Bobby pulled his old, beat-up truck into the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse that John had tracked the vampires to a couple of days ago. He had been delayed in getting back to town after picking up the particular book from Jim Murphy when John called him telling him he had found the hide-out. John was sure that the boys were still there, still alive. Bobby wasn't so certain himself.
The warehouse was empty, but he found signs of recent occupation and activity in several of the rooms. Bobby hadn't tracked anything for years but it was like riding a bicycle you never forgot. At least he hadn't. In one of the small side rooms Bobby found the body of a small, slender woman with long dark curls. She was dead, cold, and he wrapped her in a tarp deciding to salt and burn her later.
In the corridor Bobby found signs of a struggle, three men from the looks of it. On one wall was a smear of clotted blood, not enough to be fatal. Matted in the dried blood was a short dark brown hair. Bobby knew it was John's. Cursing under his breath Bobby scoured the floor and found a few footprints. They led out the side door to the rear parking lot. John's truck was there, and the keys were laying on the pavement a few spots over. He knew that John would never leave the keys, especially with the weapons box under false bottom of the flatbed. They must have dropped out of his pocket. That meant that John was being carried, and if one of the vampires cared enough to carry John, he was still alive. That smacked of Dean to the older man. Bobby grunted.
He made a quick thorough search and found a set of fresh tire marks leading out of the parking lot. The tread looked about right to be the Impala. If Dean was still driving that car he would be a hell of a lot easier to track.
Quickly Bobby went back into the warehouse. Gathering up all the girl's clothes and personal belongings he piled them on top of her body. Pulling a canister of salt out of his bag Bobby sprinkled the corpse and then doused her in lighter fluid. The body caught without a problem.
He decided to take John's truck simply because leaving it abandoned with all those weapons inside was not a good idea. He'd call in a report of his truck being stolen. Bobby knew how to move around inside a place without leaving traces, even if the cops decided to check out the warehouse they would never know he was there. He made sure to clean up any trace of John as well.
By nightfall John knew he was in trouble. He looked at the tray of food that had been delivered by the same blonde girl. He hadn’t eaten the other food she had brought, had no intentions of eating this. His stomach was still bubbling with stress induced gas, and he felt sick. John had no illusions that Sam and Dean had not been turned; he could only hope that Bobby would find the three of them. That he would have the book he went all the way to Blue Earth to get, and find a way to reverse this thing that had happened to his sons.
The door opened slowly and John fully expected the same slim blond girl to be standing there. Instead Dean's face came into view. Hissing a breath John tried to pull back, but he was pretty much anchored. He had found that the rope was long enough to reach the portable toilet that sat in the corner and back to the bed but no further.
The girl had come in twice to empty the toilet, doing so without batting so much as an eyelash. She had brought him several bottles of water as well, and a box of diaper wipes which was as close to a bath as he had gotten since the previous morning.
A quick movement from the door drug John out of his moody introspection, and he watched as his firstborn son crossed the room with his well-practiced swagger. Being changed hadn't altered the boy that much, physically, but there was an edge to Dean that he had lacked in life. With a grin he settled on the side of the bed pulling the tray over.
His smile faded when he looked at the cold untouched food.
"Bridgette said you didn't eat your breakfast this morning either." Dean frowned. Leaning forward he stroked a hand over his father's cheek. John pulled back.
"I don't intend to eat anything you give me."
"Dad, you might as well not be stubborn. I won't let you starve to death. If I have to I'll cut a hole in your stomach and put a tube in to feed you that liquid crap."
John flinched again, this time at the razor sharp edge of his son's voice. The younger man set the tray aside and climbed onto the bed. He slid over grasping his father's knee in one hand, pulling his legs apart. John tried to pull away, but Dean's fingers were like iron. His grip never slackened even when John's knee popped alarmingly. With a groan the older man lay still.
Dean pressed his fingertips into the dislocated joint then with a smile wrenched it back into place. John screamed. If he had eaten anything that day he would have lost it. As it was he retched, panting. Leaning down Dean slid against his father, long fingers gliding over the older man's thighs.
John struggled upright.
"Please Dean, don't do this. I can still help you; all we have to do is wait for Bobby…"
Dean's fist lashed out striking his father on the cheek. He sneered. "Don't mention that hillbilly's name around me. I'm the important one now. I'm the one who gets to have you, Dad."
With a shrug he caught John's knee again and the older man stiffened waiting for the blinding pain. Instead Dean patted him gently then let his fingers drift to the front of his own shirt loosening the buttons. John cringed again as Dean tugged the button loose on his jeans, pushing them down and off his legs. Stripped the younger man crawled the length of his father's body reaching over to the nightstand. He took a small tube out of the drawer dropping on the bed beside John's hip.
