linda92595 (linda92595) wrote,

The Plague Pt 10 FRAO Sam/Dean, John/Bobby

The Plague Pt 10

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)


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.


Many thanks to Sioux-Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.



They pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse at half-past four in the afternoon. John parked the truck beside Dean's car, but he didn't get out right away. Bobby slid out of the cab and followed the boys into the dim interior of the bar.


Dean looked at the few patrons already sitting at the tables scattered throughout the room's interior. At the bar was a middle-aged woman. She was tall and slender with shoulder length dark blond hair. He thought she must be Ellen Harvelle, the bar's owner. Bobby confirmed that when he strode forward and grasped her in a bear hug. She smiled at him then looked at the two younger men. She scrutinized them like they were some kind of museum display then a smile softened her features.


"So these must be John's boys. Hell, it's been a while hasn't it?" She addressed the statement to Bobby.  Waving a hand Ellen motioned them over, "Well, come on over here so I can get a look at you."


Dean cast a sideways glance at her and the older man then shrugged. Sam followed him, looking down at her from his greater height. She smiled at them again.


"Yep, you favor John all right. Where is he?"


Suddenly John's voice carried from the door.


"Hello, Ellen."


Something dark and ugly flashed in her eyes, but Ellen managed to close it down so quickly that Sam wasn't sure what he had seen. John hesitated at the door but finally walked over to the bar. He didn't offer to hug her or even shake her hand. Ellen pulled back just to make sure that he didn't. Wrapping her arms around her chest she nodded.


"I'm sorry as hell about Marti, John. I know what she was to you."


John looked as if he was going to say something then he paused glancing around the room. Finally he sighed.


"Yeah, thanks."


Ellen nodded.


"You boys want a beer?"


Dean grinned and nodded, but Sam just shook his head. Bobby pulled a barstool up for John and he dropped onto it. Bobby eased his stool forward so that John could lean against his shoulder. Ellen cocked her head.


"Bobby, beer or something stronger?"


Bobby took a deep breath.


"A little early for it, but under the circumstances, and since John's driving a Jack and coke if you please."


"John?" Ellen said reaching for a glass under the bar.


John picked at a napkin.


"Just iced tea if you've got it."


She gave him a funny look.


"You on the wagon? I never thought I’d see John Winchester turn down free booze."


"I'm not that bad, Ellen. Besides I can't drink, Bobby would kill me. I'm pregnant."


The glass shattered at her feet and Ellen jumped back to avoid the spray of liquid.


"Shit," she hissed.


Quickly she got a broom from behind the bar and raked up the mess.


"I'm sorry. John did you just say you're pregnant?"


"Yeah, about three months. Sammy is pregnant, too."


Frowning, Ellen shoved the dustpan into the trashcan with more force that was necessary, the glass spilling over the side. The four men at the bar watched as her chest hitched, and then she looked away. Suddenly it occurred to John that Bill and Ellen's daughter wasn't in the room. He huffed out a breath uncertain of what to say when Bobby looked over at him.


"We're real sorry about Jo, Ellen. You know that don't you. It's just that you never said anything, not until it was too late."


"There wasn't nothing to say, Bobby. She didn't die on a hunt, no monster killed her. At least not directly she just got sick."


"Still it must have been rough with her being your only child and all."


Ellen whirled staring at John.


"Yeah, Bill and I always wanted more but we all know how that ended."


John flinched, and Bobby glared at the woman behind the bar. Ellen raised a hand.


"Don't say it Bobby. I promised that I would be civil and I will. But that doesn't change what we all know."


Dean bristled and Ellen turned on him, smiling. 


"Don't get so puffed up. I'm not after your daddy. That water went under the bridge a long damn time ago."


"So when is the service for Marti?" John asked.


Ellen poured Bobby another drink and got John his tea. She set the glass down in front of him then leaned forward on her elbow.


"We've still got some people coming in, those who aren't on a hunt right now. I plan to do it on Sunday, in the morning. You now Marti was a real stickler about going to Sunday service.  Jim Murphy is gonna be here to lead the prayers and all. He knew Marti and he knows most of hunters coming in. He's flying down so I'm gonna pick him up at the airport in Lincoln tomorrow afternoon."


Sam sat up suddenly his face pale. Dean eased into the seat beside him, but didn't try to touch the younger man. With a grim expression Sam bolted toward the restrooms in the hall across the room. He barely made it to the toilet before he retched and vomited up the soda he'd been drinking along with the remains of his lunch.


The small group gathered at the bar watched him go with varying degrees of concern. Dean hurried across the room and shoved the door open. John was close behind him. The elder Winchester leaned against the doorjamb watching as his older son squatted beside the younger.


