linda92595 (linda92595) wrote,

The Grass Isn't Always Green on the Other Side Pt 4 FRAO John/Bobby

Dean stumbled over the pile of clothes in the living room floor and belated recognized it as John's dress. It amused him when he ran those words over in his head again…Dad's dress.  Snickering he shot Sam a glance then fished the crumple material off the floor.


 "And here ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the mauve tulle dress worn by big, bad John Winchester…we asked that it be marked as Exhibit A."


Sam rolled his eyes.


"You better not let Dad hear you say that, you'll be running laps until the apocalypse."


Suddenly Dean plopped down on the sofa wincing when he came into contact with a damp area. His eyes widened. "There's a wet spot on the sofa. Dad's clothes on the floor…"


Sam lifted the crumpled white dress-shirt that Bobby had worn under his suit.


"Bobby's clothes in the floor. I think I'm beginning to see a picture here."


Dean made a face. "Ewww, Dude, not the kind of picture I want at eight o'clock in the morning."


Sam coughed. "Not the kind of picture that I want at any time. Dad having sex, ewww."


"With Bobby," Dean shuddered.  They grimaced at each other until John's voice carried in from the other room.


"Shut up, we're trying to sleep in here."


"After the night you just had, you should be tired," Dean said snidely.


"What was that, I didn't quiet hear you," John shouted.


Sam grabbed his brother's arm.


"Nothing, Dad, Dean and I are going to get breakfast."


"Good," Bobby said loudly, "It'll give me and John time to have sex again."



The moonlight had faded from the sky just as John put the last of the things he needed for the summoning ritual in a bag. Quickly he sat down on the bed, pulling on his boots. He glanced at the other side of the bed, and the big man snoring softly there. He needed to get this done quickly for their sake. It wasn't fair to Bobby to let this thing go on any longer. John was still kicking himself for giving in and sleeping with the other man. He wasn’t finished with his quest, he wasn't finished taking vengeance on the evil that had destroyed his life, he wasn't finished grieving for Mary. He couldn't give Bobby what he needed, wanted, not yet.


Picking up the bag he closed the cabin door and headed off into the woods for the clearing they had scouted the first day they had arrived. He touched the bag feeling the vague outline of the fake gun nestled inside. Taking a deep breath he began hiking up the hillside.


The clearing was different in the stark light of the moon, so different than the clean warmth of daylight. John carefully lifted a can of limestone powder out of the bag and began laying out a design on the grass. When he had the sigil drawn he put out candles in red glass holders, sitting them at the compass points.   


Finally he mixed herbs and oil in a small silver bowl until he had a syrupy green paste. With his hunting knife John sliced a gash across his palm and dripped blood into the bowl. He struck a match, lighting the paste then an eerie green glow enveloped John's body.


He wasn't sure what he was expecting but when the girl walked into the clearing he was almost sure she was a hiker, lost on the trail, until he saw the gold glimmering in her eyes. Cocking her head she snickered.


"So you're the great John Winchester, you know from everything I've heard about you I thought you'd be taller."


John sighed. "You're not who I was expecting.”


"Well, I'm who you got."


She turned briefly glancing over her shoulder and John was startled by the appearance of another figure. A young man stepped out of the shadows moving over to the girl's side.


"Where's the gun, John."


He fished the Colt out of the bag and handed it to her.


"Where's the potion to reverse the spell?"


Flinching she produced a small, blue velvet bag from her pocket handing it over. John glanced into the bag, checking for the three small vials of amber liquid. He quickly tucked the bag into his pocket backing up a step.  The male demon stepped forward.


"How do we know that this is the real gun?"


"How am I supposed to know this potion will do what you say it will? I guess you'll just have to trust me on that one."


"Bargaining time is just about over John. The truce ends so don't screw around with us. You won't like it if you do."


Suddenly the air was split by the sound of a gun shot. Both John and the girl jumped. She looked down eyes wide in disbelief.


"You shot me!"


John managed to dive for the duffle bag at his feet. Pulling out a large silver flask he dodged the young woman then threw the contents of the flask on the male demon. He screamed, writhing in agony. The girl backed away snarling at John.


