Pulling his truck into the driveway Bobby got out, making sure the Beretta he carried was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He pulled his flannel shirt over the gun, and crept to the front door. He lifted a crossbow out of the truck’s seat and slung a quiver of bolts across his back. The house was silent, still and he didn’t feel that gut-clenching feeling of eyes lingering on his body as he walked briskly to the door. The lock was simple, single tumbler, and easy to pick. Now he just had to pray that there was no alarm system.
The box beside the door was hanging free, disabled, and Bobby decided that was Sam’s doing. That boy could work wonders with a laptop, and apparently anything electronic was no match for his skills. For a minute Bobby took time to offer a prayer of thanks that John was a paranoid bastard who had trained his sons to be just as antisocial and dishonest as himself. And despite the younger one’s objections he knew that
Bobby moved carefully through the darkened room. The stench of dried blood and decomposing flesh was almost overwhelming. With a grunt the hunter quickly checked the first bedroom kicking the door open while bringing the crossbow up. The room was dimly lit by the early morning sunlight filtering through the ragged curtains. It was also empty.
Heaving a sigh Bobby quickly moved to the next door. It was open and he could see the dark, glimmering stains on the bare wooden floors. The blood was still fresh, glinting like spilt oil under the sullen glow of a single bulb burning over head. He stepped into the room.
There was a body on the bed, a girl. Her blond hair was matted with blood, thick dark clumps clinging wetly to her neck and face. Bobby stooped down, not even needing to check her pulse to see she was dead. Her fingers were clenched into the bedcovers, knuckles whitish-blue against the dark cloth. But her arms were stiff with rigor, and he merely glanced at her naked back and blood stained thighs. One or more of them had raped her before they bled her dry.
He was beginning to despair of finding John, thinking that maybe the boys had taken their father with them when he heard a soft sound from the next doorway down the hall. His mouth twisted into a hard line, lips rigid with fury, as Bobby hefted the crossbow and stepped out into the hallway once again.
The last room on the right was the final of this house's three bedrooms. The room was brightening now as the dawn broke over the hills and poured the first fragile threads of sunlight into the big bay window. There was a bed placed on the far wall, dead-center between two smaller windows. The covers were rumpled, streaked with blood and other body fluids and nestled in the center of the big bed was a figure.
He was filthy, covered in his own blood. And he stank. Of course, the vampires had had John here for a few days before Bobby could figure out where to begin looking for him. Now he wasn't sure that he wanted to find the other man. John was moving, but that didn't necessarily mean he was still alive. Although the thin fingers of sunlight spilling through the window touched his naked legs and John didn't pull away.
Bobby eased forward sweeping the crossbow around the room, but other than the man tied to the bed it was empty. Laying the bow across the foot of the bed he eased a flask of holy water out of his pocket and dribbled it on John's bare leg. The cuts smoked and John hissed in pain, but not as if he was a vampire. Only like an injured man.
Silently Bobby surveyed his friend's body. John's back was criss-crossed with red welts, some of them puffy and swollen and Bobby knew that meant that they were getting infected. That settled it, vampires healed instantly, infection and disease equated to still living flesh.
Pulling a hunting knife out of the top of his boot he began cutting through the nylon rope fastening John's left wrist to the headboard. When his friend's arm was free he set about cutting through the length of rope that bound his ankle. Once John was cut loose Bobby took a look at the multitude of injuries he had.
There were the welts, from a beating, across his back and several bite marks on John's neck and shoulders. Some of the bite marks were deep enough that Bobby could tell the vampires had fed on John; others were purely for sadistic pleasure. There were bruises on John's side and hips, finger marks, and for a minute Bobby didn't want to think about what that meant, but the blood dried on John's buttocks and thighs left nothing to the imagination. Bobby swore.
He and John had been dancing on the edge of attraction for each other for years now. Held back only by John’s inexperience with another man. When it happened, and Bobby was sure that it would happen, he wanted to be the first for John. How could he approach the younger man now?
That faded from his mind as quickly as it had come, and Bobby gently turned John onto his back surveying the rest of the other man's body. There were long scratches ripped into the flesh of John's forearms, defensive wounds. He had put up a good fight, not that it had gotten him anywhere.
