No One Mourns the Wicked

From left to right: Teen!Dean (young Jensen), Bridget (OFC, Character Model: Actress Arielle Kebbel with blonde hair), Paul and Dean about to kiss, Young Sam (young Jared), and Billy Loomis

No One Mourns the Wicked
A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

See Chapter 1 for all Warnings and Author's Notes.

Rating: Adult17+
Chapters: 10 of 15 (3,927 words this part)

Chapter 10: Creepshow

        "My God..." Paul's mouth dropped open in shock. " did Billy explain that?"

        "Truthfully? He gave me a bit of a snow job. Said that Mr. Prescott just assumed he and Sidney were dating because Billy was around her so much. Some of his story sounded plausible... Mr. Prescott was always gone, so he didn't know his daughter very well anyway, how would he know who she was really dating, blah blah blah. I accepted his answer, but I was still suspicious."

        "You knew what he was really up to, didn't you? I mean, you had to know," Paul said in disbelief.

        "Yeah, I knew. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew." Pausing over the flood of memories coming back, Dean sighed before he continued. "Billy was getting close to Sidney so he could spy on her mother. At the time, I knew he was plotting something, but what could I do? Bridget told me she didn't even know Sidney Prescott, and even confronted with that news, Billy still maintained that he wasn't up to anything. What could I do? You try to be there for someone who doesn't want help, but desperately needs it..."

        Paul rubbed Dean's arm, seeing him lost in thought over those missed opportunities of his past. "You did everything you could."

        "No. No, I could have done a lot more."

        "Such as?"

        "Like warning Sidney what Billy was up to."

        "Do you think she would have believed you?" Paul asked, giving Dean a little shake. "What teenager wants to accept that their mom is cheating on their dad with multiple men?"

        "But I didn't even give her the chance. I didn't tell Mr. Prescott what I knew, either." His voice shook. "I was afraid everything would come out."

        Paul put his arm around Dean's shoulders and rested his head against his temple; they sat like that for a minute, not speaking. Dean finally began his story again. "Shortly after, Billy came to me one night and just climbed into bed. He seemed to want to cuddle and nothing more, but..."


        Although he was still a bit angry with Billy for lying to him, Dean didn't refuse him when he climbed in his window a couple days after Dean came home from Torrance. Billy didn't say a word, just removed his clothes down to his underwear and climbed into bed with him, cuddling into Dean's chest. Dean put an arm around him. They were quiet.

        Breaking the silence, he said, "You're shaking."

        Billy didn't reply for so long that Dean thought he just wasn't going to say anything. Then he suddenly spoke. "My parents are getting divorced," he said in a low voice.

        "Aw, damn, Billy. I'm sorry." Dean held him closer. "Don't worry, man. We'll figure something out."

        "There's nothing to figure out." Billy's voice held a steady, unemotional tone, like he was just numb. "I'm not going anywhere."

        "Is your mom staying here?"


        Looking at him in the dark, Dean questioned, "Then what?"

        "My mom is going back to Ohio to live with her parents for a while. She said I can't come."

        A shadow of dread passed over Dean's heart.

        Billy went on. "She wants a new start, and I can't be a part of it."

        "God, Billy. I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you wanted."

        Billy, shrugging, said, "She's a pain in the ass anyway. Aren't all moms a pain in the ass?" But his voice broke before he could finish the sentence, and he began to cry.


        "I just held him and comforted him until he cried himself to sleep," Dean said, looking like he was going a bit numb himself.

        "Dean, I just can't imagine dealing with something like that at such a young age. You were a good boyfriend." Paul had already said this, but he felt it beared repeating. "You did everything you could."

        Dean knew what part of the story had to be told next, and he wasn't sure he could have Paul touching him for this. "Things just went downhill from there. Billy kept drawing those twisted, monstrous pictures, but they got worse and worse. He'd color them in with a red pencil. People with blood all over them. And then one night, he wanted to... he wanted to play what he called a game. At first, it seemed sort of kinky, but innocent. Then it got scary." Dean suddenly pushed away from him. "I'm sorry, Paul, I can't have you touching me for this. I thought I could handle anything, but what Billy wanted to play was so disturbing, I..." He was breathing heavier, moving down the couch and squeezing one of the cushions in his fingers.

        Although taken by surprise, Paul understood. "Of course. If you need me to keep my distance, I will. Tell me."


        School started.

        Things regarding Billy really began to slip out of Dean's control then. It was a Saturday night during football season. Woodsboro had won their first game the night before, and Bridget was keyed up and half loaded; she was even wearing her cheerleading uniform again. Dean knew as soon as she leaned in his bedroom window that she was itching to play. "Your dad home?"

        "Naw, he and his hunting buddies are out celebrating a good kill."

        Now Billy was at the window, grinning, a bit tipsy himself. "What about Sam?"

        "He went with them." Dean found himself grinning too. It was good to see Billy acting like his old self.

        "Cool!" Bridget climbed in the window, but because she was half lit, she almost fell on Dean's footlocker and crushed it. As she began to laugh, struggling not to fall, Dean scooped her up and pulled her the rest of the way in the window. He carried her to the bed and plopped her down.

        Snickering, Billy came in after her.

        "We just came from a party," Bridget was explaining. Billy shut the window, still grinning. "Woodsboro won. Yaaaay Woodsboro, go team go!" she giggled.

        "I can see that." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean rubbed at her midriff, running his hand under her cheerleading top.

        She instantly responded. "Fuck me, Dean. I want both of you." Bridget sat up and kissed him, sloppy but with enthusiasm.

