SquidgeWorld Archive

John Winchester stood trembling in the dank, dirty boiler room of St. Mary Margret's Hospital. He was bone tired, hurting, and his son was dying. He had the look of a man with nothing left to lose. The gun never wavered in is hand, and that kept the demon at bay. With a grin the demon cocked his head.

"The gun isn't enough; you'll have to do better than that."

"All right, I'll trade you my soul," John said letting his head drop. But instead of the mocking laughter he had expected the thing in front of him fell silent. John rocked back on his heels, letting his head drop to the side ever so slightly.

"Not good enough. I would have thought..."

"It's not that Johnny-boy. I'd love to have your soul, but not under these circumstances. If you gave me your soul to save your boy, it would be an act of selflessness and sacrifice in the cause of good. Well, I can't allow that, can I? Besides you'd go..." he smiled pointing up at the ceiling, but John got the meaning. "I couldn't collect. But I really want you out of the way. So I'm willing to cut you a deal. I can give you what you want, oh no...not little Mary, she gave her soul for them already. There's no bringing her back now. What is it with you people? But you know where Mary is, where she hides her smile, where she's still warm and alive. You'd give anything to have those hands on you, to lie down close to that body at night, to feel him slide inside of you."

John jerked the gun toward the lying bastard.

"Shut up. I don't want..."

But in the back of his mind John knew you couldn't lie to a demon. They were the master of all lies after all. John's hand shook as an image of Dean lying on top of him flashed into his mind.

"He's my son. I can't...I won't do that."

"What if he wasn't your son? What if I could give you what you want without the guilt and shame? You could have your cake and eat it, too. No pun intended. Of course, this silly little vendetta that you've got going would stop. It would all just go away. You could live your life without being mired in all this evil. No more responsibility for saving the world. I know you've thought about it John, thought about having a life that was all your own."

John smiled bitterly.

"You don't have the power to do that. I know you're lying."

"Give it a shot Johnny-boy, before you turn it down...."

Suddenly John felt the room tilt. His head spun. A clattering noise echoed and re-echoed in the room. John felt his stomach lurch and he staggered then bent over retching.

John's hands grasped the edged of the basin, as he felt what little he had in his stomach coming up. He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. He had been sick for the past week, something one of the boys had brought home from school he supposed. Grumbling he decided to forgo shaving this morning in favor of getting Sam and Ben to school on time.

"Boys," he shouted as he pulled his khaki uniform shirt on over his t-shirt and buttoned it. But the door to the boys' room was open. He frowned. "Sam, Ben...you two had better be ready for school. Mrs. Murphy is going to be here in a minute."

The two boys in question, Sam fifteen and Ben eleven were in the den in front of a large wood frame and chain link cage. Inside the cage was a climbing tree and a large platform with a dog bed on it. Inside the bed was Sam's pet monkey, Jack. Jack was a Rhesus monkey, small and light brown with darker brown hands and feet. His brown eyes peered out of the blankets and he hopped up as soon as the boys walked in the room. Chirping happily Jack bounced out of the tree and across the cage clambering up Sam's arm to rest on his shoulder.

"Damn," Sam swore softly so that his father wouldn't hear.

Ben gasped then clamped his hand over his mouth giggling.

"Is it too cold in here for you, boy?" Sam said addressing his question to Jack.

The monkey uttered a string of syllables then tugged on Sam's bangs.

"Come on lets get you warmed up."

Sam carried Jack into the kitchen and turned the oven on low. He had done this a hundred times since he gotten Jack for his last birthday. He pulled the stove door down and let the monkey hop onto it. Jack wallowed around on the door, then settled near the opening letting the warmth wash over his tiny body.

The sound of tires crunching in the gravel driveway caught both boys' attention, and they rushed into the living room to see if it was Dean's Impala. But they were disappointed when it turned out to be the Buick sedan carrying the slight form of Mrs. Murphy the house-keeper provided for them by the city. John had only been elected sheriff the month before and the good people of Lawrence, Kansas decided to show their appreciation to the newly elected official by providing the single father with a cook and house-keeper in the form of Joan Murphy.

