning and assessing. Sarah knew then, that she wouldn’t tell him. John didn’t need nor want this kind of complication. He had his revenge. The only mistress he desired.
“So...” John started, deceptively casual. “How did you get to know a vampire? And how old is he, anyway.”
She grabbed an apple and sat on the chair, watching him clean and act so very casually.
“It’s a long story. Not really very interesting, but long.” She bit down into the apple. “He found me. Basically, Marakaj was always around.”
John looked back at her, there was an odd note in her voice.
“Always? As in ten, fifteen years? Since you were a child?”
Sarah licked her lips and looked at John from beneath her lashes.
“As in ever since I lived for the first time. I have known him in all the lifetimes I had.”
John dropped his pretense at being casual and stared at her.
“You are shitting me.” He didn’t even notice he was swearing.
“No, I’m not. I think he is over two thousandth years old. He was always old.” She murmured.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because of his power, of the kind of magic he can use effortlessly. I can’t sense a limit to it. Basically magic is energy, harnessed and controlled, put into a shape given it by a spell. Marakaj is like an ocean. There is no end to his power. He is one of the very few creatures I probably wouldn’t be able to kill. So I would be very grateful if you didn’t try to come after him. He won’t attack you due to the association with me, but if you make the first move, all bets are off. I know you are intelligent and smart, trained in combat. But he was a general, a genius tactician for centuries. There is no fighting that kind of experience. Please don’t challenge him.”
John felt an odd pang of... something, at the knowledge that she was, indeed, afraid for him.
“He is a vampire. He kills people...”
Sarah stopped him.
“No. He doesn’t. It’s too much trouble and besides his kind has accumulated vast financial resources over the centuries. He simply pays donors to offer him their blood. He takes some, but he doesn’t kill. No vampire needs to kill. It’s just that they don’t control or don’t want to control their instincts.”
“His kind?” John interjected completely lost.
Sarah cocked her head, baffled.
“So you don’t know? Vampires, like humans, have different races. They differ from each other. Marakaj is a Nosferatu. They are mostly magical.”
“The vampires I met were instinctual, bloody creatures that killed more for joy than food. I never saw anything that would confirm your words. Besides I thought that vampires were extinct anyway.”
“Most of them are.” Sarah agreed. “There was a huge war between the families. By then they were lacking pure blooded leaders like Marakaj so the alliances disintegrated. The Nosferatu family won. Marakaj slaughtered most of their population before he accepted a peace treaty. He knew what he was doing. He went for the oldest, most powerful and knowledgeable vampires in other families, thus setting them back severely. That’s how the Grhu-ha had started roaming free.”
“What is a Grhu-ha?” Jesus. John had no idea about it.
“They are the outcasts. The ones that regressed into instincts and animal like behaviors. Probably what you met before.”
John scrubbed his face with his palms.
Jesus Christ.
“And you are telling me that they all are so law abiding and good hearted that they don’t kill humans?”
Sarah shook her head and there was a little pity in her eyes.
“No. of course not. But they are severely outnumbered by humans and they don’t want to draw attention to themselves. Because when push came to shove, humans would win. So they don’t kill to avoid drawing attention to themselves. And in this age and place it’s more than easy to buy donors than kidnap or maim them.”
John paced a little.
“This all, what you are talking about... it’s just too unreal.”
Sarah could feel her eyebrows disappear into her hairline.
“Unreal?” She repeated because she damn well couldn’t believe he used that word. “Remind me, because I forgot, just what do you do on a daily basis?”
John tilted his head in acknowledgment and smiled a little ruefully.
Sarah watched him pace and felt they couldn’t avoid the issue any longer.
“You should accept Marakaj’s offer.”
John froze for a second, then resumed his pacing.
“I know.” He said, voice low and hoarse, without looking at her. “But I have never run from anything in my life.”
She was silent for a long moment, watching as his strong, compact body moved gracefully. He was so very male, simply exuded that primal aura of strength and confidence. Add the dark and brooding hero allure to it you got a quite heady mix. Letting him go without fight or tears would be one of the hardest things she ever did. But John didn’t deserve to feel guilty.
“Sam and Dean need time to heal and bond. If they don‘t, all this would be in vain.”
John stopped in front of the window and looked down onto the street.
“That’s the only reason I am agreeing to this. I obviously can’t protect Sam, and he is in no shape to take care of himself, not mentioning actually protecting himself.”
She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to go to him and hug him. But she couldn’t trust herself to let go if she did.
“I’ll go call Marakaj. Set things in motion.”
* * *
He was tired and fuzzy, his brain still caught up in the terror of the nightmare. Somebody was shaking him, trying to wake him up. His body tensed, heart quickening, the fear finding a new focus.
The air smelled of alcohol and blood.
“Sam. Sammy. It’s me. Wake up, man.”
Dean.
Sam didn’t want to wake up, his brain was so fuzzy, his eyes just stayed closed no matter how hard he tried to open them. But it was Dean. His brother. And even in this half aware state, afraid, with the taste of bitter panic on his tongue he still trusted Dean. Maybe even more than any other time.
He groaned, turning his head towards the source of sound, trying to cling to the little dregs of consciousness floating around in his mind.
Something small and dry, bitter, was pressed to his lips. He smelled his brother, it were his fingers pressing something into his mouth so he parted his lips.
“That’s it, Sammy. I need you to swallow the pills, okay?”
The harsh bitterness exploded on his tongue and he tried to spit the pills out, acting on instinct.
“No, Sam. Don’t. You need to rest. Swallow them, okay?” Dean’s voice was strangely quivery and unsteady but Sam was too out of it to notice.