        Billy hopped onto the bed in a lying position. The bed bounced up and down, which made Bridget laugh again. He reached up and unzipped her top.

        A couple minutes later and no one was wearing a shirt, kisses being passed around like party favors. Bridget's bra was unhooked but still on, loosely. Dean, sharing dirty kisses with her, laid her back on the bed.

        "Let's play a game," Billy said in a wicked hiss.

        "What kind of game?" Dean asked between kisses.

        Billy leaned in close. "Bridget knows what kind of game."

        She rolled her eyes. "Billy, this isn't that abduction game again, is it? 'Cause I got all these leaves in my hair last time." She addressed Dean as if he knew what she was talking about. "They were a bitch to wash out."

        "Aw come on, Bridge..."

        Bridget mumbled, "You wash and wash and there's always a few left, stuck in your hair..."

        "I'll make sure you don't get laid right on the ground this time."

        Knitting his brow, Dean asked, "What's the abduction game?"

        "It's where we pretend we've abducted Bridget, and then we seduce her," Billy explained.

        "Oh, that sounds okay. But why would Bridget wind up on the ground?"

        She rolled her eyes again. "He gets so into this."

        Dean didn't understand, but he went with it.

        "Peaches?" Billy said cryptically.

        Bridget nodded.

        "Okay." Taking off his belt, Billy handed it to Dean. "Tie 'er up."

        Dean saluted him. "Right." He took hold of Bridget's wrists.

        "No, no!" She came alive under his hands, struggling, but only enough for show. Dean crossed her wrists over each other and lashed them together with the belt, then wound the other end around a slat in his headboard to secure her there. She seemed to like that, her wrists and hands writhing inside the stiff leather.

        "Don't pretend you don't like it, you slut," Billy growled. He pointed to Bridget's kicking legs. "You get the bottom, I'll do the top." With that, Billy pushed her bra out of the way and began to suck on her tits, nipping enough to make her whine with need.

        Dean thought he liked this game as he took hold of Bridget's wiggling knees, which were moving apart even as she continued to protest. "No, don't, don't put your dirty hands on me," she said, panting.

        He played along. "You know you want it," Dean said, and yanked down her cheerleading bottoms and her panties. Bridget panted in anticipation, watching him.

        At first, Dean fingered her, circling her clit with his fingers until she was dripping wet. Bridget made pretty moans and squirmed. He watched Billy for a minute, kissing up to her throat, before dipping his face between Bridget's legs to take several long, savoring licks.

        She quivered all over and cried out, breathing even harder. "Uh... oh... oh God... oh God... fuck me! Please, fuck me! Now! Do it now!"

        "So you're begging for it, bitch?" Billy grabbed Bridget's throat in a threatening manner. Surprised, Dean's head came up, and he watched with a confused expression.

        "Uh huh," she answered.

        "What a whore you are," hissed Billy. He unbuttoned his jeans.

        Dean wasn't sure where he was supposed to fit into this. "Billy, what...?"

        "Watch out," Billy said, and swung his leg over Bridget so he was straddling her. Dean was edged off to the side, where he sat and just watched with bewilderment. Now that Dean wasn't in the way, Billy took his cock out of his pants, roughly positioned himself between Bridget's legs, and laid on top of her.

        Well, Dean figured he could watch, anyway, and somewhere along the way one of them would give him some attention too. Billy shoved his hips upward and Bridget's legs spread further apart in kind; she moaned out loud.

        "Take it, bitch," he whispered, nipping at her throat. Dean noticed that he was fucking her much harder and rougher than usual. He watched Billy's ass move up and down and wished he had room to get in on the action. Still turned on and for lack of something to do, Dean rubbed Billy's back and behind. Billy seemed to like it, as he sometimes threw Dean a lustful look.

        They didn't last long. Dean could tell by the way Bridget had her face tucked into her upraised arm that she was nursing an orgasm, crying out random things like, "Yes! Yes! Ah! Don't stop!" And by the way Billy's movements were speeding up and his breath coming shorter, Dean thought he was on the verge of cumming too.

        That was when he got the surprise of his life.

        Billy suddenly took Bridget's neck in both of his hands and seemed to squeeze. Her eyes popped open; she looked at Billy in fear. Eyes wide, Dean sprang on him, gripping Billy's hands and pulling them off.

        "Dean! What are you doing?"

        "You were choking her!"

        "It's just a game, Dean."

        He looked down at Bridget. Her eyes were open; she looked fine. "You shoulda told him what you were going to do."

        "What did you think 'Peaches' was? It's the safe word," Billy informed him, plainly annoyed.

        Dean looked at each of them as if they were crazy. "You're telling me you want to pretend to kill her?"

        "Would you quit flappin' your lips; I'm right on the edge here," growled Billy, and tried to get back to what he'd been doing.

        This was insane. Dean understood wanting to put some drama into your sex, but the anxiety in his bones told him this wasn't just a game to Billy.

        It was practice.

        He watched Billy pretend to choke Bridget and her react with wide-eyed terror, struggling. Billy spent himself as he did this, eventually slowing his movements as he came inside her. Doing this got him off. Holy crap, pretending to kill someone got him off.

        Or was it the thought of really doing it that made Billy cum?

        Dean wanted to run from the room and throw up, but he had to monitor the game; he had to make sure it didn't get out of hand. Bridget's eyes were fluttering and her head lolling to one side, like she was really dying. "Are you okay? Bridget?" he asked desperately.

        She opened one eye and looked at him, winked, and then went back to pretending to be dead.