Jack didn't bother going to greet Mrs. Murphy since he and she had a strained relationship at best. If he had the metal capacity to understand what the term filthy, little beast actually meant it might have been much worse. He chirped to himself then bounced on the oven door. Sam had been slightly careless this morning though, not letting the door catch in the fully open position, and the door snapped upwards catapulting Jack into the dark cavern of the oven itself.

"Good morning Mrs. Murphy," Sam said as he met her at the door. Taking her coat and hat he hung them on the rack and watched her head into the kitchen. Leaning around the banister at the bottom of the steps he yelled.

"Hey Dad, Mrs. Murphy is here. We've got to go in thirty minutes."

John found his gun holster and strapped it on. Then tugged his sheepskin lined suede jacket off the back of the chair at the foot of the bed. His stomach had settled some, and was feeling much better.

Joan Murphy liked the new sheriff, and loved the boys. They were well mannered and the older one Sam went to school with her granddaughter Jessica. In fact she felt that he and Jessica were a good match and was conniving to get them together. Humming to herself she pulled the ingredients for biscuits out of the cabinet and turned the oven on. She frowned the oven was already set for low, and she made a mental note to remind the boys to turn it all the way off if they used it at night.

She had just finished mixing the biscuits when she heard a sound coming from the oven, a scratching, thumping sound. Suddenly the front door of the oven bumped open a bit from the inside. With a frown she put the pan of bread on the stovetop and pulled the door the rest of the way open.

Something small and fast launched itself out of the confines of the oven and grasped Mrs. Murphy's neck. Hot hands grabbed her throat and she screamed.

"Oh God in heaven, sheriff...sheriff..."

Mrs. Murphy clutched at the thing that had her head in a vise-grip and shrieked again.

"Oh God, oh God! There's a demon in the kitchen!"

John hit the stairs at a dead run skidded on the landing and took the rest two at a time. He almost collided with Sam and Ben as they ran into the den. Mrs. Murphy was flailing around in the middle of the kitchen with Jack on her head, and her face practically going blue.

"What the hell?" John shouted.

He whirled to face his older son.

"Get that thing off her!" he motioned to Sam.

The older boy made a grab for the elderly lady, but she evaded him. John jumped around the bar and grabbed her by the shoulders. Jack flew off Mrs. Murphy's head and slammed into Ben who tripped over his own feet and crashed into the bar. Sam scurried over to his younger brother and hauled him to his feet checking for lumps or bruises that were going to get him grounded if their father got pissed off badly enough.

Mrs. Murphy looked on the verge of collapse, and John thrust a finger at Sam.

"If that damn thing causes one more problem, I'm going to shoot it."

Ben looked horrified but Sam merely rolled his eyes. John pushed Mrs. Murphy into a chair at the breakfast table and pulled Ben over looking for injuries. Ben shook him off.

"Dad, you're not really going to shoot Jack are you."

Shaking his head Sam said,

"No he isn't, How many times in the past year has he said that, and Jack is still here."

"Yeah, well this time I might mean it."

They were interrupted by the sound of a huge engine rumbling up the driveway. John cocked his head and Ben scampered out of the room.

"Dean's here!" he shrieked as if the sound wasn't warning enough.

John sighed and smiled. Sam's reaction to the engine was more laid-back. He didn't shriek like an eleven year old, but he did give his father a cocky grin. John felt himself blushing.

They could hear Ben jumping Dean when he walked in the door. The creaking of a leather jacket and the thud of his younger son's body hitting the younger man made John smile. Sam was giving him a look that clearly said "Jeeze, Dad, get the goofy grin off your face," but he didn't care.

Dean had Ben over his shoulder when they came into the kitchen. He sat the boy down on the bar and leaned in putting his arms around John's waist and kissing him behind the ear. Grinning John turned so that he could kiss Dean again, and this time Dean pressed a kiss on the older man's lips. The boys groaned, moaning about no mushy stuff before they ate, but Dean just shrugged at them.

"Good morning, everybody," he said, ducking back as Jack bounded off the bar, and seized him by the front of the jacket.