The smell of cheep booze got even stronger in the air.
Something cool and smooth was pressed to his lips. A glass. Still more than half asleep he gulped down some of the water, washing down the pills.
He didn’t know what they were, nor did he care. It was his brother that gave them to him so it was okay to swallow.
“Okay, okay. That’s good, Sammy. Now go back to sleep. You need rest.”
Sam groaned something in response but was already asleep by the time the sound completely left his mouth.
TBC
Ok. I know I digressed, but you just have to suffer it for now. Marakaj is another of my original characters and he is old. I created him first in one of my original stories, oh, almost eight years ago. Jeez. I wasn’t aware it was so long already!
He will reoccur from time to time, but the boys will be the main focus. Don’t worry!
And, uhm, het sex ahead. Because John needs to get laid some more.
Title: Weapon of Choice
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: xantissa
Summary: A case turning out to be a set up. Sam taken away from him. An enemy he can’t identify. Father that struggles to understand. Dean, alone, fighting to save his brother from power no one can really understand.
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Warnings: incest, slash, demon possession, violence.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to WB. I do it just for fun, no profit being made from my writing.
Spoilers: Mild for Asylum, Nightmare tiny ones for probably most of the first season.
Thanks for beta to
lifesscarChapter 17
“Dad?” Dean asked quietly. His father was sitting slumped over the wide kitchen table. He looked old. Tired. His hair was mussed, the beard giving him an even more haggard look.
John poured himself another shot of whiskey and swallowed the burning liquid in one go. He didn’t move towards Dean. Didn’t turn. Didn’t make any move that would mean he heard Dean.
Dean watched his father not acknowledge him and felt something heavy and bitter gather in his chest. Disappointment. Fear. Dean’s greatest nightmare was not living up to his father’s expectations. And recently, all he seemed to do, every choice he makes is one more disappointment. One more failure.
He run his fingers over the smooth surface of the doorframe, seeking something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded. He pressed his forehead against it and closed his eyes. He wanted so desperately to explain, but how could he if even he had no idea what was going on? He felt so damn lost, confused.
He watched his father’s big figure with a longing he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy. He wanted his dad to hold him and tell him that it’s okay, that everything would be okay. But John didn’t. And his words wouldn’t make things okay either. But the foolishness of his desire didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Dad...” He whispered, forehead pressed so hard against the doorframe he could feel grinding against his skull.
For a long time no one said anything The harsh, a little desperate breathing was the only sound in the room.
“I have been hunting the supernatural for most of my life.” John said slowly, carefully, an odd, painful note in his voice. “And now both my sons have become something I can’t understand. Something...” John broke off, but it was too late. Dean already heard the unspoken thing.
‘not normal’
‘supernatural’
John stood up, slowly and quietly. Never once looking at Dean.
“I need to go. Think things through. Make sure to give your brother two of the pills I brought.” John left the more than half full bottle on the table and pulled the coat over his shoulders. “I’ll be back later.”
He brushed by Dean and left the apartment as fast as he could.
Dean pressed his face against the cold wall again, trying to stop the pleas that almost escaped his lips. He begged too much already.
* * *
Sarah looked up from the book she was pretending to be reading for the last few hours. In truth she was quietly freaking out. In all the times she lived so far, she never once had children. She was sure of it. She always assumed it was the effect of her powers. All she could do was take life, life energy. So it only made sense she was not allowed to create life herself.
Yet here she was, supposedly pregnant. The energy inside her was so very faint, so tiny she really wasn’t sure if she wasn’t imagining it. But the demon came to her. And he wouldn’t have bothered if there wasn’t something for him in this visit. She wondered about the child. Was it human? Was it a hybrid of some kind? Would it have a free will, a choice that she had? Or did the demons learn their mistake? They thought it would be funny to give a power of destruction to a human child and then watch as God’s beloved humans, the ones he gave free will to, used that freedom to destroy themselves.
It didn’t end quite like they planned. And both sides paid the price.
Now they came again. She got a visit from a demon; it wouldn’t be long before the other side came, too. Someone once told her that those who fear darkness, have never seen what light can do. Truer words were never spoken again.
Sarah wondered if it was John’s fault somehow. She said she used pills. And that was true. She did. For years now. And here she was. Fucking pregnant and things were becoming a mess pretty damn quickly again. The man she was slowly falling in love with was going to leave her in a few days and probably never look back, the peace she worked for would get ripped away when different sides of the same war would come after her child, should she decide to keep it.
Sarah was also aware of the familiar presence somewhere near her apartment building. In a way John did seem the stalker type. It kind of got into his habit to hide in the shadows. She wondered if he realized how odd that was. But as long as she could sense him, it was okay. She wondered what might have happened to bring him back so soon. He just left her place, saying that Sam hurt himself. Again. And that he needed to get some serious drugs to keep him calm while his body healed.
Now, a few hours later he was back again when she would expect him to stay by his son’s side. Yet here he was, hovering in the shadows. Sarah figured he would come to her when he was good and ready and coming out to him would not be a good idea. She wasn’t too calm or feeling too generous at the moment either so maybe it was better this way.
When the knock finally came, she pushed the cat from her lap and stood up. She had a strange feeling of deja-vu walking the length of he cluttered corridor. She knew who was behind those doors. It was the middle of the night again and it’s been raining for hours.
When she opened the door, she found John leaning on the doorframe with hands spread wide. His coat was heavy with water and hair sticking out in wet tufts. His eyes were dark, tired and haunted. His beard hid most of his face, but his eyes were enough. Whatever had happened had hurt him. She was surprised by the surge of protective feelings towards him. But not only. She also felt pure feminine attraction as she watched him gather his quite large frame and enter her home.