“That was stupid John, really stupid. I’m going to rip the skin from your bones." She lunged forward catching him across the face with a flat handed slap that sent him spinning into the trunk of a tree. She watched as the male demon’s body fell to ash, crumbling in on itself.


With a quick gesture the girl wrenched John around and slammed him against the tree again. He sagged forward, unconscious and she quickly retrieved a length of rope out of his own bag securing his arms behind his back. With her supernatural strength it took little effort to lift the limp body onto her shoulders and set out down the trail.



It was a little past midnight when Bobby rolled over, and found the other side of the bed empty. Cursing under his breath he rolled out of bed fishing his underpants off the floor and hurriedly dressing in his jeans and a t-shirt.


He pounded on the door to the other bedroom rousing Sam and Dean. The boys staggered out of the door staring at the red-faced panicked man. Dean caught Bobby by the arm as he paced by them for the tenth time.


“Bobby, what’s wrong?”


“John’s gone. Packed up all the stuff to do the summoning and took off.”


Suddenly the door slammed opened and a small blond girl stood framed in the empty doorway.


Sam hissed, “Meg.”


She took in the empty room and the half-dressed people.


“You know after everything I’ve heard about the almighty Winchesters, I’ve gotta say I’m a little under-whelmed. I mean first you got Johnny trying to pass off a fake gun, and now you three. Where’s the gun?”


“Where’s our Dad?” Dean snarled.


Meg turned on him grinning. She stepped forward and Dean slid smoothly back a pace.


“That’s not a very nice way to ask,” Meg said grinning.


Bobby shuffled around and she dodged to the side coming close to Sam. He also took a step back and she paused glancing between the three humans. Suddenly she looked up and gasped.  Painted on a large square of white canvas was a Devil’s Trap. And she was standing dead center of it. Shivering she tried to flee but was held fast. With a sneer Dean shoved a chair at the girl knocking her off her feet. She fell heavily into the chair. Dean moved closer.


“Where’s our father, bitch.”


“Nice.  You kiss your mother with that mouth? Ohh, I forgot, you don’t.”


Dean leaned down slapping Meg across the face. Bobby caught the younger man’s arm.


“Dean don’t.  You gotta be careful of her. That’s a human possessed by a demon.”


Moving to the side table Bobby picked up John’s journal, handing it to Sam. Flipping through the pages he came to a ritual of exorcism. Sam began chanting, as Meg writhed and screamed. Sam read through the ritual once and then began a second time when the girl’s head tipped back and the demon poured out of her body in a thick oily black cloud.

Chest heaving Meg fell out of the chair hitting the floor heavily and not moving. Sam bent down as Bobby went to get a glass of water. Her dark eyes fastened on Sam’s face.


“Thank you,” she whimpered. “It’s been a year. Oh god the things that I’ve done.”

“Meg, where’s our father?”


Coughing she nodded.


“There’s a cabin on an old service road not far from the clearing where he did the summoning. I took him there.”


When Bobby came back he stooped down touching the side of her neck. She was still. He shook his head. He shoved the Colt into Dean’s hands.

“You boys take the car up to the cabin and fetch John. God knows what kind of shape he’s in. And hurry. I’ll deal with the girl.”


He disappeared into the back room and re-appeared a few seconds later with a bed-sheet. He was wrapping her small, still body in the cloth when Sam and Dean left.



The Impala rolled to a halt just outside the abandoned cabin Meg had described. Pushing the car door open Dean stepped out. Sam came around the front of the car, staring at the still, dark building.


“Do you think he’s alive?”


Their father was bound on a single bed shoved hastily into a corner of the one room structure. Dean hurried over and felt John’s neck for a pulse. He smiled weakly at Sam.


 “Well, he’s still alive, help me get him untied.”


Sam grabbed his arm preventing Dean from undoing the ropes. Quickly he pulled a small flask of holy water out of his pocket and splashed it over John’s prone form. John stirred moaning, then said, in a harsh whisper, “Good thinking, Sammy.”