Smiling up at his father's face Dean bent down licking the soft skin at the crease of John's thigh and hip. John moaned low in his throat trying to shove Dean away. Breathing heavily John scooted back as Dean's tongue touched John's limp cock. With a wolfish grin he opened his mouth and tongued the slit. John felt the bile rising in his throat.
"Oh God, please Dean, don't."
"Shhhhh, Daddy. This'll be so good. How long has it been since you've let anyone take care of you like this? I know you jerk off a lot. Is it because you don't get laid enough or not at all?"
"Dean, for God's sake this is not right. Please don't."
John's breath hissed out of his body as his son enveloped his cock in his mouth. Dean worked him and in spite of his best efforts John found his body betraying him. He grew hard. With a snort of amusement Dean sucked him deep and hard, and John moaned. Suddenly his son's fingers were at his opening and John flinched trying to move away.
Something slick and hard probed his ass, and then John grunted as a finger worked its way inside.
He had never been penetrated before and the feeling made him uncomfortable enough that his erection wilted. Dean just worked his cock harder then curved his finger down rubbing over his father's prostate. John hardened again until with a gasped curse he came, flooding his son's mouth with his seed. He rolled onto his side humiliated and horrified.
Dean grunted, surprised at the suddenness of John's climax but slid up his father's body. He pushed against John's shoulder rolling him onto his stomach as much as possible then picked up the lube squirting a large dollop on John's back.
Scraping the clear gel up Dean coated his cock. Shoving a knee between John's legs he spread his father out, and thrust inside his body in one swift movement. John hissed in pain, fingers knotted in the dirty, rumpled sheets of the bed. It didn't take Dean long to come and he rolled off John, shrugged into his clothes and disappeared.
John lay stunned, fists still clenched around the sheets, weeping silently until the door opened again. When he looked up again Sam was standing in the doorway. With a swagger that was not nearly as expressive as his older brother's he crossed the room coming up to the bed.
"Sammy, please untie me. Let me go. I can help you and your brother. You’re both just confused right now."
Patting John's head Sam dropped onto the bed. Frowning he lifted his father's head, and then wiped at the tears on his cheeks.
"Hush, there's no need for all this, Daddy. Let me kiss it and make it all better."
Sam leaned over pressing a kiss on John's slack lips.
"Dean says that you give head like a pro. That you're a natural born cocksucker, is that true Daddy?"
"God, please Sammy. You're my baby boy…don't do this. Let me go, please, let me go."
"That's right just open your mouth. I won't take long."
Sam's long fingers twisted into John's hair. He hadn't had a haircut in long enough that the curls at the back of his neck were easily gripped. Clenching the fingers of one hand Sam gripped John's jaw and worked his thumb into his father's mouth prying it open. With a grin Sam straddled the older man's chest, pushing his knees against John's shoulders. Grunting he forced his stiff cock between his father's slack lips. John tried to pull away when Sam pushed in too far, and Sam frowned, fingers digging painfully into the older man's jaw.
"And don't think about biting Daddy. I'll knock your teeth out with a hammer if you do."
Dean sauntered into the room; John's eyes flickered to his older son's face, praying silently he was there to kill his father. But Dean merely sighed sliding onto the bed behind his younger brother. Hooking his chin over Sam's shoulder he watched as Sam pumped in and out of John's mouth.
“Daddy, don’t worry it’ll all be over soon,” Sam hissed, grinning. When he stiffened and hissed out a curse, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother's chest and pulled back. Sam's cock popped out of their father's mouth with an audible sound and he spurted across John's face.
Moaning Dean slid around Sam and licked his brother's come off John's cheeks and chin. His father groaned trying to pull away, but Dean wrapped his palm around John's head and held him in place. John sagged to the bed not moving. With a dry chuckle Dean turned pulling Sam into his arms, his mouth found his brother's and they fell down on the bed pressed tight against John's body, rubbing against each other and making sure that John could feel every movement.
Once Dean and Sam had finished John shrank away from their hands and mouths. Dean shrugged but Sam tugged his father across the bed, tonguing John's neck. He found the bruises and bite marks he had left the day before and ripped into the injured skin. Blood welled beneath his questing lips and he gulped down large mouthfuls until, once again, his older brother pulled him away.
"I mean it Sammy, you can't kill him. I won't allow it."
Sam hissed and growled but backed away. He glowered at the still, silent figure on the bed. Turning to his brother he snapped,
"Dean, he's almost dead anyway. Just let me finish him, we've had our fun."
"No! I don’t want him dead. I want him warm, alive and with me. I want to feel his mouth and ass around my cock and under my body. I want to control him. He's mine, and if you can't behave I won't share my pet with you."