"Sammy, are you okay now?"


Sam shook his head then whined plaintively,




John pushed past Dean and dropped an arm around Sam's shoulders.


"Come on, I have some of my meds in the truck. I'll get you something to straighten you out."


Dean looked offended then hurt as Sam and their father brushed past him. Bobby came up behind him and put his hand on the younger man's arm. Dean shook him off but Bobby blocked the door.


"Dean, let them have this. It's good for Sam and John to work this out together."


"But when we were growing up, if Dad wasn't there it was my job to take care of Sam. He depended on me."


"Well, they've got a common bond now. Like I said let them have this, it's good for them both. You know, being pregnant at the same time gives them more in common than they've probably ever had. Let John be the daddy he couldn't always be for Sammy when he was little."


Dean frowned.


"But I want to be the one…"


"Look maybe its age or experience but I know that you'll always be the one for Sammy. Like I am for John, but don't interfere in this, it’s special, just for them."


With a smile Bobby patted Dean on the back, Dean smiled back at him.


"You know for an old hillbilly you're pretty damn smart."


"Well, once in a while I get lucky."


They walked over to the bar together and Ellen looked up, something odd in her expression. For a second Bobby started to call her on it, but concern for Sam overrode it and he sighed.


"I think John and Sam need to rest for bit. We're going to be at the motel down the road."


Ellen smiled.


"Uh Bobby, they rent those rooms by the hour, most of the time. I'm sure we can fix something up here. If you'd prefer."


"Nope, we'll be okay. John and I've stayed worse places and I know the boys have too. Beside I can't wait to see the look on John's face when he sees the heart shaped red velvet bed with the mirror on the ceiling."


Dean shot him a look then heaved a sigh following Bobby out the door. If the rooms really looked like that Sam was going to have a heart attack. It only took a few minutes to drive from the bar to the motel. Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot beside his Dad's truck. The older men were already unloading their bags and John nudged the door open. When he didn't hear any shouting Dean helped Sam out of the car and picked up both duffle bags.


He had a moment's dread when he saw his brother standing in the door to the motel room with a horrified expression on his face. Dean shouldered past him and dropped the bags on the table. He turned surveying the room. It wasn't as bad as he had thought, but was certainly tasteless and tacky. Sam still hadn't come in from the doorway. Dean smiled at him toeing off his shoes and flopping down on the bed, the springs squealed and squeaked.


Finally Sam staggered in and dropped heavily into a chair.


"Well, it’s a good thing that Dad gave me some of his pills because just the color scheme alone would have made me nauseous."


Dean bounded off the bed and over to the dresser. He flipped on the tv and grinned at the obvious nature of the film on the screen. He wandered to the door and flipped the light switch; the fixture in the center of the ceiling came on casting glittering, flickering lights over the room. Sam gaped open-mouthed at the twinkling monstrosity.


"For future reference we are never letting Bobby pick the hotel again."


Dean waggled his eyebrows at the younger man.


"Oh come on, this room could be a lot of fun."


"I bet it's been a lot of fun for way too many people. My heart says yes but my stomach says no way."



Sam was asleep beside him as Dean sat watching the flickering images on the television. He sighed, the room was about as tastelessly suggestive an anything he had ever seen and Sam was too sick for them to properly enjoy it. Maybe he'd feel better tomorrow, and they could make proper use of the bed. He slid the velvet blanket off fanning himself with a piece of the newspaper. It was hot in the room, air conditioning was too much to ask for.


Sam was snoring softly.  Dean rolled onto one elbow staring down at the younger man. He touched Sam's shaggy bangs, brushing them back from his sweat dampened forehead. He grinned letting his eyes travel the length of his brother's body, finally coming to rest on his belly. Somewhere in there was the tiny bud of life, the baby that they had made together. Dean sighed, it all still seemed so unreal to him. Maybe when he could see the evidence of life the way he could with his father, then it would seem more concrete. In the next room he could hear the faint squeal of the bed as it was rocked gently, and grinned.




John lay on his back looking over Bobby's shoulder at their image in the mirror. He could see the broad expanse of Bobby's back glistening with sweat, and his own head and shoulders. He was mesmerized by the flex and glide of the long muscles in Bobby's back, the twist and flex of his buttocks as he thrust slowly in and out. John gasped feeling the first tiny contractions of orgasm, still he held back, watching as Bobby's thrusts gained momentum until his hips were pumping in short quick strokes. John wished that the mirror was canted so that he could actually see Bobby's cock sliding in and out of him, but that would take more acrobatic skill than either of them possessed. Tomorrow he planned on having Bobby flat on his back watching as John rode him.