Dean hurriedly cut the robes helping their father to his feet. John rolled over pulling himself upright. Rubbing the back of his head with one hand he glanced from one son to the other.


“Did you get the girl?”


“Yeah, she came by the cabin but we exorcised her. She’s back in hell now. Are you okay, Dad?”


“Yeah, what about the gun?” John said, rising to his feet.


Sam pulled the Colt out of his pocket and placed it on the table. John smiled. Suddenly Sam found himself flung back against the wall. Dean uttered a brief cry and dived for the table. He came up just inches short and was thrown backwards into the wall behind him. John stalked forward staring at the beautiful blond doll his oldest son had become.


“I thought that this might finish you all. I never counted on Johnny having it together enough to get you help.”


“What about the holy water,” Dean hissed groaning. John’s eyes flashed amber, and he grinned.


“You think that something like that works on something like me?”


Sighing John tilted his head eyes boring into Dean’s. Dean moaned as his heart squeezed in his chest, blood bubbling on his lips.


“You should have just taken the deal. But now that you killed my children, I’m going to make you suffer.”


Dean groaned again, jerking as invisible claws raked his body; his shirt parted and crimson stains soaked the material.


“Dad,” he hissed, “Dad, don’t you let him kill me.”


John’s body staggered a few paces backwards and he lowered his head. When he looked up again, John’s eyes were their normal hazel-brown not amber. Sam dropped heavily to the ground rolling forward until he butted up against the table. The Colt rocked dropping into his hand.


John whirled as Dean hit the floor with a dull thud. Tears streaking down his face, John turned to his younger son, pleading,


“Shoot me, Sammy. Shoot me the heart.”


Sam rose unsteadily to his feet, hand trembling. Dean rolled over, his voice muffled by pain.


“No, don’t do it, Sam.”


With a desperate cry John shook violently.


“I don’t know how much longer I can hold him. Sammy, you shoot me in the heart.”


John’s body jerked violently once more then levitated in the air, spinning slowly. Sam took aim and pulled the trigger. The shot hit John in the thigh and he collapsed onto the floor with a moan. His head tilted back and the thick black cloud of the demon’s true form poured out of his mouth.


Sam jumped forward kneeling beside Dean, who pushed him away.


“Check on, Dad.”


John rolled onto his hands and knees them scrabbled to his feet limping heavily. Sam gently pulled Dean to his feet, and slid an arm around John’s waist hauling him upright.

They stumbled out to the car. John slid into the passenger side seat up front while Sam pushed Dean into the rear. He hurried to the driver’s door, climbing in.


"Dean, drink this now."


John managed to fumble the blue bag from his pocket, shoving one of the vials of potion over the seatback to Dean. The younger man took it lifting the vial to his lips. When he was satisfied that Dean had swallowed the potion John fumbled a second vial out and handed it to Sam who swallowed the liquid down. John’s finger slid into the bag a third time but he found only the broken remains of an empty vial.


He looked in the rearview mirror at Dean smiling. Sam pulled the car out of the park and onto the road leading into town, and then cast a glance at his brother in the back seat.  Then at John who shrugged.


“You should have killed me, Sam. It would have ended all this.”


“We still have a chance, Dad. We still have the gun and one bullet left…”


The car swung around to sound of shrieking metal as a semi-truck plowed into the Impala mid-cabin. The truck picked the car up, carrying it across the road and down an embankment on the other side. When the semi slid to a halt, the car rocked and skidded a few feet tires churning futility on the wet grass.


Sam’s head rolled back, his neck creaking audibly. He glanced over at the passenger side seat frowning when he caught sight of his father’s small, pale face pinched in agony. Dean was huddled in the back blood running down his temple. With a grunt Sam managed to get his fingers around the butt of the gun lifting it as the driver of the truck ripped the door from the hinges.


Leveling the gun Sam fired once at point blank range. The bullet hit the trucker in the heart and his body flew backwards from the force of the shot. The black cloud that was the demon roiled out of his mouth dissipating on the cold morning air. With a sigh Sam dropped against the seat, surrendering to the darkness.



