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ONE
There was a thick tension between father and son as they drove through California. Though they weren’t driving directly to Stanford, the case they were on was taking them pretty damn close to the college campus. Close enough that accidentally crossing paths with the youngest Winchester was a very real possibility. Chancing a glance to his old man, Dean could see that the older hunter looked tired and weary, his jaw set in a seemingly permanent frown.
“We gonna check on him?” Dean asked tentatively, not daring to voice his estranged brother’s name.
“Nobody here to check on,” John responded gruffly, his tone cold.
Dean didn’t feel courageous enough to press the matter any further. He’d sooner pet a werewolf or tickle a sleeping wendigo than risk irritating John Winchester. Ever since Sam had quit the ‘family business’ to live a normal life at college studying Law, Dean had found himself cautiously walking on eggshells as he continued hunting at his father’s side. Merely mentioning his younger brother’s name was enough to set John off. It would surely be better for everybody if Sam had no knowledge of his dad and big brother being in town. But Dean missed the kid. He couldn’t stand the thought of being so close and not meeting up for a beer or a slice of pie. Maybe he stood a chance at an amicable reunion with Sam, but for John and Sam to be in the same room would almost certainly result in a heated argument.
Perhaps when they finished the case Dean would broach the sensitive Sam topic again. His dad was usually far more relaxed after a successful hunt. And Dean knew damn well the man had checked up on Sam a few times already, even if he never had direct contact with the younger son or mentioned anything about it. There was no way John would actually leave California without checking up on his wayward son. Dean just hoped they might be able to have a proper meet-up rather than spying on him from the shadows.
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As soon as they checked into a motel, they got straight into research mode, trying to determine any patterns about the case.
“Looks like we could be dealing with vampires, probably a nest of them,” John said.
“Vampires?” Dean asked. “I thought they were nearly extinct.”
“Not nearly enough,” John grumbled. “We should check abandoned factories and warehouses, see if there’s any signs of a nest.”
“Check this out,” Dean said, “witness reports and missing victims… it’s all around the same place.”
“Any chance of getting security footage?” John asked.
“Maybe,” Dean mused. “But it’d probably take a while and there’s no guarantee cameras have caught anything. I’ve got another idea.”
“What you thinking?” John wanted to know.
“This stuff seems to all be going down near this club,” Dean informs him. “Seems like the perfect place for some vampires to go and lure somebody away from the crowd. It’s dark, it’s noisy, everybody’s drunk or drugged up,” he listed.
“Could be a lead,” John agreed.
“So… are we going clubbing tonight?” Dean asked.
“This is a job,” John reminded him. “No hitting on chicks or fucking them in the alley.”
“Dad, come on, I at least have the respect to take them to the car,” Dean replied.
“Well not tonight you don’t,” John ordered, not amused by Dean’s attempt at a joke. “We’re hunting vampires, not looking to get your dick wet. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Dean agreed dutifully.
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Dressed in their nicest jeans, cleanest t-shirts, best boots and their leather jackets, Dean followed his dad into the club. They approached the bar, John ordering two beers.
“So…” John commented as they scanned their eyes about the place, taking everything in. “You failed to mention this was a gay club,” he whispered.
“I didn’t know,” Dean answered honestly, staring wide-eyed at the scene around him. Sure, he’d seen gay dudes before. Been hit on by several in fact. But he’d never seen so much openly gay behaviour all at once. He hardly knew where to look. “Think we’re dealing with some gay vampires?”
“Unlikely,” John frowned at the absurdity of the idea, chugging down half his beer, Dean copying. “This lot are just easy prey… look at them,” the older hunter gestured to the dancefloor. “Drunk, drugged, half-dressed, no chance in hell at fighting back… Probably a lot of runaways too,” he theorised. “Kids still get kicked out or beat on by their dads just for being gay.”
“And some homophobic dad isn’t gonna give a shit if his fairy son goes missing,” Dean finished.
“Exactly,” John said.
They continued watching the activity on the dancefloor, but so far there was no sign of potential vampires or any other supernatural action. Just a crowd of men, drinking, dancing and making out. There was the occasional lesbian and drag queen in the mix, but predominantly it was gay men looking for a hook-up. Two hunters ought to stick out in such an environment, but with John’s rugged handsomeness, Dean’s pretty-boy looks and their leather jackets, they managed to blend in surprisingly well.
“C’mon,” John said gruffly pointing to the second floor after they’d finished their beers. “We should get a better view up there.”
They moved around the edge of the dancefloor, headed for the stairs. A number of pretty boy twinks who just screamed ‘daddy issues’ tried to rub up against John, the older man cringing and wincing as he sternly pushed them away. As for Dean, he was startled when somebody looking a lot like his father stepped up behind him and groped his butt.
“Dude, hands off,” Dean warned grabbing a fistful of his shirt, glaring harshly.
“Sorry, sorry,” the man raised his hands in surrender, clearly not the fighter John was even if they shared some physical similarities.
Making it to the stairs, they quickly climbed up, the thuds of their heavy boots getting lost in the thump, thump of the music. John walked along then braced his hands on the railing, looking down at the thriving club below. Imitating his dad’s posture, Dean scanned his eyes over the crowd also, seeking out any sign of vampire activity.
“Nothing looks suspicious,” Dean commented after a few minutes. “But it’s still early.”
“Stay vigilant,” John advised gruffly. “I’ll check the restroom.”
“It’ll probably just be dudes shooting up or hooking up,” Dean warned. “Maybe one guy needing to take a piss.”
“I’ll risk getting an eyeful,” John said. “You should… talk to people… dance, flirt… see if anybody’s seen anything.”