        Releasing her throat, Billy leaned back to catch his breath. He looked at Dean, his face glowing with satisfaction, mouth grinning wickedly. "We did it. We killed her."

        Dean groaned in disbelief.

        "We killed her together."

        "Fucking hell," Dean mumbled. He went to undo Bridget's bonds.

        Billy fixed his jeans, fumbling with himself as he tried to talk Dean into it. "It's just a game, Dean. Can't you play along?"

        "This is sick, Billy. You're only doing this because - " He realized as Bridget peeked at him that she may not know much about the affair and Billy's feelings toward Maureen Prescott. Maybe Billy didn't want her to know, only Dean. Heaven help him, that actually made him feel special for a moment. Sick. That was sick.

        Seeing Dean's hands still on the belt, Billy jumped up and pulled him close, holding onto him like a desperate child. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. But please don't leave. I don't know why I like it, but it's not real. We're just acting."

        With a sigh, Dean patted Billy on the back, only able to hold him loosely. He felt his body going numb. "I'm not gonna leave. But this game is over, okay? That was too fucking weird."


        "What?" Dean snapped.

        Bridget used the most soothing and casual voice she could. "You guys haven't dumped the body yet."

        Leaves in her hair... oh. "Dump the body?" How many times did they play this game in the last month?

        "Dean, come on. I'm taking some acting classes this year," Bridget explained. "This is good practice."

        "Yeah." He glared at Billy. "But not just for you."

        Billy put on a bewildered expression.

        "Fine. Let's get this over with." Dean grabbed his shirt. "Where are we 'dumping the body'?"

        "You don't want me to take care of you first?" the other boy asked, making his voice sound as suggestive as possible.

        Dean shook his head. "I'm not in the mood now."

        She pretended to be limp while Dean put her bra back on. It was a rather convincing act, sent chills up his spine. Billy insisted on wrapping her up in the rug at the end of Dean's bed so no one would see her. As they carried Bridget out, Dean drew the line at putting her in the trunk, opting instead for the back seat. "You're face up, right?"

        Bridget's bonded hands came out of one end of the rug with a double thumbs up.

        Getting into the car and driving off down the street, Dean started to relax a bit; the most disturbing part of this game was done. Maybe. "So where are we going?"

        "We're dumping her in Cypress Woods."

        Dean swallowed hard. "No. There are coyotes there. It isn't safe."

        "Bridget and I have played this game in those woods at least three times. There aren't any coyotes."

        "Yeah, Dean, chill out," came Bridget's muffled reply from inside the rug.

        "Be quiet, you're dead," Billy told her.

        She whined, "It's hot in here," and pushed the flap that was folded over her open, letting her arms flop out. When Billy stared at her, she pretended to be dead again. At least now her face was uncovered.

        Dean hands shifted uneasily on the steering wheel. "If I didn't have a shotgun in the trunk, I'd turn this car right around."

        He parked on the edge of the woods, still uneasy, still wary. His dad and his friends had taken out a small pack of the Sethian avatars that week, and three more tonight, but there were more of them out there. "Don't move until I get my gun," Dean commanded, stepping out of the car.

        When he turned around with the gun in his hands, Billy was already gathering the rug bundle in his arms. Dean wished he could brain him with the butt of the gun for being so overanxious and not waiting in the car. Billy threw Bridget over his shoulder; her hands flopped out of one end of the rug, limp. Why did they have to be so enamored of this game, so reckless, like none of this was significant?

        As soon as Billy lowered her gently to the ground, Dean tapped his arm. "Okay, game's over. Get 'er and let's go."

        "Not so fast." He looked down at the Bridget bundle, savoring his work. Her hands lay limp in the leaves, still bound, her body an indistinct lump inside the rug. Billy didn't say anything. Anything he could say would not be well received. He leaned over to pull the rug open so he could study the unmoving body closer.

        From somewhere in the dark, a creature barked out a crazy laugh. It was the first time Dean had heard it. They were right, it was a hard-to-describe sound. Not quite human, not quite animal. The closest thing he could liken it to was a hyena.

        The rug abruptly sat up. "What the fuck was that?" Bridget's head popped out like the rug was a burrito coming apart.

        The cry of the avatar came again.

        Bridget scrambled out of the rug and ran for the car. "I don't know what the hell that is, but we're not sticking around to find out, are we?"

        "Fuck no." Dean snatched up his rug, shoving it into Billy's hands. "Billy, get in the car."

        The cry was coming closer.

        "What is it?" Billy asked.

        "Billy, get in the car!" Dean poked him with the shotgun.

        "God, what is that?! It sounds scary!" Fumbling with the door handle, Bridget tried to squeeze her hands out of the belt holding her wrists together. Dean came over and loosened the belt for her, then opened the back car door. Bridget scurried into the car and pulled the door closed behind her.

        When Billy didn't move, Dean attempted to throw an arm around his waist and carry him by force to the car. He managed to partially lift him off the ground, but Billy just hopped on one foot, pushing away from him. "Dean, what is it?"

        Billy nodded his head toward the woods. Oh God, he was pointing at something, wasn't he? With alarm, Dean looked at the thing Billy was indicating.

        It was one of the avatars, just as his dad and Mr. Prescott had described. It bared a set of long, razor-sharp teeth. The avatar was still far enough away that they could make a run for the car, but every time it made that cry, it was calling more avatars to join the pack. If they didn't get out of there in a big hurry, they could soon be surrounded.

        "It's a coyote. Get in the fucking car."