He smelled like rain, cigarettes, whisky and man. He didn’t say a word. Just raised one of his cold hands, the fingers rough, small scars sprinkled all over and touched her face. She shivered at the trace of cold wetness. Over her cheek down over her neck.
They were both still and silent for the longest moment. His finger trailed a wet path along her skin, but Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from his eyes. Dark and hooded, pain written clearly across his face. Something happened. Something that shook him to the core.
“John.” It was barely a breath, an exhale of warm breath more than a word but it enough to break the spell of stillness.
He was strong and fierce and all she could do was surrender as John pushed her into the wall and lifted her up. Even through the layers of damp clothing she could feel his muscles working. She was definitely not light. But it didn’t seem to matter at all to him.
John pressed his lips to her neck and bit down. Hard, bruising the delicate skin there. Sarah whimpered and tilted her head back, showing even more of the vulnerable skin, inviting him in.
There were no words, almost no foreplay, just his hands reaching to the stretched waistband of her sweats and pushed. She hissed when his cold, damp skin connected with her ass. He scratched his blunt fingernail over the delicate skin and mouthed on her neck some more, spreading saliva and heat all over her skin.
Sarah barely even noticed her own fingers curling into claws on his shoulders, long nails digging into his flesh even through the clothes. John hissed and let her go, pushing the sweats even more down, past the swell of her hips, until they fell to the floor.
Like a pair of drunks they stumbled over each other, pulling at clothes and cursing, desperately trying to reach naked skin. He bit down on her naked shoulder, she scratched his back until she felt damp wetness under her fingertips. The pain seemed to liberate something in John. He only arched and pulled her closer, his body heating up. His muscles, powerful and beautiful, worked under the tanned skin as he used his strength to push her where he wanted her.
They were both naked and he hasn’t even kissed her once. John crowded her, making her back away. His masculinity was overpowering to her, and now when he was naked it only amplified. His chest, very lightly furred, flexed and twitched as he grabbed her when she lost her footing, his neck a strong column of flesh that she couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on. She felt saltines of skin and sweat under her tongue and worried with her teeth until she was sure there would be a huge bruise come tomorrow.
She was wet already, her belly clenching with anticipation. This was gong to be fast and rough, much more than any time before with John.
They reached the dark bedroom. Her bed was unmade. She didn’t have time to do it today and she was quite messy anyway. She expected being pushed towards the bed so she yelped in surprise when he pushed her against the wall. He crowded close, his whole body pressing at her. His hard, hot chest smashing into her breasts he had such fixation on before, his muscled thighs forcing their way between hers, pushing her off balance.
Sarah grabbed John’s arms, trying to keep herself from falling. She whimpered again, as his big, callused palms closed over her buttocks and pulled up. Instinctively she closed her legs around him. Before she even had the time to get used to the change in position she heard the round of foil being crunched under his feet and then his cock was invading her. Big and hard, John pushed inside ruthlessly. Too fast for her. She felt all the air leave her lungs and dugs her nails even deeper into his skin. John cursed and the pain seemed to just spur him on. He shifted and she groaned as his cock pushed a little bit deeper and then started moving. His muscles worked, ass and back working to keep her off the ground and drive him inside.
Jesus, it was too much. It was too much and not enough. It hurt but in a good way. It made her sweat and beg; she didn’t even know for what.
One of his hands left her already bruised hip and snaked between then. She shivered as she felt him tracing the place where his cock disappeared into her. John pressed his lips against hers, pressing his tongue inside, forcing her to just hold on, to surrender in a way she never thought she would be capable of. It was more of a conquer than a kiss, his tongue staking claim over her and his heavy, hot dick pounding inside her like there was no tomorrow. It was strangely erotic, arousing to be used that way. As an outlet to his emotions, his lust.
She tightened her legs even more, drawing him closer, suddenly in as much of hurry as him.
His fingers moved, hard and rough and found her clit. He pressed his thumb against the slippery flesh and started rubbing. Hard and fast. Too hard. Too fast.
She broke the kiss and arched back. Too much, too much and she was coming. Her muscles clamping down on his cock. John didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. He kept fucking her against the wall, his cock sliding easily over the abundance of juices and his hands still rubbing her almost cruelly, forcing more and more shudders out of him.
“Stop, stop.” She panted unable to take any more. “Please, John.” She begged, not really sure what she wanted, not even recognizing the breathy voice that came out of her throat.
He kissed her again, hard lips, teeth mashing and then let her go. She slid bonelessly down the wall a few inches until John grabbed her again. Slowly he withdrew from her, his cock still burgeoning and hard wrapped in a condom she had no idea when he put on. Sarah considered telling him not to bother with protection but it would be kind of a dead give away. He used condoms ever since that first time. It was raining then, too.
“The bed. Now.” He said, his voice all hoarse gravel and lust.
On wobbly feet she stumbled towards her bed, keeping an eye on John. He stripped the set of his clothing. His shirt that hung around one shoulder and the socks that he still had on. He looked almost menacing naked and dark, his body a perfectly shaped weapon, his cock hard and heavy between his legs, jutting out from the patch of dark, curly hair.
Without a single word, he approached the bed, gripped her hips and flipped her on her stomach. No questions. No apologies. And damn, but that was making her hot again. She clenched her stomach muscles as she felt him grab her knees roughly and spread them. Sarah pressed her face into the cool pillow, her cheeks burning.
A long, drawn out moan left both their throats as he entered her again, from behind. She was a little sore already, but still more than slick enough and her muscles kind of pulsed from the last orgasm.
