linda92595 (linda92595) wrote,
linda92595
linda92595

The Plague Pt 5A FRAO Sam/Dean, John/Bobby

 

The Plague Pt 5

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) ***Extra Warning: Angst and Sammy battering in this part *** and of course ensuing hurt/comfort sex.

 

Summary:  In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance.  In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional “breeders” must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

 

My thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the great beta on the story.

 

 

A week later Sam and Dean were on the highway to Kansas City, actually they were sitting in traffic on the highway to Kansas City, but Dean supposed that was beside the point.  The traffic on the 335 Freeway was at a standstill. He kept tapping his fingers against the steering wheel of the Impala in a sharp staccato beat that had nothing to do with the classic rock pouring out of the speakers. He and Sam were stuck in the stifling heat, behind a mass of glittering glass and metal. Even with the windows rolled all the way down sweat was still creeping down Dean's spine, making his shirt cling to his back.

 

Sam was collapsed against the seat looking every bit as miserable as Dean felt. Glancing out the window Sam motioned Dean to pull over. The older man looked in the rearview mirror and worked the car across two lanes of traffic before exiting onto the side street.

 

“Make a left turn and go under the freeway, I saw a cemetery back there,” Sam said waving Dean in the general direction of the grassy hills visible just beyond the cement and asphalt of the highway. Dean managed to get into the turn lane, and waited at the red-light.

 

Spring Hill Cemetery was large, the neatly kept grounds surrounded by a high wrought iron fence well trimmed hedges. The graves beyond the fence seemed to be divided into sections. The older graves, with their marble and granite markers toward the center section of the graveyard and the newer graves marked only with flat bronze plaques on the outer fringes. There were several recently dug graves in the new section and one grave in a small, separately fenced private family plot. 

 

Dean glanced at the newer interments.  “We can check the recent graves and see what dates they have on them.”

 

 

Sam nodded.

 

“The news reports stated that the drivers started seeing the apparition about two weeks ago. It’s only been the last few reports that have said that the drivers were hurt by the ghost though," he said as they got out of the car.

 

They spent the rest of the morning searching the grounds for the graves of teen-aged girls. After two hours they met at the mausoleum in the center of the cemetery new section. Sam dropped onto the low brick wall waiting for Dean to reach the spot where he was sitting. Dean leaned back shrugging.

 

“I got nothing. Every one of the recent burials are all older people, three of the five are male, and the two women are over sixty. It could be another cemetery.”

 

“Maybe,” Sam replied, “But this is close to the road where the sightings have been. It could be one of the older graves, maybe something has happened to bring the girl back now, even though she’s been dead awhile.”

 

“That’s going to make this thing a lot harder to track down. Looks like we need to make a trip to the newspaper, and speak to the reporter who is working the story.”

 

Nodding Sam pulled out a packet of clippings that he had brought with them.

 

“The Daily Herald is the paper with the most stories, the by-line is Jerry Harrison.”

 

“We’ll go pay Mr. Harrison a visit then.”

 

 

John pulled his truck into the parking lot of the Shawnee County Sheriff’s Sub-Station on Southwest 21st Street, just below the hotel they had checked into an hour earlier. John pawed through a box of fake ids and badges that he kept in the glove compartment of the truck. Bobby watched as John produced two US Marshal’s badges and clipped them onto the ids he had made for Bobby and himself.  

 

Bobby took his and hefted it in one hand, the weight and feel was too much like a real badge for it to be phony.

 

“How’d you get these, John?”

 

“You’d be surprised what you can buy if you know the right people.”

 

“I’m a little nervous about this. I haven’t worked in the field for years.”

 

“Just follow my lead. It’ll be okay. Bring that manila folder with you, okay.”

 

“Sure thing, baby.”

 

“And Bobby, don’t call me ‘baby’ in front of them. I don’t know what the Federal Marshal’s Office policy is on that, but I’m guessing it’s pretty much frowned on.”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure Marshal Dillon, sir.” Bobby snapped too, and saluted as much as he could sitting in the cab of the truck. John rolled his eyes.

 

John opened the office door, and walked to the booking desk. He flashed the badge at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the bullet-proof glass and motioned to the other man.

 

“Hi, I’m John Walton, and this is my partner Bobby Darrin. We’re here to talk to your watch commander about the missing transients’ case you’ve got working.”

 

John tried not to react when he heard Bobby snort, then cough to cover his laughter.

 

The woman’s eyes widened and John offered her a slow smile. She blushed prettily, and John felt Bobby lean against this side. She cast him a sideways look then frowned.

 

“If you’ll wait here, Marshal Walton. I’ll see if he’s available.”

 

“Walton, John-boy?” Bobby hissed under his breath, and John nodded. Bobby grinned.

 

Without turning John said, “I thought you’d appreciate that.”

 

"And Bobby Darrin? I thought she'd catch that one at least," Bobby said with a laugh. “So Dean comes by it honestly.”

 

Chuckling John shrugged.

 

“I guess so, I stopped letting him do ids for me after I spent a couple of months in some little red-neck town in South Georgia telling people I was named Leslie.”