        "That's no coyote, Dean." Billy stared at it in wonder.

        The avatar growled, taking a few short steps toward them. Stalking them.

        Her breath fogging up the window, Bridget watched, eyes wide and fearful. "Come on, let's go!" she screamed through the glass.

        As he raised his dad's Mossberg shotgun, Dean saw that the creature's eyes were all black; shades of purple and yellow seeped into the corners of its eyes, the prettiest colors he'd ever seen, all black and nothingness and so many colors seeping into its ey -

        Dean shook his head violently, shutting his eyes against the hypnotizing void of its eyes. When he looked at Billy, he realized the boy must have been drawn in, fixated on the avatar's unwavering gaze. Again, Dean aimed the gun and finally squeezed the trigger.

        The avatar's right eye exploded in a spray of black goo. It made a high-pitched groaning noise, tottered on its feet, and fell over; at the same time, Billy jerked suddenly as if he'd been startled, blinking, taken by surprise. Getting the thing in the eye was the best way, but Dean ventured that the Tripps would still be angry.

        "Holy shit, Dean," Billy exclaimed, just looking at him with his mouth slightly open.

        Dean pushed him toward the car. "Let's go. More will be coming."

        "How do you know that?"

        As if in answer, another one of those strange cries came from within the woods.

        "Go, goddamn it!"

        Billy finally did as Dean ordered, moving swiftly to the passenger side of the car. Dean slid into the driver's seat, made sure Billy was in, and took off down the dirt road.

        "There's another one!" Bridget said, peering out the back window.

        "Don't look at them!" Dean commanded. He was afraid she would become hypnotized by the avatars and jump out of the car; his father had warned against that.

        "What are they?!" she keened in a shaking voice.

        "Just don't look at them!"

        Dean drove them back to paved roads and didn't look back until they'd reached his home.


        Billy had been full of questions. It seemed to him that Dean knew more about those strange creatures than he should. Dean had shrugged and said they must be some kind of mutation of a coyote, and that he hadn't liked how Billy had become hypnotized by the one animal, so that's why he told everyone to stop looking at them. Billy accepted the answer begrudgingly.

        That night, Dean had a nightmare that twisted the truth to suit his anxieties over Billy's troubling sex game. In the dream, Bridget was lying on the open rug in the middle of the dark woods, her wrists bound with the belt. Her eyes were closed, her bare stomach unmoving, her hands lying limp above her head in the orange and brown fall leaves. The avatar that had stalked them was stalking them again. It crept closer and closer, saliva dripping from its long, sharp teeth.

        "Bridget, get up! It's coming!" Dean said. He tried to lift the gun in his hands, but it was too heavy.

        Bridget did not move.

        Although he couldn't turn his head (it was also too heavy, like a lead weight perched upon his neck), Dean knew Billy was standing next to him, almost against him. He could feel him. "Billy, we have to get out of here! Is Bridget okay? I don't think she's breathing!"

        Moving Dean's hair aside with his fingers, Billy whispered in his ear. "She can't move," he said.

        The avatar slinked closer. Dean saw the reflection of Mr. Tripp in the creature's eyes. "Don't shoot it in the eyes, boy!" he bellowed. "The eyes are worth half a grand."

        "Why can't she move?" Dean asked. When he tried to walk toward Bridget, Dean found that his feet were stuck in a patch of quicksand. He fought against the muck, but his feet only tread in one place.

        Billy's fingers played along the edges of Dean's hair. "Because..." His lips brushed Dean's ear. "...I killed her."

        Dean awoke in a cold sweat, the phantom feeling of Billy's fingers still tickling through his hair.


Chapter 11: The Watcher in the Woods

Chapters: 11 of 15 (5,009 words this part)

        Paul's face looked deeply troubled, eyebrows creased in the middle and a hand to his parted lips. "This game Billy played with Bridget... I can understand why it disturbed you. It sounds like the kid was really tormented. The fact that you were only 16 and you had to deal with that... knowing that you should do something but not knowing what to do..." Reaching out, Paul ran his fingers through the hair just above Dean's ear.

        Dean heard a voice from the nightmare in his head. "Because... I killed her."

        He instantly sprang up from the couch with a gasp and a cringe. Paul looked after him, a little confused. "Oh... right. You said..."

        Trying to be apologetic, Dean nodded with a little smile. "Yeah. Uh, anyway..."

        "Does it weird you out sometimes? That Billy did those horrible things and I look like him?"

        There was a discernable pause, one long enough to send an impetuous stab of hurt through Paul. Then Dean shook his head, came over to him, and took his face in his hands, giving him a kiss. "No, it doesn't weird me out. Not in the way that'd I'd ever want to stop touching you."

        "But it does weird you out sometimes. It has to," Paul insisted.

        With a sigh, Dean plopped back into the seat beside him. "I guess... there are times. But - "

        "Dean, it's okay. You don't have to tack on a bunch of explanations. As long as it doesn't send you screaming out the door..." He tried to change the subject; this one was too awkward for either of their comfort. "So what did you do about Billy?"


        Deep in the heart of the woods, Dean felt privileged to be watching his father carefully rake leaves over a bear trap he'd just set in the shade of a large oak tree. Dad was letting him help on the hunt! "What happens after we catch an avatar in the trap?"

        John dusted off his hands. "We wait. The injured animal will make so much noise that it'll bring more avatars to it. And we just start picking them off."

        "Sweet. Genius plan, Dad." Dean couldn't wait to get home and tell Sammy about that one. Too bad John wouldn't let the younger boy come.