John pressed into her with his whole body, covering her back. His hands sneaked under her to close over her breasts that he did have a fetish on. And his hips snapped forwards. He was obviously not going to be done any time soon.
* * *
Dean grabbed the more than half full bottle of cheap whiskey and unscrewed the cap. Jesus. How bad were things going to get before they finally started getting better? He couldn’t erase the look of shock and disappointment in John’s eyes. Scrunching his eyes tightly closed, he brought the bottle to his lips and tilted, forcing himself to gulp the fiery liquid without even a break for breath. His throat burned so bad he could almost explain the wetness on his cheeks and his lungs screamed for air but he kept going. Kept swallowing the alcohol in huge, desperate gulps until he could see black spots in front of his eyes.
His chest tried vainly to expand, whisky choking but he kept swallowing. His ribs screamed from the sudden jerk of his muscles fighting for survival and Dean spluttered, the need for air winning. Whisky sloshed in the bottle, over his chin and burned his eyes, or that was what he told himself.
He coughed, and it sent more pain up his chest sending him to his knees, nauseous with pain and something else, he just didn’t want to name. It was too much, too fucking much. He just couldn’t deal with Sam out of his mind with grief, with the guilt that threatened to strangle him, the weight on his shoulders. The responsibility that he needed to make it all better somehow. And he can’t. He is just a fucking failure, keeps destroying everything he touches. He wished he never came back for Sam, that he left him in Stanford to lead his dream life with his beautiful girl.
Girl that died and started haunting Dean in his dreams and in reality.
He slid to his knees and looked at the barely two inches of alcohol left in the bottle. He raised it to his lips and quickly drank down the rest of the amber liquid. He felt nauseous and hot, whisky hitting him much stronger than usual. He threw the bottle away with a slurred curse. It wasn’t fucking fair. It was way too damn much for him to endure alone. As he watched the bottle shatter, the glass spilling everywhere his vision turned black and he toppled forward, passing out on the kitchen floor.
* * *
When Dean opened his eyes he was lying on a patch of damp grass.
“What the fuck...” He started, pushing himself off the damp ground.
The second thing that set off his alarm bells was the lack of pain. His ribs didn’t scream bloody murder at him. He looked up and cursed to high heaven.
The warehouse. The fucking, god damned, son of a bitch warehouse where Sam got possessed.
He was dreaming again.
Dean got up and brushed most of the dirt from his jeans. He just knew that the moment he looked around he would see her. And damn, but he had had enough to deal with today. He did not need Jessica. Well at least the up side was that he didn’t start the dream with fucking her. Because that? Was seriously fucking with his mind.
This time she was sitting on the bench. She was dressed in a white, lacy dress that flowed around her thin, beautiful body in soft waves. Her hair was curling over her shoulders and framing that almost innocent face in strands of gold as she tilted her face up, to the sun. She looked eerily calm. Different than before. Easier somehow.
Dean sighed and sat down on the bench beside her. He couldn’t smell her, couldn’t feel the heat of her body. And it made it easier somehow. That she wasn’t flesh and bone for him any more. But he already knew, still remembered the taste of her skin under his tongue. The sounds she made when he entered her. It was so fucked up he had no idea where to even start.
“I really, really am not in the mood for nightmares right now. Can we please not do this today? Can I have a rain check, please?”
Jess turned her face towards him. Her blue eyes locked with his. She looked at him, really looked and...
Dean stood up suddenly, scanning the familiar – unfamiliar surroundings.
“Something’s different.” He murmured to himself. Because Jess before, in those nightmares he had earlier, was just an echo of the woman he saw very briefly.
“Yes. It is.” She answered him. And that alone was a dead giveaway. She never once responded to him before. Not that clearly anyway.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are you here?”
Jess looked at her, her blue eyes almost luminescent.
“I’m here because you bring me here.”
Dean stared at her. No. Just fucking no. He couldn’t deal with anything more right now. He has had enough. Dean pressed his hands to his ears and scrunched his eyes closed.
“No!” He yelled as loud as he could, denying everything he saw and felt. He screamed so long and so hard he woke himself up. Lying in an undignified lump on the kitchen floor, his ribs aching so badly he thought he was going to throw up.
* * *
Sarah groaned waking up, a minute before strong knocking to the door roused John also.
“’S okay.” She murmured, her voice low and hoarse. “I know who it is.” She stumbled out of bed, no grace whatsoever and hunted for something to wear. Her hair was messed up beyond belief sticking out in blonde tufts and her lips were still a bit swollen. There were small red marks along her neck and little scratch marks over her shoulders.
John blinked at her, but trusted her words and didn’t make a move to get up. He felt content to just lay there and watch her. She wasn’t beautiful by any modern standards. She had quite a bit more weight on her than could be called only a few pounds. There were definitely more than a few. But there was something inherently female about her. Her long, incredibly soft and thick hair, her lips and long, strong column of her throat spoke to the most primal instincts inside him. She was also a definite alpha female. She had no problems standing up to him. She barely even noticed when he opposed to be truthful. There was strength, a natural ability to lead people in her. Not charm but definitely charisma and strength. She was a rare breed nowadays.
He watched her as she huffed while dressing and then stumbled her way towards the door. He was already awake and going back to sleep was so out of the question. John sat up and rubbed his face with his palms. Sarah awakened some strange instincts inside him. He felt a little odd, ashamed even about the way he treated her the night before. He honestly couldn’t remember ever being this rough with a woman. But Sarah was almost his height, she weighed marginally less than him and was built strongly. She looked like she could take whatever he dished out. And somewhere along the way he forgot what was drummed into him throughout his childhood. That one should always be careful around a woman, not swear and not hurt her. And yet here he was, biting and scratching at her like a man possessed. And she didn’t even try to stop him. She just took it and gave back as good as she got. He could feel the deep, now scabbed scratches on his back and bite marks all over his chest.
