Topeka, Kansas
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
“I don’t know about this, Sam. I don’t want to spill my guts to a stranger.”
“There’s no way around it. You’re going to have to go to a doctor whether you want to or not, and I know you want to... get well as soon as possible. Either you’re going to have to have surgery now, or later, and if it’s later, then you'll need someone to check up on you. Missouri said that Dr. Hughes is very good, and won’t run off to tell everybody about our private business.”
Dean folded his arms stubbornly and stared at Sam. Sam was stretched out on their bed, in yet another old hotel in another town, with the phone book opened in front of him. “I bet he’s never had a pregnant man in his office, either. And Missouri doesn’t know the whole story.”
“He’s a she. Her name is Lisa. I have her number right here. We can call and make an appointment, and if you start getting a bad feeling about her, then you just walk out. Okay?”
Dean shrugged and said nothing. He held his EMF meter in front of himself and turned it on; nothing happened. Even when he pointed it at his stomach, the meter gave no reading.
“You’re not going to get a reading,” Sam said. “It’s a human baby. Yours and mine. Now are you going to call, or am I?”
Someone knocked on the door. Sam jumped up and ran to it, then looked out the peephole. “It’s Dad,” he whispered.
Dean clapped the phone book closed as soon as the door started to open and arranged himself casually on the mattress. “Dad,” he said.
Without fanfare, John entered the room and closed the door behind him. The corners of his mouth turned up. “I see you’re both still alive,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“The usual. It’s good to see you again, though.”
“Dad, we found a spirit,” Sam said. “I don’t know who or what it is, but it was resting in a well for about sixty years. Granting wishes to people who called upon it, and then killing them in gruesome ways on the next October 31. Here. I’ll show you.” Sam opened up a brand-new white binder with a few pages of computer printouts in it. “I got most of these from libraries. There aren’t deaths every year “ at least, not that we can tell. I don’t think it matters how far the wishers go from the well, though. They die. There could be a lot more that we don’t know about and we can’t go through sixty years’ worth of obituaries all over the country.”
“It’s probably the spirit of a person,” said John. “An angry person who had some power in life, and in death it got stronger. Find the corpse and burn it. You didn’t need me to come all the way from Sacramento for this.”
“Dad, the spirit isn’t in the well anymore. I don’t think the corpse was there, and nobody lives around there anymore or remembers who did. We tried to find out more, but all we know is that there was a couple who had a farm in the forties, after World War Two. Eugene and Laura. No kids, no relatives. Laura disappeared in 1947, and Eugene moved a few months later - February or March of forty-eight. That’s it. He’s probably dead by now; he’s pushing ninety if he’s still alive.”
John nodded and sat down. “You remembered to check the well to see if her bones were in it, right?”
“Not at the time,” Dean admitted. “We figured out the pattern “ she gave wishes to the next person to get to the well “ so Sam and I both wished for her to stop. It seemed to work, but we didn’t know that the October 31 deaths were almost every year.”
“So, do it now.”
“That’s the problem. She’s not there. We looked in the well. We, uh, hired a guy to come in with X-ray equipment and he confirmed that there was nothing there, nothing but a bunch of coins and a few small animal bones. Rocks, too, and a little bit of garbage. That’s all.”
They’d actually smuggled Joshua out for part of a night and practically forced him to go with them, which was the better of two bad options; the other one was to actually climb down into the well without knowing what, if anything, was in it.
Sam and Dean shared some of they’d learned about the well with John, who took it in calmly and nodded in all the right places. “You’re right,” he said. “This is a big problem, but I’m confident that the two of you can handle it. You have ways to find out where Eugene went, and track him down. If he’s dead, somebody knows about him, and will talk. Come on. I’ve taught you better than this.” He looked at them each in turn. “What? If there’s something you’re not telling me, I need to know about it.”
“I told you about Amanda and her wish,” said Dean. “I was the one who went to the well next after her. I didn’t know it at the time “ we thought that it was just us and Joshua. And now I got what she wanted, and, uh, I’m due in November.”
“October,” Sam corrected. "Last half of October."
“What? Dean, this isn’t a joke.” John stared at him, impassively and coldly, the look of the unhappy drill sergeant.
“I’m not joking,” Dean said. “I wish I was making this up. Your son is pregnant. You’re going to be a grandfather.”