        At that thought, Dean looked over at Mr. Harvelle with his daughter, showing her how to aim the little beebee gun his wife would allow her to have. She was obviously interested in the adults' guns and was sometimes allowed to hold one, but Jo was still so young. Even Dean could tell that most of the little girl's interest in hunting involved her love for her father, and how much she just wanted to spend time with him.

        Something he could relate to.

        Dean watched with a bittersweet smile as Bill lifted Jo's hand a little higher, showed her how to look through the gun's sight, and then tickled her under the arms when she was caught off guard. Jo giggled, lowering the gun. "How do you aim now, huh? It's hard to do when you're being attacked by the Tickle Monster," Bill said, hugging her close and kissing the side of her head. "You better get that gun up, 'cause I'm not stopping."

        "We don't shoot the Tickle Monster," Jo giggled, and began to laugh loudly as Bill tickled her harder.

        "No, he's a good guy, like Cookie Monster."

        Dean smiled to himself. "You know, Sammy's never going to let you forget this. The Harvelles bring their younger daughter out here and he's stuck at home."

        "That's up to the Harvelles." After wiping his forehead with a rag, John took a drink from his canteen. "Go get me the orange tape out of my truck. I want to mark this tree."

        "Okay." Dean headed for his father's black truck. Halfway there, a rifle shot rang out. Everyone turned in surprise just as the avatar fell.

        Kaitlyn lowered her rifle. "Almost didn't see that one, the way it was sneaking through the underbrush."

        "Kait, that could have been our catch," John complained, pointing at the bear trap on the ground at his feet.

        "Sure, with you standing there? It would have gutted you before it ever stepped in that thing." She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

        "They don't come out in the daytime very much," commented Ellen. She fidgeted nervously with the shotgun in her hands. "Bill, you better put Jo in the truck."

        "Aw, but I'm teaching her to aim."


        He raised a hand to shush her. "You're right, you're right." Bill picked Jo up, turning her nearly upside down to make her laugh.

        When he passed Drew, the man was snickering; he indicated Ellen and then teased Bill about how easily he'd given in to her demand, making whip-cracking sounds and flicking his wrist like he was flicking an invisible whip. "Whu-ch, whu-ch!"

        Although they hadn't started off on the best foot, Bill and Drew were better friends now. One thing they found fun was trading insults. "Oh, like you and your wife."

        Drew opened his mouth to respond, but Kaitlyn chose that moment to unknowingly illustrate Bill's point. "Drew, go dress the thing. Here's your gloves."

        Bill just laughed derisively.

        Drew imitated him, but made the laugh sound much more dopey as he walked off to do what his wife wanted. He collected his gloves and the jars he would need to save the avatar's eyes and some of its blood.

        "Don't forget the ears. A guy in New Mexico says there's been a demand for their ears." Kaitlyn held out a hunting knife.

        "Yes, dear," Drew replied, almost rolling his eyes at being ordered around in front of his buddy.

        Bill just laughed.

        Rifling around in the case his dad kept his weapons in, Dean searched for the tape. The Harvelle's truck was nearby, and as Ellen came over to check on Jo, sitting in the driver's seat with the door open where her father had placed her, she noticed that Dean stopped and stared off into space; there was something deep on his mind. "You need some help there, Dean?"

        He jumped a little, as if startled. "Uh, no, I'm fine. Just trying to find some tape."

        "You seem to have something on your mind."

        "Um... kinda." He couldn't talk to his dad. John knew too much about Dean's friends; he'd know in a second who Dean was talking about, and who knew what would happen then. "You've known a lot of hunters, right?"

        "You could say that. Bill and I run a bar in Omaha, and a lot of Bill's friends come in there."

        "Have any of them ever done anything... that scared you?"

        Leaning on John's truck, Ellen looked a bit confused as she asked, "How do you mean?"

        "Well..." The woman hung out with heavily-armed hunters, many of whom were expert liars. There had to be some unhinged people among her list of friends. "...has anyone ever done anything that made you fear for their sanity?"

        Blurting out a laugh, Ellen said, "All the time." She regarded Dean carefully, trying to read him. "There are a lot of people in this community who have lost the ones they love to the supernatural. That would make anyone a little crazy."

        "I guess it would."

        "Do you know someone who's doing things that scare you?"

        Was that ever an understatement; Dean had to let out a small laugh. "Oh, yeah."

        "Like what?"

        God, he couldn't tell her this... he had to water it down, keep some details to himself. "I have a friend whose parents are getting divorced. His dad was cheating, and he found out about it. My friend knows who his dad was cheating with, and... he keeps doing things that make me think... that he's planning to kill her."

        Ellen reared back a little at the gravity of what Dean had just told her. "Some kid? You're talking about one of your high school friends?"

        "Yeah. But don't tell my dad, please don't tell my dad..."

        "Maybe your dad can help, Dean..."

        He can't. He'll know, he'll know, somehow, he'll know, and John Winchester cannot have a cocksucker for a son. "Please, can we just keep this to ourselves?"

        Her eyes darting between Dean and his father in the distance, Ellen thought it over. "I guess so. But it really depends on what's going on, kid. What has your friend done?"

        "He's just so angry. He keeps talking about killing her for breaking up his parents. And drawing all these fucked up pictures of people with blood all over them." Dean could have gone on, told her about the twisted sex game, but he couldn't bring himself to take this virtual stranger into that level of confidence. We share this girl, you see, she's our fuck buddy, and he likes to pretend to kill her and dump her body in the woods. Yeah, right, Dean was never going to tell Ellen that.