He came to her in pain, and she let him work it out. He felt calmer, more happy in a way. A weight was lifted from his shoulders, a feeling that everything would work out now filling him. It always surprised him how heavily emotions were connected to a purely physical state. Sex, apparently, did wonders for his mental state. A sudden thought occurred to him then. That it wasn’t just sex. Not any more. Even though it was rough and fast, and harsh it was so much more fulfilling than any of his one night stands after Mary. He respected Sarah, and genuinely liked her. And wanted her. That was so much more than he allowed himself to have for over twenty years now. And it made him feel guilty. How could he move on with his life, find somebody else when Mary was dead and her killer still at large?
He dressed to the low murmur of voices. John paused and crept as silently as he could towards the kitchen where the voices were coming from. One was obviously Sarah’s. Still sleep roughened and lazy. That woman took forever to wake up properly. The other one was male. But John had never heard a voice like that. It was low, rich like chocolate and seductive. The timbre odd and captivating.
“Marakaj, you know perfectly well that I’m neutral. I always have been. I won’t work for your family, nor any other.”
There was a hum of water, she was probably going to make coffee.
“Am I asking you for anything?” The man was obviously amused and relaxed.
“There is not a single altruistic cell in your body. You come here, bringing gifts? You definitely want something back.”
“I’m hurt.” The man murmured, his voice all sex and gravel. “Have I ever been anything less than friendly towards you?”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Why do you offer me that information? You know me. I will take it and give nothing back. It’s you who wants to give it to me, not me who asked. Therefore there’s no need for me to be grateful.”
The man laughed.
“Your honesty was always so refreshing. Anyway, you shouldn’t be surprised. You are the most valuable commodity these days. Everybody watches you. Imagine the outcry it caused when different families in LA learned that you got involved with a hunter, no less. People got nervous. Maybe even trigger happy a bit. I offered to come and scout the area a bit. After all, you hooking up with a hunter was like an open invitation to war.”
“I am and always was neutral. John doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
A low chuckle from the man sent strange shivers up John’s spine.
“Now. We both know that’s not exactly true. You weren’t always neutral.” There was a shared secret in his voice and it made John feel... jealous.
“There was a witness, Sarah.”
Sarah sighed.
“I keep forgetting. Even for your kind, it’s a long time to live.”
John rounded the corner and finally stood face to face with the owner of the most captivating voice that he ever heard.
The man was tall, probably as tall as Sam. His face was smooth and almost perfect. Long nose, sharp cheekbones, full lips. His hair was black, deep dark that contrasted with the paleness of his face sharply. It was straight and fell in a soft, shiny cascade down to his waist. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt, two top buttons undone.
His eyes had the most incredible color John remembered seeing. Dark blue, navy blue and the color was so sharp and clear it had to be contact lenses. It wasn’t natural. His clothes, although casual, were obviously expensive. The shirt clung to his body, showing strong muscles and long limbs off with ease that only came with tailored clothes. He had an expensive watch on his arm and a concealed blade in his right boot. He looked about thirty, but his face was so smooth and perfect, ageless, that he could have been fifty and John wouldn’t know.
He tensed at the concealed weapon but Sarah seemed relaxed around him, familiar, so he took his cues from her.
“And what kind would that be?” John asked a little suspicious.
Sarah poured water into the waiting cups. Two teas and one coffee. So this man shared her fancy for tea.
“A vampire.” Marakaj answered, very obviously pleased by the reaction John wasn’t quite able to hide.
John stared at the sharp sunlight filtering through the kitchen window and resting on Marakaj’s exposed hand. The man leaned over the counter, his back to the windows and didn’t seem bothered by the sunlight. Yes, John knew vampires didn’t burn in sunlight but it hurt them, like a bad allergy, so they avoided it. This one didn’t, though.
“Marakaj, meet John Winchester. A hunter. John. This is Marakaj. The head of one of the biggest families in the north-west US. My house is a neutral place so please, be civil to each other.”
John stared. He felt... he had no idea how he felt.
“Families?” He asked, not sure he heard right.
Marakaj smiled, obviously pleased with himself and the world in general. John resisted the urge to punch him.
“Yes. Hundreds and hundreds of my people all over this wonderful country.”
It was... disturbing was mildly put. This Marakaj looked and behaved like nothing John expected from a vampire.
“I have hunted your kind before.” He said, trying to wipe that self satisfied smirk off that pale, beautiful face.
Marakaj took the offered cup and sipped some of the rich smelling tea.
“Correction. You hunted some primitive being that carried a vague resemblance to my kind. So don’t think you can do a damn thing to me. After all you are just a fragile human.” There was a threat underlying the amusement.
“Boys.” Sarah warned them both softly. “My home, my rules.” She put the cup down. “Marakaj stays for breakfast. He has some info you might find important, John.”
She turned back to the cupboards, reaching for the bread to make some sandwiches.
Shit, John thought. He was obviously going to have breakfast with a vampire. His life just kept getting better and better. But there was nothing he could do. Sarah once showed him what she could do. And he had no doubts he would make them both pay if they even thought of disturbing her home.