When darkness enveloped the room John looked up. He could hear silence descending on the house as the vampires left. There was someone moving around in one of the other rooms, walking down the hall away from where he was. John guessed it was the blond girl, from the lightness of the footfalls. She appeared a few minutes later with a large metal bowl of water and a cloth. Dean must have said something to her because she came to the bed, and made a half-assed attempt at bathing him. John flinched every time she touched him.
"Look, girl…" he frowned."I'm sorry I don't know your name. Cut me loose and I can get us out of here before it's too late."
She frowned pulling her slender wrist out of his grasp, and John was horrified to realize the he was so weak that he couldn't hold her. She finished wiping most of the surface dirt off him, and ran some water through his hair. It didn't help with the greasy feel of his scalp and John flinched again.
"I already told you I don't want to get away. I want to be like them."
Closing his eyes in despair John sighed, "They won't make you like them. In the end they'll just kill you. If Dean wasn't my son, I'd be dead already."
She sneered at him, "You fuck with your own son? No wonder he's like he is."
John ignored her. Jerking on the rope he tried once again to free himself and felt his heart sink when he realized that he was never going to get the knots undone himself. He cast a glance at the girl, but she was already leaving. Apparently his impromptu bath was over. John still felt dirty. Of course, being raped by his own sons might have contributed to that. Moaning John tired to sleep.
John’s days faded into hunger and a haze of pain and his nights became unreal. The nightmare of having his own sons rape and torture him turned him inward. He rarely spoke, eating only when Dean forced bites of food into his mouth and sank inside himself. Sam was disgusted by the sight of him and refused to come near John.
Despite Dean’s best effort he was beginning to see that he might be forced to turn their father or kill him outright. Night fell and he was sitting on the bed watching as John slept. The older man was thinner, fading, and Dean couldn’t get enough food into him to bring him back to full health. He sighed, John was locked away from him, inside his own mind; even sex with him was no longer pleasant for the younger man. He had beaten John with a leather strap and even that failed to produce the desires results, John just wouldn’t rouse.
Grunting he casually flipped John onto his belly, smiling as his father wriggled and complained slightly before falling into an apathetic silence. Dean grabbed the tube of KY jelly on the nightstand and slicked his cock, not bothering to prepare John. He wanted his father to move or respond and John would lapse into sullen stillness if Dean prepared him properly.
His father jerked, crying out when Dean’s cock was forced into his lax body. For one minute Dean hoped that John would fight, try to throw him off, but the older man just settled onto the bed staring at the wall in utter despair.
When he was finished Dean rolled away not even trying to cover his father or wash the blood from his thighs and buttocks. He snarled and slapped John roughly on the shoulder but his father didn’t move.
Sam was standing in the door watching his brother’s every move. His eyes glittered in the darkness, shining silver then amber as he shifted minutely. He didn’t bother coming near the bed, his father no longer held any interest for him. But watching his brother violate the older man excited him, and he tugged Dean’s arm pulling his brother out the door.
Dean walked with his brother behind the three vampires they had not killed when they took over the pack. As he sauntered by the door to the upper bedroom he could just make out the still form of the he blond girl on the bed. One of them, probably Sam, had drained her dry. Her skin was luminous blue-white in the pale moonlight and he paused considering how beautiful she looked, like some sculpture in pale marble.
The five vampires left the house, Dean driving the Impala with Sam by his side as they had done for so much of their lives. The house was still and quiet behind them and the lights of the city beckoned, promising food and the greater pleasure of fear and destruction. Dean cranked up the tapedeck, humming along with the music. There was no real reason to come back to this place. John would be dead in a few days, and while Dean would miss him in the vague way one missed a dead pet, it was no great loss. And with his father dead and gone no-one would bother looking for him and Sam.
Bobby looked through the newspapers. He had left the warehouse four days ago, and the sheriff’s department had called him informing him his ‘stolen’ truck had been located and was in the impound lot. He had dutifully gotten a ride from a neighbor and paid the tow fees. Now the truck rested outside in the parking lot of Denny’s while its owner ate dinner and poured over the papers looking for a clue as to where the vampires had taken John.
There was some blurb on a back page about a missing girl. Bobby frowned at the photograph. She was perky, blonde and cute. Just Dean’s type. He was almost certain that the girl would turn up dead, drained of blood and Bobby hoped that the body of an older man didn’t turn up with her.
She had gone missing just a day before John left Bobby a message on his cell phone that he was going to the abandoned warehouse on
The first house was out of the way, far up the street at the end of the cul-de-sac, and had a large yard, more so than the other houses on the street. The driveway was long and sheltered from view by a line of stately old elm trees on both sides. It would be a good place for vampires to nest. The grounds were overgrown, and dead enough that it wouldn’t be attractive to potential buyers and the house had fallen into disrepair, either before the family moved out or since. It was a smaller three bedroom place according to the flyer on the mailbox, and the real estate agent wanted to move it fast based upon the deal he was willing cut. That meant no one had looked at it in awhile.