"John," Bobby hissed glancing over his shoulder. The house was still, silent and it was fully daylight now, but that didn't mean that the vampires couldn't return. Grunting Bobby slid John upright in the bed and shook him a little. The other man stirred, groaning but his eyes remained closed. Bobby could feel the heat of his body, John was burning with fever and that worried him.
"Johnny, I got to move you. Can you help me just a little? You're taller than me and it's gonna take a lot for me to get you up off this bed."
That seemed to rouse the other man further, and John dragged himself into a seated position, one eye cracking open. "Bobby?" he murmured.
"Yeah, it's me, Johnny. Can you lean forward a bit, help me get you upright?”
Nodding his head weakly John half-leaned half-fell forward over Bobby's shoulder and then the older man took a deep breath sliding John's weight over his back. He rose, knees grinding and creaking. But he managed to stand.
It took him a long time to get John to the truck, and it wasn't a pretty sight him staggering and cussing under the younger man's limp form. But he managed. Bobby fastened John into the seatbelt to keep him upright and tossed a blanket, out of the back of the truck, over him then set off back to his house.
It took him filling and emptying the white enameled wash basin five times before John was as clean as Bobby wanted him to be. John lay still barely moving, staring vacantly at the window while the older man bathed him, and that was more worrying to Bobby than the actual injuries that the younger man had sustained. Still John had come out of this better off than the girl he had left in the house.
Bobby winced when he rolled John over onto one side to wash his back and buttocks. He cleaned away the blood cursing to himself as the cuts and bruises became more evident. Which ever one of the vampires had worked him over had done a number on him. Still, Bobby was relieved that he didn't seem to have any broken bones or internal injuries.
He winced again as John stiffened when the washcloth dipped into the crease of his ass. It was pretty evident that John had been raped, repeatedly. But Bobby could see that the amount of bruising and tearing to John's anus was minimal so whoever had done it had, at least, wanted him alive probably for future use.
Once John was washed and under the quilt, Bobby put on a pot of strong tea and went to his medical supplies for a hypodermic needle and a vial of antibiotic. The infected gashes on John's back were the most troubling of his injuries. John was feverish and had faded in and out of consciousness throughout the time Bobby had been tending to him. He looked carefully through the vials of clear liquid finally settling on Keflex, since John and his boys were all allergic to Penicillin.
After he had given John the shot Bobby went back to the kitchen and poured a large mug of tea liberally lacing it with sugar and honey. John would probably balk at the surgery taste but he needed the extra energy the tea would give him. Glancing around the kitchen he was gratified to see that he had everything he needed to make a pot of hearty beef stew. He could cut it with water at first to make a soup then as John recovered, get more solid food into him.
Taking the mug Bobby settled on the edge of the bed and gently prodded John's shoulder. The other man hissed and flinched and Bobby frowned. He should have told John who he was.
"I'm sorry Johnny. It's just me, old Bobby. Come on and sit up for me so I can get some of this tea into you. You need some fluids."
John sighed rolling over with a small grunt. His eyes blinked opened and he glared up at the other man.
"I don't need a nursemaid, Singer."
"Yeah, yeah…tough guy to the end. I got it, Johnny. Here hold this and let me prop you up a bit."
Finally with a lot of grunting and a little spilt tea Bobby managed to get John in a roughly upright position. John blew across the top of the mug to cool the liquid then took a sip. His face twisted in a grimace.
"Holy shit, how much sugar did you put in this? You trying to give me diabetes?"
"Naw, I figure you could just use somethin' to sweeten your sunny disposition a little."
John rolled his eyes but offered the other man a tired smile. Bobby slid across the bed resting the outside of his thigh against John's leg, and was surprised when the other man didn't shrug him off. They sat there in companionable silence until John had finished most of the cup. He yawned and Bobby eased him down.
"Looks like its time for a nap. You rest for a bit. I'm going to make us some beef stew for dinner, okay? Don't you get out of bed by your lonesome. Call me if you need to go to the bathroom."
"I think I can take a piss on my own, Bobby. I don't need you to hold it for me," John snapped without any real heat in it. Bobby winked.
"Yeah, but you might like it if I did."
John's face pinked up nicely and Bobby chuckled at that.
"That's one for me," he said happily. Patting John's leg he rose leaving to door opened just so he could keep an ear on the other man if he decided to get up.
Bobby was pleased that he got three-quarters of a bowl of soup into John at dinnertime, and that the Keflex seemed to be doing the trick on his cuts. The puffy, red look of the welts had faded considerably. John let Bobby take him to the bathroom and he stood patiently outside until John was finished and they hobbled back to the bed.