Dean petted the little creature, and Sam quickly retrieved Jack and took him to his cage. John was still frowning both at the monkey and his older son. With a grin Dean nodded at the scattered mess in the kitchen.

"It looks like we've had some excitement this morning."

"Boys, sit down let's get some food into you," John said.

Sam pulled bowls and cereal out of the cabinet while Ben got the milk out. John patted Mrs. Murphy on the shoulder.

"Joan, do you need to go to the emergency room?"

"Oh heavens no. It was just that filthy little beast," she said.

John noticed Sam forming the words with her as she spoke and tossed a threatening look in his direction. Cowed Sam bent over his breakfast.

Sam let himself into the house after school. His dad's truck was parked in the driveway, but the Sheriff's four-wheel drive jeep that he used during the days was not there. He went to Jack's cage and opened the door. The little monkey chattered and chirped but declined to jump on Sam's arm. With a shrug he dumped his backpack on the floor beside the den sofa, and went to the kitchen to raid the fridge before dinner. Mrs. Murphy had left a note that she had been to the grocery store and that there was a snack for Sam and Ben on a plate covered with plastic wrap. They could have that and nothing else before dinner.

The door opened again and Ben trudged in looking like he was the most miserable human being in the whole world. Sam rolled his eyes.

"What's up, squirt?"

"I'm not a squirt."

"No, you're a dork, but what's up anyway?"

Sighing Ben dropped his backpack, and settled on a barstool beside the counter separating the kitchen from the den. He took the plate and half of the sub sandwich that Sam pushed over, and a can of Coke.

"Well, Katie Conner wants me to be her boyfriend, but Danny always gets mad when I hang out with her. Do you think that Danny wants me to be his boyfriend like Dean is Dad's boyfriend? Cause I'd rather be Katie's boyfriend than Danny's. I don't think I like boys like that, but how would I know? How did Dad know he likes boys?"

"First off, Dad doesn't just like boys. He loved Mom, and they were married. And he loves Dean, and maybe they'll get married. It not just liking boys or girls okay? It's liking a particular boy or girl. Besides you're only eleven and you shouldn't even be thinking about things like that anyway."

"Do you really think that Dad and Dean will get married?"

"If Dean asks Dad."

"Why don't you think Dad would ask Dean to marry him?" Ben said.

"I think he thinks it's disrespectful to Mom. But she's been dead for almost eleven years..."

"Since I was six months old," Ben provided.

Sam smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow, I'm telling Dad that you're an abusive older sibling."

"Abusive older sibling, where did you hear that? Anyway I hope that Dad does marry Dean. He smiles a lot more when Dean is around. As for you and Katie, why don't you give it a few years? You know what they say, if it's really love it'll still be there tomorrow."

Ben cocked his head at Sam.

"What does that mean?"

"The hell if I know. But I do know that I'm going to ask Jessica Moore to the prom. That's Mrs. Murphy's granddaughter. She's really nice and smart and I know Dad will like her."

"Not to mention she has really big bazooms," Ben said with a grin.

Sam flushed.

"Ben, they are not bazooms. It's her bosom. Dad would not want you to call them bazooms."

"Dad calls them tits."

Sam's mouth fell open.

"If Dad ever hears you say that you'll be doing push-ups until your arms fall off."

John was practically dozing over his beer bottle. His shirt was open and un-tucked over the white t-shirt and his boots where on the floor at his feet. John was on one end of the sofa with his back against the sofa arm, and his left arm stretched over the sofa back. Dean was at the opposite end of the sofa with John's feet in his lap. He was rubbing John's left foot while the other man groaned appreciatively. With a grin the younger man dropped his beer bottle gently on the table, and pushed John's feet off his lap into the floor. He slid down the sofa and wrapped an arm around John's shoulders.

"Hey," he whispered, "Let's go to bed."

John cocked his head at the clock over the fire place.

"It's only seven-thirty. The boys will make a fuss if we try to put them to bed now."

"I don't mean put the boys to bed. You and me, let's go upstairs to bed."

John flushed as understanding finally hit him.

"The boys are..."