The long haired man sprawled himself decadently over the nearest chair, his air falling in a soft wave over his shoulders, framing a face that was just too pretty. It disturbed John, that he noticed it. That he was more than aware of how damn attractive this man was. His face might be ethereal, almost feminine but there was nothing feminine in the way his body was built. Huge palms cradled the mug that looked positively tiny in those long fingers. His chest, well defined and wide, filled the tailored shirt perfectly. The strong but not too big pectorals flexed with each lazy move. His long, strong legs encased in denim, were spread out in front of him with a kind of lazy, cocky sensuality. He was perfectly aware of how attractive he was.
John felt an uncomfortable flush under his whiskers and quickly took a seat behind the breakfast table.
The corner of Marakaj’s lips lifted in an amused smirk. He knew damn well just what effect he had on John.
“Glamour.” John said suddenly, his mind finally making the connection. “You are using a glamour.” Because no one, no one could be this attractive. Especially when John had never once been attracted to a man in his life.
This time there was a spark of respect in those eerie, navy blue eyes.
“Something like that. I’m impressed that you caught up so quickly. Most people never do.” His voice was low, rich, so damn intoxicating.
Knowing that it was magic, a spell that made him look so good, did nothing to lessen the allure. He cast a glance at Sarah, still making sandwiches as if everything was peachy. As if there wasn’t a vampire sitting behind her kitchen table.
“Don’t look at me. Magic, spells, it doesn’t work on me. Never did.” She said calmly, casually. Too casually. There was something underlying her words...
Amusement.
“You find it funny, don’t you?” He accused.
Sarah let go of a tiny smile that had been tugging at her lips for quite a while.
“Maybe a little. But John,” She almost whined, “you are just such a macho man and seeing you falling for Marakaj, even if a little bit, it’s just... priceless.” She couldn’t stop the giggle.
“I’m not falling for anybody!” He denied vehemently even though there was that strange thought in the back of his mind, the what if... John shook his head.
“Stop it!” He barked, more embarrassed than angry.
“I can’t. Stop fighting the attraction, accept it and the impact will lessen considerably.” Marakaj advised, still so insufferably amused with himself and situation.
“You can relax, John. Marakaj is here to help. I promise.” Sarah interjected setting a plate filled with sandwiches on the table between them.
“How can you be so sure?” John challenged her, still uneasy with his feelings and her amusement.
Her eyes darkened, the amusement evaporating and John instantly regretted snapping at her.
“Because if he helps you now, I will be more inclined to help when he comes asking for a favor. And he will. Nothing is ever free with Marakaj.”
John looked up at the vampire. Marakaj was chewing and watching Sarah with a strangely thoughtful expression. There was a kind of emotion in his eyes now, that wasn’t there before. In that moment John realized that the vampire wanted Sarah. John felt a dark kind of amusement, possessiveness and pure pride that he had something the vampire wanted. So what if the vampire was handsome as all hell, obviously rich and sophisticated. Sarah still chose John, a graying hunter with two grown children and a shitload of problems.
John reached out to Sarah and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, relishing the fact that she let him, didn’t flinch at his touch.
She looked up at him, eyes spilling amber all over the sun filled kitchen and smiled. Soft, intimate, familiar, before turning her attention back to her breakfast.
John looked at the vampire again and was pleased to see him watching John. He wasn’t so amused any more.
“So, what do you know?”
Marakaj swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and leaned back, exposing the strong lines of his throat.
“The body of Nathaniel Belmonde has disappeared after your son contacted Sarah. The police department that worked the murders your son committed has suffered a severe fire last night. There is no more evidence connecting Samuel Winchester to anything. Someone went to great lengths to sweep it under the rug.”
John swallowed.
“Belmonde wasn’t the only one involved.” He whispered, feeling a sharp sense of fear spear him. Sam and Dean were alone now.
“Apparently.”
“Do you know who it is?” John asked, all previous hostility gone.
Marakaj shook his head.
“Whoever that is hides pretty well. If I can’t find him, it means he has means that aren’t available to me. And there isn’t much that I can’t use. Either way, you have to take you children and leave the city. It’s not safe for you here. All of you.”
John looked at Sarah. Her head was bent and she was staring at her cup of tea. She knew he was going to leave. He never promised anything else. But still he felt guilty. Because he had a feeling he got more out of this relationship than she. He got help, a chance to save his son, a lover. She? Not nearly as much.
“That’s not so easy. Sam is in no condition to travel.” John said slowly, already planning. No matter what it might look like, he had to keep his boys safe. Do what he failed to do so far.
Marakaj looked at Sarah, obviously considering something.
“I have a place, not far from LA that I could let you use. It’s well protected against both humans and supernatural beings. And it’s fairly secluded.”
“I would have to think about it.” John said raising from the table. The fact that there might be someone else after Sam was turning his blood cold. He needed to get his boys away from this city as fast as possible.
“Well, I think it’s time for me to go.” Marakaj rose from the table, all grace and sensuality.
Meow.
All three of them looked down to see T sitting on the floor in front of Marakaj and gazing at him with adoring eyes. It was kind of disgusting how sweetly the cat behaved in front of the vampire.
T purred and Marakaj smiled, bending down to pick her up. Although it was a rather large cat, it looked tiny in his arm. He stroked T and murmured adornments at her and she purred for all she was worth.
Sarah stared at them with a wry smile on her lips.
“You know, she would gladly have your kittens if she could, she adores you so much. I can’t honestly remember the last time when she was so nice or clingy to me.”
Marakaj snorted.
“She just has an exquisite taste. She is one very smart and one very beautiful lady, aren’t you T?” He all but purred at the cat. The cat purred back closing her eyes in pleasure.
Sarah got up. “I’ll show you to the door.” She shot John a look that clearly meant he was not to follow and left the kitchen. Marakaj shot him a look also, but this one John couldn’t decipher.