John’s eyes traveled down to a point near Dean’s navel. When wearing a jacket, Dean could hide the evidence of his condition, but now that he wore only pants and a T-shirt, the swelling in his lower abdomen was visible. John exhaled loudly, and it was a moment before he spoke again. “So this Laura, she’s really an incubus, one who can impregnate men? There’s never been anything like that, not in any legends I’ve ever read. If you’re telling me the truth, then that means there are two spirits working together.”
“Maybe it was Eugene,” Sam said.
“That is a little bit less like nonsense, but I still think there’s something more you’re not telling me. Even an incubus couldn’t do this unless there was some kind of attraction to begin with. One wouldn’t have any success with a man unless he was a homosexual.”
“I’m not,” Dean snapped. “There was Wendy in high school, Misty a few years ago...”
“I am not buying this, Dean.” John started to shake, and visibly steeled himself. “There must have been men, too.”
“Maybe once or twice,” he admitted.
“How long ago?”
“Matt was five years ago. Derek, uh, maybe one and a half. Or two years. Yeah. I’m sure it was two.”
John’s face scrunched in that I’m-a-tough-man-I’m-not-gonna-cry way. “This is your mess now. You handle it. I can’t believe you, Dean. After everything I’ve taught you “ you’re supposed to be out there finishing jobs! Saving people’s lives, not hooking up with random men across the country!”
“There are five lives at stake right now,” Sam cut in. “Joshua, Melissa, Amanda, Dean, and me. We barely have five months before the 31st of October!”
“That’s more than enough time, boys.” John stood up and then made his way towards the door, but he stopped before he got to it and turned around. “Sam?”
“What, Dad?”
“Did you see the incubus? Or know when it came, somehow?”
“No, not really.”
“Then how the hell did you know Dean’s due date?”
“I didn’t. I’m just, uh, guessing. From when his symptoms started.”
“You know who the father is, and it’s not any kind of spirit. It’s a person. And you weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“I didn’t think it was important.” Sam withered under John’s glare.
“He might be connected to this problem with the well, and if you want to get to the bottom of it, then he’s the place to start. I’m washing my hands of this, right now.” He looked Sam up and down as the younger man shrank back, then closed his eyes tightly. “Sam, I am going to ask you one time and I want a straight answer. Are you the father of Dean’s baby?”
“Dad ““ Sam’s voice broke and he felt his eyes begin to burn. “I’m sorry. I-“
“The two of you disgust me. You dishonor your mother’s memory. She destroyed her own spirit to save the two of you, and now you... I’m finished. Don’t ever call me again!” John stormed out of the room and let the door slam closed behind him.
“Wait!” Sam cried, and he threw the door open. But John had already turned the corner and didn’t answer the yell. Sam pressed his forehead into the doorframe, a part of him wanting to chase his father down and deny everything, and the other part simply not wanting to go back into the room and face Dean. He’d done exactly what he was not supposed to do: confess, even if his confession wasn’t the kind that would hold up in a court of law. It did the damage even while implicit.
“Dean, please don’t be mad at me,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t lie to him. He’s our father. I’ve always been a bad liar and sometimes I think he can read me like a book. Dean?”
Sam turned around. Dean was now standing by the window and staring out of it, with his arms hanging at his sides. He moved forward and leaned against the window, and Sam was beside him in the time it took to cross the room in a few long strides. “I tried. I really did,” Sam said.
“I know.” Dean didn’t look at Sam for almost an entire minute, and before he turned his head, he pressed the sleeve of his shirt against his face. Sam did his best to pretend he didn’t notice the wet spots on Dean’s sleeve and the liquid redness in his eyes. “We can do this. We’ll do just what he said “ we’ll find out what happened to Eugene and start from there. Maybe he’ll get over it. Maybe if we just stop he’ll get over it and forgive us. We deal with a lot of evil, Sam. Some might be powerful enough to put a... a lust spell over us. He might believe it.”
What? “Do you even hear what you’re saying? That you’d say all these months we’ve been together “ over a year now “ weren’t even real?”
“Sam, Dad isn’t talking to us now. All my life I’ve done everything I could to be a good son. I’ve always done everything he told me even when I didn’t want to. And now he’s gone, all because of one stupid mistake.”
Sam couldn’t have felt more stricken even if Dean had reached out and punched him in the face. He sublimated his dejection into fury. “Fine, if that’s how you feel about me.” Sam grabbed their suitcase and started throwing Dean’s clothes out of it.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”
Sam snapped the case shut and picked it up. “I’m going down to the lobby to check in to my own hotel room. I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted,” he said, and marched towards the slightly open door.