        Because Ellen hadn't heard the whole story, it didn't sound that bad to her. "I don't think that means he's going to kill this woman, Dean. He's just really mad."

        "I know, but... I don't know what to do."

        Ellen peered into John's gun case. "This is a nice Mossberg." She took out a shotgun and looked it over. "Your dad said someone took this gun out of his case and expelled a round a few days ago. One of those avatars turned up dead the next morning, a shotgun round in its head. He thinks it was you, but he doesn't know why. Does that have anything to do with your friend?"

        Dean ducked his head. "Kinda."

        Noticing that John was now staring at her with the gun in her hands, Ellen nodded at him, her eyes telling him to stay away, let her handle it. Dean raised his head and looked at her a bare second later. "What happened, son?"

        Again, Dean quickly formulated a way to tell this story without revealing too much. "My friends wanted to come out here to mess around. I tried to talk them out of it, but since they didn't know about the avatars, they insisted. So I took my dad's gun to protect them."

        "And one of the things snuck up on you and you had to shoot it."

        "Yeah. But they never saw it, only me," he lied.

        That gave Ellen an idea. "Does your friend like to hunt?"

        Dean shrugged. "I don't think he's ever been."

        "For some people, hunting is about releasing their anger." She placed the Mossberg in Dean's hands. "Take your friend out hunting. Not avatars, but regular animals. Take him somewhere else. Teach him to shoot. It'll give him an outlet for his anger."

        A little dubious, Dean said, "Is it really a good idea to put a gun in his hands when he wants to kill this woman?"

        Ellen patted his shoulder. "Dean, he doesn't want to kill anybody. He's just a kid."

        He almost cringed. Would she feel differently about that if he'd told her everything?

        "You just try it. I've known a lot of people who kept a tight rein on their pain by blowing away a few oogity-boogities. Works just the same with quail." Ellen ended her sentence with a wink.

        "Well... maybe you've got a point. Thanks, Mrs. Harvelle."

        "I told you to stop that." She smacked his arm. "It's Ellen."

        Dean just chuckled. "Okay, Ellen."

        His hands placed sternly on his hips, John called, "Dean! Are you ever coming with that tape?"

        Dean put the Mossberg back in the case. "Coming, sir!" When he turned back to Ellen, he just barely caught sight of the avatar before it leapt into the back of the Harvelle's truck, growling at Jo through the cab's back window. "Ellen, it's - "

        She had her own shotgun. Ellen had laid it on the tailgate of John's truck when she came over to talk to Dean. Now she snatched it up and turned fluidly toward the avatar with a swift but practiced grace. Jo hadn't even had time to scream when her mother pumped the shotgun and put a round into the avatar's head. Once the creature had fallen with a limp thud, it was then that Jo began to cry.

        The others were still staring in surprise when both Ellen and Bill had gone to their daughter to comfort her. Ellen spoke so everyone could hear. "Don't you think it's time we get out of here and give that trap time to work?"

        "As soon as Dean brings me the tape," John replied with annoyance.

        Dean winced.

        Ellen nodded toward the dead animal in the back of her truck. "We're not taking that back to town. You wanna get a move on so you can dress that one too, Drew?"

        Drew scowled at her from under the brim of his cap.

        In reaction, Bill had a good snicker. "Whu-ch, whu-ch!"


        "What are we doing out here?"

        Dean was taking Ellen's advice, but in his own way. As pansyass as it sounded in his own head, he couldn't stand to kill innocent animals when there was a whole wood full of demonic creatures to use as target practice out there. Dean retrieved two of his weapons from the trunk of the Impala. "Keep your panties on; I told you I'm going to explain."

        Billy looked out over North Cypress Woods. "I thought you didn't want us to come back out here."

        "I don't, not without me."

        "What's so special about you?" joked Billy.

        Showing him the shotgun and the large hunting knife, Dean smirked and said, "I'm heavily armed."

        He hoped Billy would believe what he was telling him as they picked their way through the woods, bands of late afternoon sunlight occasionally passing across their hair as it wafted through the dense cover of tree limbs. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. "My dad and I put out a bear trap. We caught one of those fucked up coyotes."

        Staring in surprise, Billy stopped walking for a moment. "You did?"

        "Yeah. You and I are going to kill it." Dean caught his eye. "Together."

        Billy stopped moving again. The expression on his face was especially boyish, making him look vulnerable. He swallowed loud enough for Dean to hear and then stood there with his mouth slightly open, just looking at him. "Wh... why?"

        Coming over, Dean took Billy's hand and pressed the handle of the knife into it, curling Billy's fingers around the hilt. He tried to make his kiss as tender as possible as he pressed his lips to the other boy's mouth. Billy kissed back, blinking in disbelief. "Because I'm worried about you. I want to give you an outlet for your anger."

        Billy, not saying anything, continued to look at Dean as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

        They walked on a little deeper into the woods before they rounded a thatch of bushes and there was the avatar, lying in the leaves with one of its back legs caught by the bear trap. It looked up at their approach pitifully, sad-eyed, with a muzzle holding its jaws closed. The leaves all around it were dotted and smeared with black goo.

        Billy froze, glaring at the avatar. When he'd seen this thing before, it had been from a distance; seeing it from only a few feet away was a completely different experience. "Holy crap, Dean... what's wrong with its ears?"

        "Just keep your distance for a minute, okay?" Dean pumped the shotgun and swept an arm in front of Billy to keep him back. "Don't look it directly in the eyes and don't look at these puddles of black shit on the ground, either."