"John, the boys will be fine. Sam is studying, and Ben is watching TV. They won't even notice if we skip out for forty-five minutes or so."

Dean rose pulling the other man up with him. John cast a glance over his shoulder at his sons, but Sam had his head in a book, and Ben seemed to be totally absorbed in Spongebob. John blushed again.

Dean had spent the night before, after all he and John had been dating eight months. And John was pretty sure that Sam knew that Dean and John had sex. Neither one of the boys had ever mentioned the fact that John slept with his bedroom door closed and locked when Dean was over. But they had also been pretty low-key about it too. Never had they actually gone up to the room to make love when the boys were up and around.

In fact, the first time that he and Dean had had sex was in the back of John's truck in the garage after they had taken the boys to a football game at the high school. It was late and Sam had half carried Ben up to their room. John and Dean had sat in the garage looking over the engine of the truck and drinking beer when one thing lead to another and the next thing John knew he was flat on his back in the truck bed, with Dean on top of him.

Dean tugged on his hand, and John quickly looked over his shoulder again. Neither of the boys had moved. He didn't notice Sam glancing over the top of the book as John and Dean disappeared up the stairs to the bedroom. Sam actually smiled; if Dad was getting that brave about Dean then he was sure to become a permanent fixture around the house sometime soon.

John gently closed the door to his bedroom, and quickly began striping off his clothes. Dean was well ahead of him; in fact John had once mentioned that Dean could strip faster than a twenty dollar hooker. Which lead to a long and convoluted conversation between the two about John's propensity for frequenting hookers. John had been appalled stammering that he had never, until he had realized that Dean was laughing at him.

Dean finished dropping his clothes on the floor and tugged the comforter and sheets down on the bed. He rolled onto one side when John crawled up the foot of the bed and settled beside the younger man. Dean leaned down for a kiss. Grinning Dean marveled at how far their relationship had come. Especially since he had had a hard time getting John to go out with him in the beginning.

He had taken it slow knowing that John had not dated after his wife's death years before. After a month of careful pursuit, John has finally caved in and agreed to the first date. It had been endearing to Dean and a little daunting when John had admitted, after they had made love the first time, that he had been celibate for ten years.

Now, after eight months, they were good together. Dean was more aggressive, and John allowed him to guide the relationship. John sighed and pulled Dean down, pushing his tongue into the younger man's mouth.

Dean scrubbed his hand over John's cheek, "You should skip shaving more often. I like you kind of scruffy."

John offered a patently phony pout,

"You mean you don't just like me...period?"

With a sigh Dean bit John's neck. John pulled back as far as he could.

"No hickeys, I have sex-obsessed fifteen year old son who practically dusts me for fingerprints every time you leave."

With a grin Dean slid his hand down John's chest, and wrapped his palm around John, tugging.

"Does he dust you here?"

John's eyes slipped closed and his mouth fell open,

"Nobody's dusted that but you, or me, at least not in the last eight months, hell, the past ten years. Oh god, that's good. Don't stop, just do that and I'll die a happy man."

Dean rolled them over until he was over John. The older man pushed up, kissing Dean. He grunted when Dean stopped the gentle movements of his hand.

"Dean, god please just put your hands on me..."

"Where?" Dean whispered.

John shivered.

"Anywhere....god, everywhere."

The shower was running, and John could see the outline of Dean's body behind the frosted glass door. He sighed running his fingers over the damp skin on his chest. Quickly John pulled on a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He turned when there was a gentle tap on the door. Picking up his blue bathrobe John opened the door. He winced when he remembered that the bed was a mess. Sam was standing, eyes averted, in the hall. He shoved the phone at John.

"It's Mary Jo."

The water turned off and Dean appeared at the door naked. John waved him back until Sam got the idea and darted down the hall to the stairs. Tucking the phone under his chin John said,

"Yeah, Mary Jo calm down."

Dean frowned he knew that Mary Jo was the night dispatcher at the sheriff's substation where John worked. If she was calling him off duty, and during the night shift then something bad must have happened. From the look on John's face it was something really bad.

"Shit," John snapped. "Okay, send a patrol car over. I'll meet them there."