“Sam, get back here! You can’t just walk out on me like this!”
“Oh, yeah? Watch me.”
“How do you plan on getting around without a car?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“And what about finding Eugene? Joshua doesn’t deserve to be stuck in a mental hospital just because you’re in a bad mood.”
Sam dropped the suitcase and turned around. “I thought you said that being with me was a 'stupid mistake.'”
“I “ listen to me. It came out wrong. You know how much I respect our father, how much what he says means to me. And we need him right now. But we have a job to do and we need to do it, and not let other stuff get in the way, with or without him. Okay?”
“Okay.” It wasn’t quite an apology, and Sam remained unconvinced that Dean’s words were just an outburst, but he was right. They did have an important task. Sam sat back down on the bed and pulled the laptop computer over his thighs; at least it gave him something else to think about. “So, Eugene was born in 1918, and he’s a veteran of World War Two.” He typed into a few fields and pressed the “Find” button. “The name search pulled up 107 listings, but there isn’t any information about the years they were born. And it only lists people who were alive as of 2005. Still, it shouldn’t take long to go through the list. I’ll work on this and you call Dr. Hughes’ office. Tuesdays are good; there won’t be as many other people coming in.”
“What if we’re busy on the appointment day?”
“Then you reschedule.”
Sam was able to work through half of the list that afternoon and evening, eliminating 46 out of 50 names and adding the other four to a shorter list of people to research in more detail. He saved his search results and switched the laptop off.
He was too hungry to continue, so he walked two blocks to a small Chinese food take-out restaurant and returned with a pair of covered Styrofoam trays and a box of fried rice. Sam left most of the rice for Dean and jabbed a piece of orange chicken with his fork.
“Thanks,” Dean said, and took the second tray.
“Cheaper than room service,” Sam said.
“You know, you could just say ‘you’re welcome.’”
“All right. You’re welcome.”
Dean smiled around a mouthful of broccoli and beef. “And I’m, uh, sorry about what I said earlier.”
“Hey, man, you were mad and upset. Happens to the best of us.”
“Does this mean we can forget about it?”
Sam nodded. “Sure.”
Dean got out of his seat to get a can of soda from the twelve-pack sitting next to the television. On his way back, he stopped next to Sam’s chair, and pressed his lips against Sam’s for a few seconds.
Sam couldn’t keep his heart from speeding up “ it had been too long since they’d even kissed like that. Weeks, he realized. But he only shook his head and said, “You don’t have to prove to me that you still want me.”
“Why do you always think everything is about you?” Dean asked. He looked hurt when he sat down heavily and dug back into his dinner.
“What are you saying, Dean? That you think I wouldn’t want you anymore? That’s ridiculous. You were mad earlier, and so was I. We both said things we didn’t mean.”
“Look at me, Sam.”
Sam fixed his eyes on Dean’s, but Dean got back up and stood up straight next to the table, making no move to bunch and blouse his green T-shirt. “My body is changing. It’s not just my fucking waistline, either. My hips are getting wider, and that’s not extra weight. My bones are spreading. It’s disgusting, and there’s nothing I can do about it right now.”
So that’s why he’s been so moody, thought Sam. Well, beyond the obvious stresses, and the fact that his hormones had to be a mess. “In a couple of weeks, it’ll be over,” Sam said. “You’re going to see the doctor on Tuesday “ that’s six days away. Maybe they can get you into the hospital right away for the… surgery.” Sam couldn’t bring himself to say ‘abortion’ “ not when the baby was his. He knew that it was up to Dean “ after all, it wasn’t Sam’s health on the line - and that carrying the child to term would probably be extremely dangerous. Not worth the risk of losing Dean. He slid into a slightly different topic to avoid being lost in his thoughts and evoke too many questions: “And it’s not going to take us very long to find Eugene. If he’s still alive, it’ll be easy. If not… then we might have a little more digging to do, but we have handled tougher jobs than this.”
“Never mind.” Dean started to sit back down.
“Wait a minute. You thought “ you thought that I wouldn’t want to be with you anymore? Just because your figure isn’t perfect? Come on, you know me better than that. Look at me, then. All limbs and bones. And that’s never stopped you before.”
“This is a little different.”
“I don’t mind, Dean. I’m the one at fault, anyway.”
“You always find a way to blame yourself, don’t you.”
“That’s not the point.” Sam was desperate to get Dean out of his sour mood. “Listen, come here. Come over to me. He reclined on the bed and held out one of his arms.