“If you decide to use my cabin, just tell Sarah. She knows how to contact me.” Still carrying the cat, Marakaj left the kitchen after Sarah.
* * *
Marakaj let the cat jump down and looked at Sarah holding the door open.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, his brow furrowing.
“Of course. Why do you ask?” They had strange relationship. Not quite a friendship, but much more than anything else. In a way, Marakaj seemed to have a weakness for her. Yes, always wanted something for his help. But the price was never high and always known from the start.
“You smell differently. Not sick but...” He shook his head. “You should go the doctor though and get yourself checked out.” There was honest concern in his voice.
Sarah smiled but said nothing. She knew what he smelled and was quite baffled that he could sense she was pregnant so early.
“How are things going on with Nara?” She tried to change the topic.
He rolled his eyes, his face expressive and almost open.
“Still fucking in love with that damn human.” He growled with contempt.
“I’m sorry. I really am.” And she was. Nara was his wife, his partner for most of his life. He trained her, molded her into the woman she was now, taught to be his partner, his right hand and she left him. For a human no less. He played it cool, but it must have hurt him. He never said that he loved her, but if he didn’t she would already be dead for her betrayal, not left alone. Unhurt.
“Don’t be. She’s just a woman. I can have dozens like her.”
She watched him shrug on his black, expensive, tailored jacket and thought that yes, he might have dozens but not the one he wants. Somehow Marakaj always ended up alone.
“Don’t pity me, Sarah.” He said catching her thoughtful gaze. “I’m having way too much fun in this life to deserve pity. Call me when you lover boy decides something.”
She snorted at John being called her lover boy. Hell, calling him a boy was hilarious in itself. She closed the door and went back in search of John. The cat ran by her side.
“Traitor.” She murmured at the cat.
The feline pretended not to hear a thing.
She found John in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes. He looked so out of place standing behind the sink and washing plates.
“What?” He asked, sensing her staring.
“Nothing. It’s just that you doing dishes is such an... odd sight.”
John laughed. Low and easy.
“I raised two sons. Believe me, I spent more time washing plates and pans than I ever wanted to.”
Sarah looked at him and although she knew he was a father, couldn’t really imagine him as one. He was a warrior, a hunter deep down to the bone. Trying to picture him changing diapers or teaching his sons the alphabet was... difficult. She knew it was unfair of her, to deny that part of him, but she still knew him very little. And obviously she wouldn’t have a chance to get to know him better.
She thought about the new life inside her. But as she watched him dry the cleaned dishes and then stretch out to put them into the cupboards, she noticed the gun tucked in the back of his pants. Even here, inside her home he was armed and ready to fight, watching out for threats, planning and assessing. Sarah knew then, that she wouldn’t tell him. John didn’t need nor want this kind of complication. He had his revenge. The only mistress he desired.
“So...” John started, deceptively casual. “How did you get to know a vampire? And how old is he, anyway.”
She grabbed an apple and sat on the chair, watching him clean and act so very casually.
“It’s a long story. Not really very interesting, but long.” She bit down into the apple. “He found me. Basically, Marakaj was always around.”
John looked back at her, there was an odd note in her voice.
“Always? As in ten, fifteen years? Since you were a child?”
Sarah licked her lips and looked at John from beneath her lashes.
“As in ever since I lived for the first time. I have known him in all the lifetimes I had.”
John dropped his pretense at being casual and stared at her.
“You are shitting me.” He didn’t even notice he was swearing.
“No, I’m not. I think he is over two thousandth years old. He was always old.” She murmured.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because of his power, of the kind of magic he can use effortlessly. I can’t sense a limit to it. Basically magic is energy, harnessed and controlled, put into a shape given it by a spell. Marakaj is like an ocean. There is no end to his power. He is one of the very few creatures I probably wouldn’t be able to kill. So I would be very grateful if you didn’t try to come after him. He won’t attack you due to the association with me, but if you make the first move, all bets are off. I know you are intelligent and smart, trained in combat. But he was a general, a genius tactician for centuries. There is no fighting that kind of experience. Please don’t challenge him.”
John felt an odd pang of... something, at the knowledge that she was, indeed, afraid for him.
“He is a vampire. He kills people...”
Sarah stopped him.
“No. He doesn’t. It’s too much trouble and besides his kind has accumulated vast financial resources over the centuries. He simply pays donors to offer him their blood. He takes some, but he doesn’t kill. No vampire needs to kill. It’s just that they don’t control or don’t want to control their instincts.”
“His kind?” John interjected completely lost.
Sarah cocked her head, baffled.
“So you don’t know? Vampires, like humans, have different races. They differ from each other. Marakaj is a Nosferatu. They are mostly magical.”
“The vampires I met were instinctual, bloody creatures that killed more for joy than food. I never saw anything that would confirm your words. Besides I thought that vampires were extinct anyway.”
“Most of them are.” Sarah agreed. “There was a huge war between the families. By then they were lacking pure blooded leaders like Marakaj so the alliances disintegrated. The Nosferatu family won. Marakaj slaughtered most of their population before he accepted a peace treaty. He knew what he was doing. He went for the oldest, most powerful and knowledgeable vampires in other families, thus setting them back severely. That’s how the Grhu-ha had started roaming free.”
“What is a Grhu-ha?” Jesus. John had no idea about it.
“They are the outcasts. The ones that regressed into instincts and animal like behaviors. Probably what you met before.”
John scrubbed his face with his palms.
Jesus Christ.
“And you are telling me that they all are so law abiding and good hearted that they don’t kill humans?”
Sarah shook her head and there was a little pity in her eyes.