He dropped his bathrobe, and hurriedly pulled a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt on. Quickly he found his sneakers, and jacket. With a frown John pulled his holster and gun on making sure to fasten the holster securely.

"Dean, can you please call Joan Murphy and see if she can stay with the boys. I need to get out to Highway 74. There's a mess out there."

"I'll stay with the boys. I was hoping I was staying the night anyway," Dean said.

John nodded. Dean helped him into his jacket. John loped down the stairs, and Dean went into the den to tell the boys their Dad was going out on a call. He frowned following John to the door.

"I hate it when this happens."

"I'm the sheriff, it's what I do. I've been doing it for fifteen years."

"Yeah, most of the time I can forget that what you do is dangerous," Dean replied.

John paused leaning in for a quick kiss.

"Most of the time it's not. I mean this is Lawrence, Kansas not Los Angeles. In the past fifteen years I've pulled my gun maybe five times, and one of them was to shoot a rabid dog. It's a car wreck. Some trucker hit a car load of teenagers on Highway 74."

The blue lights of the jeep painted the curtains in the living room as Dean, Sam and Ben watched John pull out of the driveway and head off down the street. The neighbors were milling around their yards and front doors, and Sam knew it wouldn't be too long before someone got up the nerve to come over snooping for information. But Dad hadn't said anything to him or Ben, and he knew that Dean wouldn't say anything until he got word from the department that the information had been released.

John turned off Central Avenue onto state Highway 74. He had traveled about two miles when he came upon the accident site. The patrol car had beaten him to the scene. John pulled his jeep over on the shoulder. He picked his way carefully down the embankment and pulled up short.

A semi-truck had t-boned a black Ford Mustang and three boys, a bit older than Sam were dead in the passenger cabin. John stood, head cocked on one side and watched as the patrol officers waved the fire truck and paramedics through. As John turned surveying the path that the truck must have taken he could envision the truck barreling across the median and hitting the car.

Suddenly John's head swam. He gasped. The Mustang faded from John's sight to be replaced by Dean's Impala. John could "see" himself and an older Sam sitting in the front seat while Dean lay crumpled in the back. The big black semi rolled over the median and struck the Impala mid-cabin. The car screamed across the asphalt, slewing around and rode the nose of the truck down the embankment and into a grassy field beside the road.
John could even hear the sound of music, Creedance Clearwater Revival, pouring out of the open door of the semi's cab.

John staggered back. His head spun and suddenly he found himself sitting on the side of the road. One of the paramedics was standing over John but he couldn't hear what she was saying. He frowned, waving her away.

It was two am when he let himself in the door of the house. The house was quiet, the lights off except for the lamp on the night table in John's room. He walked passed the boys door, poking his head in briefly to make sure that Sam was asleep in his mezzanine bed over the captain's bed Ben occupied. John couldn't keep from climbing the steps up to the platform and making sure his older son was asleep, not laying dead on a table in the morgue. Sam rolled over glancing blearily up at his father and smiled. John pulled the blankets up and tucked them in.

"Go back to sleep, kiddo."

"Dean's worried about you."

"I know. I'm going to bed now."

John brushed Sam's hair back wondering just what had happened to him at the accident scene. Dean was still awake when John pulled the bedroom door closed behind him. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled into the bed. Rolling over Dean smiled at him.

"Mary Jo called. She said you fainted at the accident site."

John rolled his eyes.

"I didn't faint. Something about it hit me the wrong way, that's all."

"Okay, tough guy, you didn't faint. So what did happen?"

"Hell if I know. I thought I saw me and Sammy in the front seat of your Impala and you in the back and we were all beat to hell. It felt real. I almost felt the car rolling when the truck hit us, you know. And there was something else, not so much something I saw but something I thought that might be in the background, a man with yellow glowing eyes. One of Joan Murphy's demons I guess."

John slid down under the covers. Dean tugged him closer, resting John's head against Dean's shoulder.

"Try to get some sleep."

It took a long time for John to drift off to sleep. He rolled over and suddenly he found himself standing in a dark, foul smelling room, some kind of electrical room or maintenance area of a big building. A man was standing in front of him and John had his gun out. Except that it wasn't his service revolver he was holding it was an old fashioned kind of gun. The man smiled.