Later that night, as Bobby lay asleep beside him, John thought back to all those years ago when he had been a younger man, still somewhat naive about hunting. He had been a lot like Sam in those days, desperately wanting a normal life, and fighting mad because he knew it was forever denied to him.


Marti had been more than hunter; she had been something like the mother John had never had. And like a good mother she knew when to push him and when to coddle, and John had taken the coddling, as much as would have ever denied it.  He knew that he would have never survived those first few years without Martha Chavez and her no nonsense approach to training a new hunter.


Rolling onto his side John let his eyes close, but he was too wound up to sleep. The wind had picked up and the window screen rattled in the cheap aluminum frame. The hissing, rattling noise almost covered the sound of nails clicking against the wall. John sat up frowning. 


Reaching into the floor he picked up his sweatpants and pulled them on over his boxers. Carefully he walked to his duffle bag and pulled out the sawed-off shot gun he had in a pouch on the side of the bag. Loading it with rock-salt shells John tucked his Glock into the waistband of his pants and went to the door.


The wind was stirring up dust on the faded asphalt of the parking lot. He couldn't see anything on the cement walkway beside the door. John quietly unlocked the door casting a glance over his shoulder at the other man asleep in the bed. Bobby's shoulders jerked but he didn't move. Carefully John fished the door key out of the ashtray on the dresser and slipped it into his pocket. Pulling the door closed firmly behind him he glanced down the sidewalk.


Nothing moved in the parking lot beyond the truck and the Impala parked in two side by side spots. John stepped around the back of the truck and glanced under the bed. The asphalt was marred by an old oil stain but nothing moved.


The wind whipped the braches of the few trees in decorative wooden buckets scattered up and down the length of the walk way.  John thought he saw something large and black darting from the cover of the last tree to the corner of the building. Lifting the shotgun he pressed his back against the wall and slipped down the sidewalk.


He reached the cover of the first tree and glanced back the way he had come, nothing was moving, neither Bobby nor the boys had emerged from their rooms. John slid down the wall again, carefully avoiding the doorway to the next room and glanced behind the second tree. Still no movement of any kind disturbed the parking lot.


Taking a deep breath John leaned against window and glanced around the corner of the building. He could just make out the blur of movement as the dark form ducked behind the wing of the hotel. John swore and pressed his back against the glass of the window.


Inside the room, a shadow flickered across the drawn curtains, as someone walked to the window from the interior of the room. John didn't notice the flickering movements in the darkened room, but a faint scraping of fingernails on glass caught his attention. He leaned back, staring at the slight movement of the curtains being drawn back. The last thing he wanted was someone catching him in the parking lot with a gun. Frowning John stepped back from the window.


The door to the room he shared with Bobby clattered open as the wind caught it and pulled it out of Bobby's hand. He leaned around the doorjamb catching sight of John at the end of the walkway.


"Baby, what are you doing out here?"


Sighing John dropped the shot gun to his side and trotted up the walkway. Bobby glared at him and said,


"I know you weren't thinking of going out there in the woods on your own, were you?"


"I'm not helpless, Bobby," John snapped and brushed past him into the room.


Bobby followed pulling the door closed behind them. He pulled the Glock out of John's waistband then smacked him on the ass with the flat of the barrel. John jumped.


"I'm still armed you know," he said holding the shotgun aloft.


Bobby grinned at him.


"Get in bed. You need to get some sleep. I don't want you exhausted tomorrow."




The next afternoon Ellen ushered Jim Murphy into the Roadhouse. Sam rose, taking his bag and following her to the room down the corridor behind the bar. Jim looked worn around the edges and John could tell he was shaken by the news that Marti had been killed. They gathered around the pool table, Dean and Bobby shooting pool while the others watched.


Jim had cast sideways glance at John and suddenly he felt more uncomfortable with his burgeoning pregnancy that he had with anyone else. He supposed that the swelling belly was an admission that John had had sexual intercourse with another man, an idea that hadn't really disturbed him until he was in the implacable presence of the pastor.


Jim smiled patting the other man on the shoulder then he glanced down.


"How are you doing, John?"


John relaxed visibly and smiled.


"Good Jim. I'm just sorry we had to get together this way. How's things in Minnesota?"


"Cold as hell." 


Bobby chuckled always amused by their friend's sometimes decidedly unpastor-like demeanor.


"Good to see you, Preacher."



After dinner Jim and Bobby walked on the dirt path leading from the parking lot to the bar. Bobby glanced at the night sky, still awed by the display of grace and beauty that he knew was not an accident. Tilting his head back he sighed.