“No. of course not. But they are severely outnumbered by humans and they don’t want to draw attention to themselves. Because when push came to shove, humans would win. So they don’t kill to avoid drawing attention to themselves. And in this age and place it’s more than easy to buy donors than kidnap or maim them.”
John paced a little.
“This all, what you are talking about... it’s just too unreal.”
Sarah could feel her eyebrows disappear into her hairline.
“Unreal?” She repeated because she damn well couldn’t believe he used that word. “Remind me, because I forgot, just what do you do on a daily basis?”
John tilted his head in acknowledgment and smiled a little ruefully.
Sarah watched him pace and felt they couldn’t avoid the issue any longer.
“You should accept Marakaj’s offer.”
John froze for a second, then resumed his pacing.
“I know.” He said, voice low and hoarse, without looking at her. “But I have never run from anything in my life.”
She was silent for a long moment, watching as his strong, compact body moved gracefully. He was so very male, simply exuded that primal aura of strength and confidence. Add the dark and brooding hero allure to it you got a quite heady mix. Letting him go without fight or tears would be one of the hardest things she ever did. But John didn’t deserve to feel guilty.
“Sam and Dean need time to heal and bond. If they don‘t, all this would be in vain.”
John stopped in front of the window and looked down onto the street.
“That’s the only reason I am agreeing to this. I obviously can’t protect Sam, and he is in no shape to take care of himself, not mentioning actually protecting himself.”
She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to go to him and hug him. But she couldn’t trust herself to let go if she did.
“I’ll go call Marakaj. Set things in motion.”
* * *
He was tired and fuzzy, his brain still caught up in the terror of the nightmare. Somebody was shaking him, trying to wake him up. His body tensed, heart quickening, the fear finding a new focus.
The air smelled of alcohol and blood.
“Sam. Sammy. It’s me. Wake up, man.”
Dean.
Sam didn’t want to wake up, his brain was so fuzzy, his eyes just stayed closed no matter how hard he tried to open them. But it was Dean. His brother. And even in this half aware state, afraid, with the taste of bitter panic on his tongue he still trusted Dean. Maybe even more than any other time.
He groaned, turning his head towards the source of sound, trying to cling to the little dregs of consciousness floating around in his mind.
Something small and dry, bitter, was pressed to his lips. He smelled his brother, it were his fingers pressing something into his mouth so he parted his lips.
“That’s it, Sammy. I need you to swallow the pills, okay?”
The harsh bitterness exploded on his tongue and he tried to spit the pills out, acting on instinct.
“No, Sam. Don’t. You need to rest. Swallow them, okay?” Dean’s voice was strangely quivery and unsteady but Sam was too out of it to notice.
The smell of cheep booze got even stronger in the air.
Something cool and smooth was pressed to his lips. A glass. Still more than half asleep he gulped down some of the water, washing down the pills.
He didn’t know what they were, nor did he care. It was his brother that gave them to him so it was okay to swallow.
“Okay, okay. That’s good, Sammy. Now go back to sleep. You need rest.”
Sam groaned something in response but was already asleep by the time the sound completely left his mouth.
TBC
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-11 12:32 am (UTC)I'm fan of your stories since lotr, I followed you through many fandoms, and you are actually the one who introducted me to Supernatural ... You'll never know how grateful I am !
So ... first comment ever...
I love this story so much ... and two chapters the same day ?? Yay ! It's not taking the way I though it would, but I'm gladly following you along in this !
Nice twist with the licking thing .. wonder from where that come from.
I really like your original characters, especially T ;o) The last chapter was really nice, but I just didn't have my Sam/Dean fix ... hey, I'm a junky ...
Thanks for writing !
thanks!
Date: 2006-12-14 11:56 am (UTC)That's very, very good :)
Really? And where did you thought it would go? just out of curiosity.
ahh the licking. Well I always had a thing for vampires. Every original story I ever wrote was always dealing with vampires in some way.
I am also a terrible fan of cats. I always had one and the more wicked it was the more I adored it. Love is blind apparently.
I know that tehre wasn't much sex lately BUT there will be some sexy scenes in the next chapter. No jumping to bed and fucking their brains out sexy but always something.
and the comment was wonderful. Sorry it took me so long to respond. I'm mostly sleeping these days (winter depression or other s** like it) so I didn't do much of anything. I do hope you will stick around for more. I will start wrapping the story up soon. Only about 10 more chapters to go hehehe
no subject
Date: 2006-12-17 01:30 am (UTC)Quick question
Date: 2006-12-26 09:19 pm (UTC)Do you know which chapter this is in?
It's one of my favorite visuals, big, dangerous Sammy, nuzzling Dean.
Re: Quick question
Date: 2006-12-26 09:32 pm (UTC)it's chapter 10.
Now that you mentioned it I reread it too. Have fun.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-01 12:20 am (UTC)I absolutely love 'posessed by something' Sammy and the way he still bends to Dean. The way you have shown the love between them -- the depth and strength of that love -- just wrenches my little heart. I hope the muses are good to you and I look forward to reading more.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-02 05:35 am (UTC)OMG, get outta my head! I have a snotty snarky stinker of a cat who I just adore to death, he's my precioussss. LOL
Anyhoo, glad I caught up with this (still trying to figure out how I missed the last couple updates *scratches head*). I can't wait to see how Dean and Sam work out their shite when Sam finally wakes up!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-05 08:09 pm (UTC)So they have an offer from a vampire for a place to stay. Johnis really going to have to revise his thinking on what is evil and needs killing and what is supernatural but still good.
Poor Sam and Dean are just so messed up and Johnisn't helping as much as they need.
Looking forward to an update soon.