Dean raised his eyebrows, but did as Sam suggested, and lay next to him. “I still want you,” Sam whispered. “I promise.”
“Great. Now we have to hug like girls, don’t we.”
Sam answered by leaning down and tilting his head to the side, then brushing his lips against Dean’s. “It’s up to you. And, you know, you’re going to have some recovery time. Maybe a week before you’re even out of bed much, after you go into the hospital, and for being back to full health “ it could be a few weeks after that.”
“And?”
“And that means we don’t have a lot of time before then. If we want to enjoy each other, we’d better do it now.”
“So… so I’ve still got my mojo, huh?”
“Definitely.” Feeling Dean’s shoulders pressed against his arm, and smelling him so close, had an effect on Sam “ he could already feel the beginnings of warmth in his shorts. That had never really changed, although he’d held back lately, slipping away to the bathroom to take care of himself instead of bothering Dean.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” Dean said, and Sam was about to push him away when he realized that he was just being teased.
“Then I guess I’m going to have to give you a chance to prove it.” Sam peeled off his shirt and shorts and stretched out on the bed. “Come on, Dean. Just like you did that night in Philadelphia.”
“You’re sure, Sam?”
“Fuck, yes.” He reached down and touched his dick, all the while staring into Dean’s green eyes. He felt it go from half-hard to very rigid in his hand, and he never looked away, focusing only on Dean as he pumped himself to full arousal.
Dean hesitantly climbed on top of Sam, over him on his hands and knees, and kissed him. The kiss rapidly went from soft to crushingly hard, with both of them simultaneously sucking and licking the mouth of the other. It’s been so, so long, Sam thought, and he thought he could never get enough, wanting more, more, hoping that kiss wouldn’t end.
But it did end. Sam bucked up, frustrated, and Dean whispered in his ear: “Roll over for me.”
Oh, yeah. He could do that. Sam obeyed immediately, and felt the bed bounce as Dean got off of it, then climbed back on. “Dean?”
“What?”
“Can I turn around and see you? Just for a few seconds.”
“Why, Sam?”
“Because you’re hot, and I want to look at you.”
Sam twisted around and saw Dean kneeling behind him. Dean was flushed and already glistening a little with lust and heat, and Sam watched his chest heave. He was obviously as hard and ready as Sam was, and Sam turned back around and pushed his bottom up into the air, shoulders pressed into the blanket. “All right, Dean. Now you can fuck me.”
He sighed happily and groaned into the pillows as Dean pumped his fingers in and out of his ass, loosening him up, making him push backwards and want more, now, don’t keep me waiting, I can’t take it much longer. And then there were hands on his hips, to hold him steady, and he felt the blunt, slow pressure of Dean pushing inside him. It was enough to force all the breath out of his lungs; he felt stretched out and filled up, completed.
The first few thrusts were gentle, dragging out the pleasure of each stroke over several seconds but never coming close to quenching the fire that was starting to burn from within. Sam found himself rocking his hips back and forth to speed Dean up, and then they both moved faster, harder, like their lives, running from one thing to the next. Intense, thrilling, breathtaking, leaving them spent but knowing every minute was worth the exhaustion. Sweat ran down Sam’s chest, from his navel to his collarbones. How had he gone without Dean’s touch for three weeks? He didn’t know and then he couldn’t think; he could only move. Slammed his pelvis backwards, felt the backs of his thighs press against the fronts of Dean’s, over and over. Words and wordless sounds tumbled from his mouth.
Dean jerked behind him with a grunt and a moan, then pulled back. “Sorry, babe, you’re a little tighter than I remembered,” he whispered.
Sam turned his head, gasping, and looked desperately at Dean, who now lay next to him, looking dazed and sleepy. He must not have been as dazed as he appeared, though, because he reached up and rubbed Sam’s cock, thumb tracing circles around the head, fingers squeezing and stroking. Sam felt the building pressure, I’m coming, Dean, oh god, don’t stop, please, finish me off. He cried out incoherently, face pressed into the bleached pillowcase, and came in pale threads all over the blanket and Dean’s hand.
Sam rested for a few minutes, not caring that he was sticky and messy, but then he helped Dean peel off the blanket and they lay on top of the sheets instead. Dean held Sam possessively, because holding and protecting Sam wasn’t the same as hugging him. And Sam was perfectly okay with that, as long as he could be close to Dean. Maybe they were going to be all right, after all. If they could keep from thinking about their father and the challenges that lay before them, forget for just a few hours, and enjoy the silence.
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