"I've never gotten over loving the stars. You'd think that knowing, the way we do, what's in the dark I would be afraid of the night time."


Smiling Jim glanced upward.


"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night," he quoted.


Bobby nodded.


"The reason I asked you out here is that I want to make things right with John, you know in the eyes of the Man upstairs and all. I know it won't be legal in the eyes of man, but I'd feel better knowing my baby ain't a bastard in the eyes of God."


"So you are the baby's father. I was wondering who it might be," Jim said softly.


Bobby thought he caught a hint of something in the older man's voice. He sighed, he hadn't seen that coming.


"Hell, Jim, I'm sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way about John."


"Don't worry about it. I know that John didn't feel that way about me. I'm glad it's you Bobby. I know John's loved you for a long time now, even if he wouldn’t admit it. I'd be glad to perform a ceremony for you. I think that a little joy amidst all this sorrow will be good for our souls, and well, souls are my business."


"I haven't said anything to John about it yet. I thought I’d see how you felt on the subject first. I asked him to wear a ring for me then never said how I intended to get that ring on his finger."


"Maybe you should talk to him first. John doesn't take being blindsided very well."


Bobby replied, "Ain't that the truth. I'm going to ask him tonight."



Ellen watched Bobby and Pastor Jim walking in the parking lot.  She could tell by the look on Bobby's face they were talking about John Winchester. Her fingers clenched closed to the point that her nails sank into her own palm. She slowly pried them open staring at the little half-moon cuts glimmering on her skin. Schooling her face into a bland expression she carefully placed the box of floral arrangements she was carrying on the bar then walked to Dean and John.


"Uhm, John," she said quietly.


He turned away from his son and smiled at the woman. She touched his arm.


"Can you help me get a picture frame out of the storage shed in back of the bar. It's not too heavy, I understand that you can't lift much in your condition but I can't pick it up on my own. I want to get Marti's photo in it for the service in the morning."


"Sure, Ellen, I'd be glad too. Just show me where it is."


"It's right out here in the shed, in the backyard. Let me get a flashlight."


John pushed the rear door to the kitchen open and picked his way down the path to the small wooden outbuilding. There was a single door and window in the front of the building and nothing more. He pushed the door open.  The room was too dark to see inside and he turned glancing up at the bar waiting for Ellen and the flashlight. Suddenly a pair of pale skinned, slender hands emerged out of the door catching John by the throat. Whirling he threw a punch and his fist connected with a slender cheek, but the woman's head didn't snap back. She grinned and John shuddered as her eyes flashed silver in the moonlight.


Two solid, forms rose up out of the darkness, male, bulky and dressed in black leather similar to the clothes that the woman wore. One of the men was dark skinned his shaven head glimmered in the soft light. The other man grasped John by the arm then grinned and John shuddered. Their silver eyes sparkled, vampires. John tried to break free but the male vampire wrapped one arm around his neck dragging him away from the door to the black sedan parked off the shoulder of the road.



Bobby looked up as Ellen came in from the kitchen. Glancing around the room he noticed that John was nowhere to be found.


"Hey, have you seen my better half?"


"What?" Ellen jumped nervously her eyes darting to the still open door to the backyard. Bobby followed her gaze. Suddenly he pushed off the barstool and stalked to the rear door.


"You better not have him hauling in boxes. He's not supposed to lift anything heavy…"


Bobby's voice faded as he surveyed the empty yard and the silent outbuilding. Somewhere from down the road the sound of a lone engine carried to his ears, and Bobby turned on the woman.


"Where's John, Ellen?"


"What am I, his keeper? I thought that was your job."


"I swear to God woman…"


Bobby grabbed her by the arm. She jerked back trying to free herself then cringed. He watched as she seemed to fold in on herself.


"The almighty John Winchester, just what made him so special. He's always been the great hunter, the number one man to go to. Everybody including Bill fell under his spell. You know what he did. Bill was my husband and you know what John did…"


"That's bullshit Ellen, John never slept with Bill."


"Bill knew. He knew about John being…what he is."


"So did I and so did Jim. We had to drag John's sorry ass in from a hunt a time or two beat to hell. We cleaned him up, washed him off and dressed his wounds. We've all done it for each other, and not a one of us laid a hand on John that way. Not even me, not until about five months ago. I'm telling you Ellen, John did not sleep with Bill."


"How can you be sure? They hunted alone sometimes."


"John wasn't like that; he wouldn't have slept with a married man. Hell, until we got together he hadn't slept with anyone since Mary died. And I know for a fact that he hadn't slept with Bill because I was the first man he ever laid down with."


Ellen's face went sickly white and she clasped her hand over her mouth.


"Oh my god, what did I do?"



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

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