When he next awoke Sam was lying on a stretcher as two paramedics loaded him into an ambulance.  He groaned tugging at the tattered remnant of the garments falling off his body. He tried to move, tried to see where Dean and his father was but the woman lacing a neck brace on him blocked his view.


Sam screamed, “My family, my brother…I have to know if they’re still alive.”



The second time the Sam awakened he was in the emergency room. A nurse in pale blue scrubs was hooking his IV line up and turned to him smiling.


“So you’re awake again. No more screaming.”


Sam nodded, his throat felt like it was on fire as it was.


“My brother and my father, are they here?”


“Your brother is right across the hall. I guess that your father is on his way; your brother told the admitting desk to call someone named Bobby. Your mother is in intensive care.”


Sam frowned.


“My mother is dead.”


Looking up the nurse hurried to his side.


“Oh no, honey. Your mother is alive. She had a concussion and a broken arm, and she’s unconscious now, but she’s still alive.”


He didn’t bother arguing with her. After a few hours he and Dean were released and sat in the waiting room looking for Bobby. The older man appeared an hour later bearing a duffle bag he had salvaged out of the Impala. Sam took note that it was filled with his and Dean’s ‘real’ clothes.


When they were dressed the boys followed Bobby to ICU on the next floor. A doctor met them at the door to the room, and Sam glanced inside. He could see John’s small, slender and, still female, body lying in a hospital bed, arm in a sling. Bobby glanced at both younger men.


“I don’t know what happened, but I suspect that one of the vials was broken and John gave the other two to you boys.”


The doctor flipped through the chart he was carrying before looking up at Bobby and the younger men.


“I’m Dr. Brannon, and you are…”


“Uh, Bobby Singer, Jonnie’s husband, and these are our boys.”


“So her name is Jonnie. She kept muttering that under her breath. Well, she is going to be in the hospital for a few days, but she’s going to be fine. Right now we have her sedated but she should be waking up. The one injury that I am worried about is the head injury. She might have some loss of memory.”


Nodding Bobby sighed. “I kind of figured that.”


They were distracted by movement from the bed. John stirred looking around slowly.

She blinked.


“Where am I?”


Doctor Brannon stepped forward.


“Jonnie, you’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident, and you have a concussion.”


“I don’t remember anything,” John said struggling to rise.


Bobby hurried to her side. John looked up blinking again.


“I know you, I think.”


“Sure, it’s me, Bobby.”


“Are you my husband?” John asked slowly, and Bobby smiled nodding. “I do remember that. Are these our sons?”


Dean swallowed the lump in his throat.


“No, ma’am. Our father was a good friend of your husband. We were just visiting.”


John lay back.


“I remember you both, we must have known you all your lives.”


Sam swallowed hard.


“Yes, ma’am.”


Bobby rose patting her arm.


“Jonnie you get some rest. I’m just gonna step outside with Sam and Dean. I’ll be right back.”


When they were outside the older man turned to Dean.


“Did you get the demon? He’s the one that I worry about the most.”


“Yeah,” Sam said, “He’s gone. Is Dad going to be like this for the rest of his life?”


Bobby shrugged.


“Her life, Sam. And yeah, I don’t know how much she’ll eventually remember. Maybe everything, maybe nothing, but you boys don’t have to worry I’ll take good care of her.”



Later that night Dean and Sam collected all of their father’s clothes and personal effects from Bobby’s place. Dean carefully wrapped them in a blanket, lowering them into a trench they had dug in the woods just behind the house. Carefully Sam poured gasoline on the pyre and lit it. The bundle burned brightly. Dean stood stoically by the fire, watching his brother cry quietly. But Dean shrugged his brother’s hand off when Sam came to stand by him. Nothing would change the fact that John Winchester was gone. All that remained of him was going slowly to ash. Dean sighed, that wasn't particularly true. He would always see John Winchester in the warm hazel eyes of Bobby Singer's pretty wife.


The End


Tags: fiction het, fiction other, fiction slash

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