It wasn't until night fell that Bobby realized that John wasn’t doing as well as he had thought. They had dragged the TV in from the living room and were seated propped against the headboard watching the tail end of the first NFL game of the season, the Chiefs against the Raiders, when a noise outside the window startled them both. Bobby figured it was just one of the dogs making his way around the yard, but John bolted upright his face pale as the sheets.
"It's just Rumsfeld, Johnny."
The other man didn’t look convinced.
"It might not be, Bobby. It could be them."
John's reluctance to even say the word vampires left Bobby cold, but he shook his head.
"Not here. You know I have this place buttoned up tight. Nothing can get in."
"Salt won't work on them. And neither will Devil's Traps."
Bobby patted his arm.
"I'll bring the crossbow in, and a machete. If it'll make you feel better."
John looked like he didn't want Bobby to leave but he nodded. And when the older man propped the crossbow up against the side of the bed beneath John's hand he seemed to relax a little. Bobby placed a machete on one nightstand and a large hunting knife on the table beside John. That calmed the younger man even more.
"I put dead man's blood on the window sills. It'll probably stink to high heaven come morning, but it'll wash off just fine. You need to get some sleep."
John nodded, watching as the other man walked to the bedroom door. He left the light on low and left the door open. But John couldn’t sleep. Fear coiled in his belly and he flinched at every movement of the trees outside. The shadows seemed to take on new meaning as the wind whispered across the house.
He struggled upright, panting. Sweat broke on his forehead and John felt a dull ache in his chest. Desperately he wanted to call out for Bobby, but was ashamed. John settled for watching the window. Cocking his head he listened intently, but no further movements could be heard.
Bobby rolled over in bed. He had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the faint sounds of movement in the other room. John was restless, starting at every sound and Bobby knew he was going exhaust himself. With a sigh he padded across the hall and looked in the door. Sure enough the younger man was sitting up in bed staring at the window.
He walked into the room and John blushed, embarrassed at being caught out.
"I'm sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you."
"To tell you the truth I am kinda worried about those vampires. I was having trouble sleeping."
"Oh well, I'll keep watch. I'm not tired myself," John said offering Bobby a weak grin. Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Move over," he hissed lifting the blankets. John blinked then finally eased over to the side of the bed. Bobby climbed in lying down. "Come on lay down, Johnny. We both need to get some sleep."
Nodding John lay back bumping against Bobby's arm. Without a word Bobby rolled over a bit, shoulder dipping, and slid an arm beneath John's shoulders. Swallowing his pride John shifted until his head was resting on Bobby's shoulder and the other man could wrap his arms around John. Sheltered in Bobby's clam presence John drifted off to sleep.
Sometime during the night Bobby woke to the sound of John screaming. The words were incoherent but the tone was more than familiar. John was terrified. He bolted upright hands clenched around the quilt. Bobby leaned over flipping on the light. With a grunt Bobby grabbed the other man by the shoulders and John slammed his fist into Bobby's face. His head rocked back, but John was up and off the bed before he could move. Fingering his jaw Bobby slid out of the bed and held out a hand in a calming gesture.
"John," Bobby whispered quietly. "John…just calm down. Nobody's gonna hurt you."
John stood in the corner shivering.
"Please Dean don't…don't hurt Daddy. Please don't do this to me again."
The begging wrung Bobby's heart and in one horrified instant he realized that Dean was the one who had raped John. Then he flinched as another thought crossed his mind, maybe Sammy had hurt his father as well. If John had been tortured and raped by his sons then he may be too far gone for Bobby to deal with. He needed to call Jim Murphy in the morning, but right now he needed to calm John down.
"John, you're safe. Okay we're at my house …remember? Here at my house and all locked up safe and sound. John, baby, you hear me?"
"Bobby?" John murmured finally looking around the room as if he hadn't seen it before. "Bobby…did you just call me baby?"
With a grim smile Bobby nodded feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, "Uh yeah I guess I did. You can kick my ass later in the morning, okay. Let's go back to bed."
"Bed," John said turning around a frown creasing his forehead. He blinked looking at the bedcovers strung around the floor in disarray. With a guilty expression quickly he gathered up the sheets and quilt smoothing them over the bed before climbing inside.