"I don't think that we're in Kansas anymore, Johnny-boy. Seen enough? It's a wonderful life isn't it?"

"Stop with the pop culture references. What are you trying to do, annoy me to death?" John hissed and the demon smiled.

"That was all just an illusion. You can't alter reality. How do I know what would happen if I let you change things?"

"Don't over estimate your importance in the scheme of things, John. I don't have to change the whole world just a little slice of it, and not much... just finagle it a bit. I even made you a sheriff. So you still can get the bad guys, just a different kind of bad guy. Everything that just happened to you was real. Don't believe me? Do a little inventory of your own body. Feel that burn in those muscles that haven't gotten any exercise for awhile. You can still feel his touch, hell; you can still feel the orgasm."

And the hell of it was that John could still feel it. He could feel the slight burn in his backside, and the warm languor of a recent orgasm. His hand wavered. The demon grinned.

"Why would you do that, after I spent twenty years killing your kind?"

"Hey you did me a favor knocking off the competition. So I've got no beef with you on a personal, guy to guy, kind of level. I'm perfectly willing to bide a little time; humans don't live that long cosmically speaking. I'm willing to wait another fifty years, so good old Papa John can die in bed with loving Dean by his side and the kids and grandkids all gathered around. If it gets you off my back now, and the neat trick is, you won't even remember me, so no guilt about crapping out on the hunt." The demon smiled, "One more little taste then we gotta cut a deal or Deano bites the big one."

John shot upright in bed panting. Dean rolled over and turned on the lamp. He leaned over taking in John's washed-out face.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I had a dream, hell, a nightmare I guess. That same thing I saw at the crash scene. I was talking to a man, he had yellow glowing eyes and I think he was some kind of demon."

Dean pulled him down.

"John, you really let this car wreck get to you. You didn't see you, me and Sam in the Impala. My car is right outside in the driveway beside your truck. Did that thing with Joan screaming about a demon in the kitchen when Jack jumped on her get to you?"

Shaking his head John sighed.

"I never told the boys, but Mary was a Catholic and she had a priest come out and bless the house when we got married, and moved in. She always believed in angels and demons, she kept a rosary by the front door. It didn't keep her from dying when the house burned down though."

Dean frowned.

"Maybe its stress, I think it's my fault...you know in the restaurant last week."

"No, it's not your fault. You just surprised me, that's all. I wasn't expecting it."

John smiled. Dean had taken him out to dinner to celebrate their eight month anniversary. They had been having a good time, and John had probably had a bit too much tequila to drink so when Dean had pulled a small, black leather box out of his pocket John had almost fallen out of his chair. He had managed to fend Dean off with a panicked expression, and by choking on his drink. John thought that the gagging and the snot running down his nose had also helped sidetrack the discussion. But Dean was resilient and he had been back the next day so John was treading on eggshells and still trying to dodge that bullet.

Dean was under a classic '57 Chevy Bel Air when Bobby Singer kicked his foot. He slid out from under the car and grinned at his friend. Bobby had offered Dean half interest in the garage and junk yard, and was surprised when Dean had finally agreed to take the deal. Wiping his hands on a rag Dean let the older man haul him to his feet.

"Bill Johnson called," Bobby said and Dean remembered that Bill was Bobby's lawyer. "He said he has the papers all figured out for the deal on the garage. I thought we'd close up shop and go get 'em signed."

Dean nodded,

"So I guess if I do this I really am planning on settling down in Lawrence for good."

"Hell, Deano, I thought that John Winchester pretty much decided that for you. You gonna make an honest man out of him anytime soon."

"I tried; he almost choked to death on tequila, and then ran."

"That's tough. Well, just hang in there Deano. He'll come around. You've still been keeping company at John's house so you two are okay? I mean everything is copasetic in the sack and all?"

"Bobby, I'm not telling you anything. You're the worse gossip in the entire town."

"I am not, that would be Ellen and Bill over at the Roadhouse. You ought to hear some of things they tell me go on over there."