“The only chicks in here are lesbians, I don’t think they’re gonna fall for my charms,” Dean pointed out.
“Not asking you to dance with any chicks, son,” John told him.
“I can’t dance with a dude,” Dean huffed.
“Grow up, Dean,” John responded. “It’s for the case.”
With a shove from his dad, Dean headed back downstairs and stood awkwardly on the edge of the dancefloor. He looked at the throng of men already grinding their sweaty bodies against one another. It did not look inviting. Of course, looking the way that he did, Dean was not left standing alone for very long. He soon had an older men wrapping an arm around his shoulders and slurring dirty words into his ear.
“Ok, no thank you, Sir,” Dean gently shoved the older male away. He shuddered before hurrying across the club to take refuge at the bar. He ordered a shot of whisky, grunting as he swallowed it down. “Another!” he called to the shirtless bartender who was covered in body glitter that shimmered with every movement.
“What happened to your boyfriend?” the bartender asked in a teasing tone.
“Um… we’re not together,” Dean answered awkwardly. Though he supposed people thinking his old man was his boyfriend was a refreshing change from all the people who had mistaken him and his baby brother for a couple in the past.
“Well, a pretty boy like you with lips like that… you could have any daddy in here you wanted,” the bartender winked.
“I’m not actually gay,” Dean responded. “Just… here for the music,” he lied as a Madonna song came on.
“Not gay, sure,” the bartender replied sassily. “Enjoy your whisky.”
Dean knocked the shot back and wiped his mouth before looking out at the dancefloor again. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. Of course, a vampire could keep their true identity hidden until they were going in for the kill. Anybody in the club could be the gay-boy-killing vamp. He cast his eyes back to the bartender, wondering if he was the bad guy, using his position in the club as a way to find victims. He could be listening to sob stories of lonely gays who’d left their homophobic families in search of a new life in California. He could be gaining people’s trust while spiking their drinks.
“More whisky, pretty boy?” the bartender offered.
“No, I’m good,” Dean answered, too paranoid to risk it.
Hopping off the barstool, he cautiously moved through the mass of dancing bodies. He made eye-contact with multiple men, trying to ascertain whether or not they were human. Simply walking through the crowd was enough to earn him attention. He had multiple people grab his hips and rub their hard-ons against him, whispering utter filth into his ears. Some hands trailed down his chest and cupped him between the legs, other hands tried to snake up his shirt to feel his skin. Somebody even pinched his nipple, making him give a very unmanly yelp that he was relieved couldn’t be heard above the music. Then some kid with a cherubic face who looked far too young to be in the club threw his arms around Dean’s neck and rubbed up against him, leaning in to offer ‘services’.
“I don’t pay for sex,” Dean responded. “And I definitely don’t fuck kids. Do yourself a favour, go home.”
“Prude,” the boy sneered before trying his luck elsewhere.
Before Dean even made it off the dancefloor, the boy was being felt up by two much older men. The sight made him want to puke, and he wanted to tell those old perves to keep their damn hands to themselves, but it wasn’t his business. He had vampires to hunt.
Looking up, he saw his dad was upstairs again, leaning on the railing as he looked down below. Fighting off the advances of a few more men, Dean hurried up the stairs to join his dad.
“Tell me you got something?” Dean asked. “What’s this?” he frowned as John handed him a business card.
“Some guy in the restroom said I could have what it takes to make it in the porn industry,” John answered and Dean spluttered out a laugh, his dad glaring. “I don’t think he was a vamp, but maybe he’s working with them. Could be a smart way to lure people.”
“John Winchester… Porn Star,” Dean announced dramatically. “Kinda has a ring to it.”
“Shut it,” John whacked him round the back of the head. “You find anything useful?”
“We should keep an eye on the bartender,” Dean said. “Could be a vampire, could be working for them like Porn guy. Maybe he spikes people’s drinks. And… that kid down there, he’s gotta be fifteen… sixteen max… what the hell’s he doing in a place like this trying to prostitute himself out?”
“That’s really not our concern, Dean,” John responded. “Watch the floor. I’m watching the bartender.”
Quietly, Dean turned his focus to the dancefloor, trying to catch sight of… something. Meanwhile, John tracked the bartenders every move, trying to see if he was adding any extra ingredients to unsuspecting customers’ drinks. Then something in the air shifted, bringing a different energy to the atmosphere.
“Vamps,” Dean whispered to John.
“Definitely,” John agreed, eyeing the creatures who were weaving through the dancefloor, seeking out their prey. “Six of them,” he counted.
“We can take six,” Dean said confidently.
“Not here, too public, too many civilians,” John reasoned. “We’re gonna need to lure them out to the alley.”
“How?” Dean asked.
“Bait,” John answered uneasily. “Go down there, act drunk, get them to dance with you, do what you need to, just get them outside.”
“You want me to try and put the moves on vampires? Male vampires?” Dean blanched.
“More people will die if you don’t,” John hissed. “This is more important than your fragile masculinity, son.”
“I’m not fragile,” Dean pouted. “Why don’t you go down and whore yourself out to the vampire freaks?”
“Fine, if you’re gonna be a princess about it,” John huffed. “Wait… isn’t that…?”
Dean followed his dad’s eyeline to see where he was looking. His heart nearly stopped and his grip on the rail tightened as he spied his little brother, dancing shirtless on the floor, tight jeans hanging low on his hips, surrounded by all six vamps, the monsters gazing hungrily at him, their dirty undead hands pawing at his body.
“… Sammy…” Dean whispered. “Shit, what’s he doing?”
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So... worth continuing???
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Love and Hugs, IceQueenRia xox