When Bobby climbed in beside him John turned to face the other man.
"What happened to your cheek?"
"You nailed me a good one," Bobby said. Then at John's horrified grimace he smiled. "It's okay you were indisposed."
With the light off Bobby lay back waiting to see if John would fall asleep. The other man seemed nervous and shifted restlessly on the bed. Finally he rolled over and even in the darkened room Bobby could tell he was embarrassed. John coughed then scooted closer to the older man.
"Bobby, would you…Can I sort of lean against you?"
Bobby turned over sliding his arms around John and letting the other man put his head on Bobby's shoulder. They lay there for a while until he could feel John stop trembling. With a yawn Bobby sighed as John slipped into a light doze. Finally, John huffed out a breath.
"You can call me baby, if you want too."
"Okay," Bobby whispered against John's skin. He pressed a quick kiss against John's temple. "Go to sleep… baby."
Bobby woke slowly, at first, unsure of where he was. The sunlight streaming through the window was on the wrong side of the room. He frowned until there was movement on the side of the bed behind him. It had been a long time since Bobby had slept with anyone, and longer still since that anyone had ended up at his house. In Bobby’s bed...even if this wasn’t exactly his bed.
Rolling over Bobby came face to face with John. The bruises on his cheek and temple were dark and ugly, marring the smooth olive flesh. And Bobby could see the deep gash under the bruise on John’s cheek following the line of the scar the other man already had.
The puncture wounds on his neck and shoulder were less evident with John facing him, but still visible although the angry swelling had subsided considerably from the antibiotic.
Bobby reached out to stroke the younger man’s face but, recalling the result of his last uninvited touch, hesitated. John blushed, and then closed his eyes briefly. Blinking sleepily he offered the older man a grin that threatened to become a full-fledged smile until the cut on his lip broke open and he thought the better of it.
John eased closer and Bobby opened his arms. With the younger man snugged securely against his shoulder Bobby looked over John’s head and out the window. The sunlight was glaring against the glass but with John a warm, heavy weight in his arms Bobby didn’t feel any pressing urge to move.
After an hour of listening to John’s gentle uneven snoring Bobby realized that he really needed to take a leak. Sighing he eased out from under the other man, muttering some gentle nonsensical sounds over John’s grunted objections, and headed to the bathroom.
It was five days before John mentioned going to look for Sam and Dean. Bobby supposed he should be grateful for that much time. He was hustling around the truth with John and he knew that all hell was going to break loose when John finally remembered what happened. Still Bobby was able to fend John off by telling him he wasn't physically up to the task yet, and as much as John hated to admit it he knew it was the truth. So John researched the vampires' movements as much as possible, which turned out to be hard because they were keeping a low profile, and worked on getting back in shape. Bobby was happy with the younger man's progress physically, but he knew John was holding back emotionally.
John only mentioned being raped in his sleep. Bobby was sleeping with John every night, and he was accustomed to being awakened at least once a night by John’s pleading cries. It broke his heart to hear it, and it made him furious at the same time. Some nights John begged Sam to leave him alone. Some nights he begged the boys to leave each other alone. But most nights it was John pleading for some mercy from Dean as if the vampires had corrupted the best part of the boys’ relationships with their family.
And John was violent some nights. For the second time Bobby was sporting a bruised cheek, this time from a hard right hook that John dished out not asleep but awake. He was sorry afterwards and Bobby didn’t blame him. They had gone to bed around , as usual, and Bobby woke a little while later curled around John’s broad back. He gulped when he realized he had been dreaming about screwing John. They had been going at it pretty hot and heavy and Bobby was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was hard as a rock. John woke to the feeling of a hard cock digging into his ass. He uttered one hoarse shout and bolted upright in the bed. A hand fell on his arm and John lashed out. There was a satisfying thud that racked his arm and shoulder followed by a hissed, indrawn breath.
He was up and out of the bed before the fog cleared from his brain. John stood trembling as a dark figure shuffled out of the bed hand pressed to his nose. In the pale light falling through the window he watched as the shadowy figure reached back to turn on the light. That confused him because ‘they’ never turned on the lights, never needed too.
Bobby moved around the bed one hand held out as if to fend John off the other wiping a thin stream of blood off his upper lip. John felt a hot wave of shame wash over him. He gulped, hating the rush of hot tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. Roughly he scrubbed at his eyes.