"We better get this thing taken care of, I'm meeting John and the boys after school then we're going to the football game at the high school. You going?"

Bobby nodded,

"Of course, I've even got myself a date."

Dean grinned.

"Who's desperate enough that they're willing to scrape the bottom of barrel for a tough old road apple like you?"

"That hurts, Deano. That hurts real bad."

Dean, John and the boys ran into Bobby and his date at the Pizza Hut in downtown Lawrence. Bobby's date turned out to be Missy Mosley, Ben's fifth grade teacher at A Street Elementary School. She was a kind person, and Dean remembered her from before he had left Lawrence. His few years of wandering had sharpened the memories he had of growing up a small town farm boy, and running into the many familiar faces of his childhood just served to reinforce his desire to put down roots. He intended to work on John a little more as well, still hoping.

They sat on the bleachers in the football field at the high school watching, with fading hopes, as the team lost their home coming game. At least, they hadn't gotten completely slaughtered. Dean bought Ben soda and cotton candy, and the boy had a really good sugar rush going by half-time.

John felt that Dean had ulterior motives though, and when Sam asked John if he could go with Jess and her older brother to the late show at the Old Town Theater John suspected that Dean wanted Ben to crash as soon as they got home so he and Dean could entertain themselves while Ben slept it off. Which he was sure also meant that Dean had something, interesting, in mind. John swallowed hard and had to re-adjust himself in his jeans. Dean's last bit of interesting had involved John's handcuffs and the belt from his gun holster. And the boys had wondered why he ate breakfast standing up at the bar.

John shoved some money into Sam's hand and told him have a good time with Jess. His older son had taken the bills and looked at him sideways.

"You and Dean are going to have kinky sex while I'm gone aren't you?"

At John's blush Sam rolled his eyes.

"Oh man, I didn't need to know that, dude."

"I can always take the money back, Sam."

"No, not necessary, have fun."

Sam nodded at Dean and grabbed Jessica's hand. They disappeared into the crowd behind Jessica's older brother Dave. John wrapped Ben in the stadium blanket and tossed him over one shoulder. Dean picked up the rest of their stuff, and followed John to the car.

Ben was all but out on his feet when they hit the driveway. John kept him awake long enough to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas.

John was on his knees at the foot of the bed. Sweat was trickling down his chest but he couldn't wipe it away because his hands were cuffed to the iron railing of the footboard. His eyes were covered but that just sharpened his other senses, and he could hear the whispered swish of movement on the comforter behind him. Suddenly, something warm and slick touched the small of his back. It might have been Dean's thumb but it might not have been, he couldn't tell. John's breath hitched, when the thing moved, parted him and his head jerked back as he gasped.

The light blurred his vision when the blindfold came off. He stared at the picture they made in the mirror of the dresser on the wall opposite the bed. John tanned and dark haired with wisps of brown hair blurring the muscles on his chest and belly. Dean fairer skinned, blonde and smooth behind him, surrounding him. The two merged into one. John moaned.

Later, he could hear Dave Moore's car in the driveway. The hushed giggles of the girl as she said goodbye, and Sam's already deepening voice in response. His son's key rattled in the lock, and John could hear Sam locking the door, and turning on the alarm. He glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty on the dot, Sam was a good boy, responsible and dependable. John felt grateful to have raised such a good kid. He thought that Mary would be please. The light in the hall bathroom flicked on then off a few minutes later and John rolled over, snuggled down next to Dean and went to sleep.

John stood shivering in the cold and dark of the filthy boiler room. He gasped; a man was standing in front of him short, sandy haired with glowing yellow eyes. He leaped back pulling his gun, but it wasn't his service revolver it was an old fashioned kind of gun. His hand shook he remembered it from his other dreams.

"What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming again?" he gasped.

The man smiled.

"No Johnny, this really real, you got a taste of what I can do for you. Now you need to make a deal. Will it be door number one or door number two? Let's just re-cap this situation. Right now Sammy boy is my newest psychic wunderkind, he's going to make a splash in the world in a big way. And Dean, well, Dean is going to be deader than the proverbial doornail in about, oh fifteen minutes. You're stalling Johnny and I can't have that. So what'll it be? Sammy with glowing yellow eyes and no big brother, and poor old Dean dead as little Mary or do you go back to Pleasantville, marry your man and raise your boys to be good all American folks? Time's ticking Johnny?"