        "You keep saying that. Why don't you want me to look - "

        "Just do what I say, will ya? Trust me for once."

        Annoyed, Billy sighed, but did as Dean said. "What if it gets up and comes after us? A bear trap isn't going to..." He trailed off when Dean lifted a length of chain up with his foot, showing him that the trap was attached to the tree next to the creature, keeping it from going anywhere. "Why do you have this thing chained up to the tree anyway?"

        "These mutant coyotes, they're really dangerous, okay? And there's a lot of them in these woods. We're taking out as many as we can to protect the public. If you catch one, others will come to help it, and you can just pick them off one by one."

        "Your dad a forest ranger or some sort of animal control officer?"

        Considering that, Dean replied, "Yeah, you could say that." It wasn't exactly a lie.

        "I can't believe I've known you this long and I didn't really know what your dad did for a living."

        Dean shrugged it off. "It can't bite you with the muzzle on. Be careful, though."

        "You want me to get in there and cut its throat?" Billy regarded the avatar with a mixture of awe and confusion. "Won't your dad get angry?"

        "No, we can just leave part of its leg in the trap and he'll think the coyote chewed it off."

        "And this is all about me?" Billy asked, a little dubious.

        Dean looked at him for several seconds before responding. "Man, it's like I said... you're so angry lately. You need an outlet."

        Seeing the sympathetic eyes, Billy shifted with discomfort; he realized Dean felt sorry for him. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

        "What? No. No, Billy, I don't think you're crazy. But things are all fucked up for you at home and the stuff you're doing... it's scarin' me, man." Dean tried to appeal to that side of Billy, to bring out his darker side. "Wouldn't it make you feel good? Just to slice through its throat and watch it die? You could pretend that thing is the woman who fucked your dad."

        A dark little smile teased at Billy's mouth. "Hmm. Now that's an idea."

        "Yeeeeah..." Leaning in close, Dean kissed the corner of his lips. "And when we're done, we can fool around if you wanna. In my car, not here."

        "Hmmm." Billy kissed him back, much more aggressively, running a hand up his side. "Sounds good."

        "Okay. Now get to work," Dean commanded, nudging him with the gun.

        With a devilish grin, Billy turned to the animal, alternating his grip on the knife several times out of anxiousness. The avatar growled and got to its feet as much as it could manage. As Billy approached it, crouching down and reaching for the back of its neck, Dean was at the ready with the gun in case something happened. The avatar tried to dart away at the last second, but Billy got a good hold on the scruff of its neck and prepared to slash its throat. The knife brushing its fur, he suddenly froze.

        Dean waited. Billy didn't move. "Billy? Come on, whatcha waiting for?"

        After a few moments of silence, Billy lowered the knife and placed it on the ground. He quickly removed the muzzle from the creature's snout, saying, "I revere you."

        Dean let out a long, pronounced gasp. When he saw Billy reaching for the bear trap like he was going to open it, he gasped again, and, seeing that he had as clear a shot as he could get, pumped a round into the avatar's face. Billy shielded his face with his arms; he was splattered with the black blood. The animal fell down dead.

        Breathing hard, Billy got to his feet. "What did you do that for?!" he yelled, nearly charging at Dean.

        Dean pointed at the muzzle on the ground. "What did you do that for?!"

        "You lied to me!" Billy accused. His hands balled into angry fists; his feet did a back and forth dance of pent up aggression. "That wasn't a mutated coyote. It was a demon!"

        The look of shock and surprise on Dean's face, his eyes alternating between wide and squinted in suspicion as he tried to figure out where that had come from... "Wha... how... kind of." Dean took a second to gather his wits about him. "How do you know about that?!"

        "Just tell me."

        "Uh... okay, they're not coyotes. They're avatars of the Egyptian god Seth. Like his own personal servant demons." Repeating his question, Dean asked, "How do you know about demons?"

        Billy paused, taking time to decide if he wanted to spill the whole insane-sounding story to Dean. "You believe in them, don't you?"

        "Aren't we standing here talking about them right now?"

        "Okay... I know about demons because I've been talking to them my whole life."

        Now Dean couldn't speak for a moment, his eyes widening in shock. "What?"

        "You know all those pictures I've drawn of the scary-lookin' guys with the skeletal faces and the wide mouths full of fangs and all that? Those are my forces. They're my own personal gang of demons. Most people can't see them; they keep themselves invisible to everyone else, but I'm special." Billy grinned like a proud little boy who'd just built his first model airplane. "I can communicate with them and see them when no one else can."

        Dean felt almost struck dumb by what Billy was telling him. "What... what do they say to you, Billy?"

        "They tell me I'm good. No matter how my parents treat me, how they ignore me and leave me and make me feel forgotten, I'm still a good person." Billy smirked. "And they give me ideas."

        "Billy... have they been telling you to kill Maureen Prescott?" Dean questioned.

        Nodding, Billy's eyes began to go unfocused, dreamy, like he was seeing his demon friends and all the wicked things they spoke of. "They describe how I should do it. I see such wonderful pictures of the bitch all spread open, covered with blood, guts all over the place. They tell me I'm justified in wanting to kill her. The demons, Dean... when no else loves me, they always will." A look of ecstasy overtook Billy's face, eyes closed, mouth hanging open; a delighted moan dripped from his mouth. "Oh, Dean, I wish you could see the things they show me and feel the things they make me feel."

        Dean, fearing for him, dropped his gun and rushed forward, taking Billy's face in his hands. "Billy? Billy, stay with me. Billy, what are they doing to you?!" He shook him.