 

“Ouch, that had to hurt.”

 

They quieted as the female deputy came back into the room. She nodded at them both.

 

"The COD can't meet with you now, but said I should let you have access to the file room, for as long as you need. Follow me please."

 

She opened a door to a room that contained an entire wall of filing cabinets and a large conference table with padded high-backed chairs.

 

 

"There are a couple of computers in here too. I wrote down a temporary log-on password for you.  Can I bring you some coffee, Marshals?"

 

Bobby shook his head and John smiled and said, "No ma'am but thank you, and thank the commander on duty for me, too."

 

"I'll just pull the relevant files for you. Please have a seat."

 

 

 

Sam was leaning against the side of the Impala straightening his tie in the side mirror while he waited for Dean to finish in the gas station restroom. He was dressed in the dark navy suit he wore for his FBI agent persona. Dean was changing clothes. He pushed the door open folding his leather jacket around his jeans and t-shirt.

 

Sam handed Dean his leather id folder and badge, and the older man tucked it into his suit pocket. The Daily Herald office was around the corner from the Chevron station and not too far from a mediocre hotel they had checked into as soon as they got off the freeway.

It was almost closing time and Sam had thought that was the best time to try and speak to the reporter who had written the stories.

 

A nice looking younger woman was seated at a desk in the front office, and both young men tried hard not to stare at her. A few younger women had survived the plague and the news reports suggested that they were infertile for some reason, and therefore immune to the disease. Sam had meant to do some research on that aspect of the plague but his personal life kept getting in the way. He was also keeping a close watch on the battle going on in Washington DC regarding the efforts of pass the Increased Population laws pending in congress.

 

Dean was standing in the doorway casting a worried look at his younger brother while he waited for Sam to catch up to him. He lowered his voice and whispered,

 

"You okay, Sammy?  I need you sharp on this thing."

 

"I'm all right, Dean. Don't worry about me; I just got a little distracted that's all."

 

"Yeah, well Sammy getting distracted on a hunt can get you or me dead."

 

"I'll keep up. Let's just do this thing, okay?" Sam snapped.

 

He grunted rubbing a hand across his belly. His period was almost finished, and the pain was much less than it had been but he noticed that when he got nervous or angry it returned. Dean glanced down, and took a deep breath. Sighing Sam followed his brother to the elevator, then leaned back against the wall. He glanced at the flashing lights as the floors slipped past. Sam was angry that he seemed to be having a much worse time adjusting than his Dad.

 

John was older, had totally ignored his female side, and therefore should have had more mental adjustments to make. And added to that he had technically been a virgin yet he had adapted to his relationship with Bobby with far more ease than Sam was adapting to sleeping with Dean. But truthfully Dad didn't have the whole incest thing to deal with, unless Bobby was related to them somehow, and Sam didn't think so.

 

What Sam couldn't understand was the ease with which John had accepted his arrangement with Dean. Something about that was deeply troubling to him. It was completely out of character for John. But Dad was pretty much entirely out of character right now, so Sam was having a hard time pinning down the reasons for his actions. Dean on the other hand seemed to be taking it all in stride, as usual. Of course, Dean was the king of going with the flow, so no big surprises there.

 

The elevator stopped and both young men stepped out. The Daily Herald offices were in the corner suite on the fifth floor. An elderly lady was sitting at the reception desk and she smiled at them.

 

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

 

With a smile Dean flashed the badge at her.

 

"Hi, I'm Agent Harper and this is Agent Matheson, we're here to speak to a Jerry Harrison? Is he available?"

 

The woman nodded briskly, and motioned to a door at the far end of the corridor.

 

"Mr. Harrison is in the newsroom. Right that way."

 

Sam followed his brother to the door, pausing as Dean introduced himself to the reporter who turned out to be an elderly man dressed in bright orange plaid golf pants and a white polo shirt. Dean glanced at the garish figure and shot Sam a look.

 

"Mr. Harrison, my partner and I just wanted to ask you some questions regarding several stories that recently appeared in the Herald that had your by-line. Stories about the young woman seen on Highway 335."

 

Harrison turned a baleful glare on the two younger men, and then snorted.

 

"Just why does the FBI have any interest in a throw away story like that?"

 

Dean smiled again.

 

"We're working on some kidnapping cases, and the victims were all young women. They were moved across states lines so the FBI has jurisdiction."

 

The older man paused but seemed placated.

 

"If I cooperate I want an exclusive interview with you and your partner if you break the case."

 

"Absolutely," Dean replied smoothly.

 

Sam offered Harrison a smile, and nodded. He didn't feel up to this, and just let Dean do his thing. Settling into a chair he watched as the older man pulled several file folders out of a cabinet and passed them to his brother.

 

"The girl seems to appear only to men who are traveling alone. The first two men who reported seeing her weren't harmed in any way; they said that they saw a girl standing beside the road, and both men picked her up. One was a pastor from a local church and he told police that the girl asked to be taken to a vacant house. He didn't want to leave her and insisted that she let him take her to a church group home for runaways. But when he turned around to get her to agree she had just vanished. He reported her as a missing child."