"But you can't do that...you can't alter reality."

"Who says I can't? Of course I can, what's the good of being able to do magic if you can't use it for anything. Nothing else will change, the world will go on. It'll just be a slightly different world is all. That's the wonderful thing about continuity, it goes on but it zigs and it zags. All I gotta do is bend a little zig where it should have zagged and you go home. Just like it was, just like you've always remembered it being, no more things that go bump in the night. No more rock salt and holy water, just you and Dean happily banging each other for the rest of your lives."

John hesitated, and the demon smiled.

"You've lost so much John. Do you really want to lose him too? And if we do it your way, what'll you think will happen to Dean. He loves you so much; it'd kill him if you gave your life for him. Do you want to break poor Dean's heart, Johnny?"

"No, god no..." John's voice broke. His hand dropped, the gun hanging limply by his side.

The demon grinned.

"Then just put the gun on the table, John."

With a sigh John put the Colt on the table.

Suddenly his head snapped back and the room swam around him. He felt his throat close; gasping for breath he jerked his hand to his neck, and cried out. He bolted upright in bed, panting like he had just run a long distance race. The covers shifted beside him and John turned. Dean rose pushing the blankets down.

"John, are you okay?"

With a shaky hand John brushed his hair out off his face.

"Yeah, I just had that dream again, I guess. The same one I've been having for the past few nights."

"The same dream, the one with the demon with yellow eyes?"

"Yeah, but it seems so stupid now. And this time you were hurt, in the hospital and dying. I guess it just scared me that's all."

John looked away embarrassed, but Dean put his fingers under the older man's chin lifting his head. He frowned at the thin veil of moisture on the fan of John's thick, dark lashes.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here, honey. I'm not hurt and I'm sure as hell not dying. In fact, slide over here and I'll show you just how alive I am."

After they had made love John lay beside the younger man, looking at the faint shadows of braches dancing against the window. His dream was fading; and he felt embarrassed to even have been troubled by it. Demons with yellow glowing eyes, what bullshit! He was ashamed. He was watching too many crappy Scfi Channel movies with Ben; that was all. He was safe at home and his boys and his lover were around him. He should feel better, but somehow John couldn't shake the feeling that he had forgotten something terribly important. He shrugged. Dean was a warm heavy weight behind him, John rolled over snuggling down beside him.

"I love you," he whispered.

Dean smiled putting one arm around John's shoulders. He leaned in and kissed John.

"Are you okay?"

John blushed truly embarrassed.

"Yeah, better. It's just these dreams, they've been real doozies. You were my son, we were fighting this demon with yellow eyes and you were dying..."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"John, you're only twelve years older than me. If this is about the age thing."

"No, its not. The dream was so real. It felt like it was me, like it was us but a different us, and something dark and ugly. Something that had us beaten."

"John do you know how crazy that sounds. There are no such things as demons. It's just stress. I didn't mean to upset you with the ring and all. I'm sorry."

"I've been thinking, about the ring..." John stuttered to a halt.

Scrambling Dean sat up.

"I still have the ring in the pocket of my jacket, John."

"Oh, then yes."

"Yes, do you really mean it? No going back?" Dean asked with a grin.

"Just give me the damn ring."

Dean rolled out of bed and picked his leather jacket up. Pulling the box out he went back to the bed, and slid the ring on John's finger. John looked at the silver band, wrapped in a gold thread.

"I'll have to get you one."

Dean smiled.

"This is just a promise ring. We can get the wedding rings together, okay?"

They lay back, and John held his hand up staring at the ring. Dean took his hand.

"You gonna be okay to sleep. No more bad dreams?"

John nodded; the images in the dream were already fading. He felt foolish, how could anyone really believe in demons, devils and vampires. Yep, he had been watching too many crappy movies all right. He sighed drifting off to sleep.

The End