 

Dean looked at the typed statement from a Reverend Fred Rodriguez. Passing the paper to Sam he turned back to the second sheet Harrison pushed across the desk.

 

"And the second man?"

 

"A truck driver, Pete Freely, he also picked the girl up, and tried to take her to a local shelter for abused women. But said she insisted on going to the house. When they got there he got out of the truck to open the door, and she was gone. Vanished without a trace."

 

"What about the other men, the ones that were hurt."

 

"Hurt, they were damned near killed. All three men ended up in the hospital. I can't say why because they refused to give any kind of statement, to me or to the police except to say they had picked up a girl hitch-hiking on the freeway."

 

"Did you get a description of the girl?"

 

Harrison nodded looking perplexed.

 

"That's the odd thing. All of the men described the same girl, said she was a real beauty. And her description matched several girls who are missing, but the one who actually did a sketch with the police artist, well the girl was a dead ringer for Missy Holloway."

 

"This girl missing?"

 

"Nope," Harrison said, "She's stone cold dead. Has been for fifty years. What has this got to do with your kidnapping case?”

 

“Well, since this uhh…Missy Holloway is dead probably nothing. I’m sorry but we’re probably wasting your time, but just on the off chance that this girl may be one of our missing kids do you have a copy of that artist’s sketch?” Dean smiled at the older man.

 

Harrison shuffled through the piles of papers on his desk, and handed him a Xerox copy of a drawing of a girl’s head.

 

Back at the car Sam tucked the sketch into a folder.

 

“So we head to the library and check obits on Missy Holloway.”

 

“Yeah, I’m betting she’s our girl.”   Dean checked his watch. “It’s after five. The library is probably closed. We can try the newspaper archives, but I’d say they’re probably about to close up shop too.  We might as well head to the hotel and hole up there. We’ll get this thing straightened out tomorrow.”

 

Sam nodded. They hit the drive through and went back to the hotel. Sam settled on the bed with his laptop beside him.

 

“Hey, Dean, I was able to pull up some old newspapers stories. Missy Holloway was fifteen at the time of her death in 1956. She drowned in a pond at their family farm. Nothing suspicious about the death, at the time.”


“So what are you thinking, Sam? Daddy killed her and she’s got it out for men? That doesn’t explain why she waited fifty years to get around to it.”

 

Dean frowned. Sam shot his a look over the top of the computer, and shrugged.

 

“I’m guessing that it actually has very little to do with the fact that they were men. Two of the men were not harmed at all, why?” he said turning to Dean.

 

“They offered to help her. Maybe the other three got too touchy feely, came on to her and she blasted them.”

 

“That still doesn’t explain why she waited until now? Unless it has something to do with the plague,” Sam said, closing the computer. Dean settled on the bed beside him.

 

“That’s possible. Maybe the two guys she didn’t kill were like you and Dad. If she was attacked by a man she might not have killed them, especially if they were more female now.”

 

Sam winced.

 

“We’re not more female, Dean. We are the same physically as we’ve always been, just producing different hormones. I mean our female parts are more functional than before, but overall we’re still the same…”

 

“Okay, whatever, Dude.”

 

 “But I suppose that might be true. You noticed it, Dad and I do have a more female scent or something. I guess a ghost might notice it on other hermaphrodites as well.”

 

Nodding Dean patted Sam on the leg.

 

“That’s it then. We’ll head out to Highway 335 after midnight tonight, see what we turn up.”

 

“Dean, I’ve been thinking…”

 

“God, why do I not like the sound of that?” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“Dean, come on. Why did you decide to do what you did?”

 

“I’m not following you Sammy,” Dean said not looking up.

 

Sam put his fingers under his brother’s chin and lifted his head. Dean shrugged him off.

 

“You know exactly what I mean. Why start this thing between us? Do you feel like that about me? I’ve never noticed it before.”

 

“Sammy, if it wasn’t me then they might pick you up and ship you off to some strange guy. I wanted to protect you from that. It’s not like it’s killing me to do it.”

 

“Why is this so much harder for you and me? Beside the whole incest thing. Dad and Bobby seem to be doing better.”

 

Dean grinned.

 

“That’s ‘cause Dad and Bobby were already in love with each other. Why do you think Dad worked so hard at keeping Bobby away? Because he knew it was just a matter of time before he gave in, and ended up sleeping with Bobby.”

 

Dean settled down rubbing Sam’s shoulders. Sam leaned back into his brother’s warm, strong hands. He sighed.

 

“It doesn’t bother you, the incest part of it?” Sam waved his arm between the two of them. “It’s against the law, did you know that? If they find out that we’re brothers.”

 

“Nobody’ll find out. I don’t give a damn about it being illegal. That only applies to other people. We’re Winchesters; those things don’t apply to us.”

 

“God, you and Dad. What the hell makes you both think that Winchesters are above the law?”

 

“Because we put our lives on the line killing things that most people don’t even want to believe exist. We fight evil, real evil. We try to make things right for people. Please, Sammy let’s not do this right now. We got to lay this ghost to rest.”

 

Tags: fiction het, fiction other, fiction slash, wip
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