        The sounds coming out of Billy were almost sexual. "Mmm, Dean. I get so high when they're inside my head. I wish you could feel it."

        "No, this isn't a good thing. You gotta stop talking to them, Billy; demons are evil!" As his eyes were practically rolling up in his head, Dean shook Billy hard. Billy, annoyed, finally looked at him again. "They're trying to get you to do horrible things because that's what they do! You can't listen!"

        "They're the only ones who have always been there for me. My forces always listen."

        "Does anyone else know about them?"

        "Just my mom. She always referred to them as imaginary friends, but I believe she really understood," Billy said, his face growing sad. "But she left me."

        "I know, Billy, and I'm sorry."

        Before Dean could say anymore, Billy grabbed him and began to kiss him with the same aggression he'd shown the night he found out about his father's affair. Dean didn't resist but he didn't fully give in, either. "I don't wanna talk about that shit," Billy said between kisses. "I just want to make you feel good."

        "Billy, wait - " Dean tried to get his sentence out while Billy went on kissing him. "We can't - do this - here. The ava - the av - Billy - "

        "It's okay. They won't hurt us." Continuing to push himself on Dean, Billy took his ass in his hands and squeezed him through his jeans, pressing their crotches together. "My gang will protect me. I show all demons respect. They won't let these avatars hurt us." He backed Dean against a wide tree, pushing Dean's legs open with his knee and putting himself between them.

        Dean started to protest, but only a loud, aroused moan escaped his lips as Billy pressed into him, hard, and rubbed against his cock through his clothes. His mind tried to shut off and give in to the pleasure of having a rough, fast, aggressive fuck, the kind only a man could give him because they were generally stronger. At least, this was as close to a fuck the two of them would ever get. But the big picture scratching at the back of Dean's mind wouldn't leave him alone. "Stop, Billy, we gotta talk." He tried to get his hands in between them so he could push Billy away.

        At that moment, Billy grabbed the tree behind Dean and used it as leverage to grind into him even harder, pulling at the same time that he thrust Dean upward. Dean was up on his tiptoes every time Billy ground against him. He cried out at the sudden overload of pleasure. "Bi... lly... God!"

        Billy moved his hips in little circles with every thrust. Flush against Dean, he whispered in his ear. "Give in to me. Give yourself to me."

        It was obvious Dean had already done that; he no longer protested, just moaned and gasped everytime Billy pressed against him.

        Not long after, they came within seconds of each other, Dean's arms wrapped around Billy's back and Billy's head on his shoulder. The back of Dean's shirt was a mess of dirt from the bark of the tree. For half a minute, they just held each other and panted. Then Billy relaxed, letting Dean down, fully on his feet.

        His voice colored with emotion, Billy said in Dean's ear, "I love you, Dean."

        Dean's response was instant. "Love you too, Billy."

        Dean wasn't sure what to do with the dead avatar. He eventually decided to saw through what was left of its trapped leg so it would look like it had chewed it off, then throw the body into a deep thicket of bushes where it hopefully would not be seen.

        When they reached the Impala, Dean brought up the subject of Billy's demons again. "I know that you've been talking to these demons for a long time, Billy, but you need to understand that they are not your friends. I'm worried about you. You need to talk to my dad about this."

        "Why would I talk to your dad?" Billy slid into the passenger seat.

        "Because..." Getting into the driver's seat, Dean shut his door. " dad knows a lot about demons."

        Looking confused, Billy asked, "How could your father know a lot about demons? Very few people can see them."

        How did he go about telling Billy the truth... "Uh... I kinda lied to you back there. My dad isn't a forest ranger or an animal control officer. He hunts monsters."

        "He... hunts monsters?"

        Dean glared at him across the seat. "You're actually going to use that tone with me after what you just told me?"

        "What tone?"

        "That 'Oh my God, what the fuck are you talking about?' tone. You claim to have communicated with demons since you were a kid, and this is unbelievable to you?"

        Billy shrugged. "I talk to demons; I know they exist. What the hell are you talking about?"

        Frustrated, Dean tried to explain. "Monsters. Werewolves, demons, vengeful ghosts and ghouls - "

        Billy began to laugh. "Are you kidding?"

        "No, I'm not kidding. My dad hunts them, all of them. He'll tell you that you shouldn't do what these demons want you to do. We can help you be rid of them, I know we can. We just have to tell him together."

        "I'm not telling your dad anything," Billy declared. "I don't want my demons to go anywhere."

        Dean had reached for the ignition, ready to start the car, but when he heard that, he turned to Billy again, desperation in his eyes. "Billy, you can't kill people. You can't kill Mrs. Prescott. Don't you understand that once you do that, your life will be over?

        "I brought you out here so you could get your aggression out on these avatars. You can't kill her, Billy. Please, please give up on this idea of killing her." Dean leaned across the seat and touched Billy's leg, to make a connection with him.

        Billy didn't say anything, just looked down at his hands while Dean made his plea.

        When he remained silent, Dean went on talking. "Demons are evil, Billy." An emotional pause. "A demon killed my mom."

        Billy shook his head. "Just because you had a bad experience with one doesn't mean all demons are evil."

        "A bad experience?"

        Billy tried to talk over him. "My demons help me. They know what I really need."

        Sitting back, Dean sighed heavily, thinking it over. "You don't know what's best for you in this situation. I'm telling my dad." He started the car.

        Billy's voice grew cold and calculated. "If you tell your dad about my demons, I'll tell him how you mewl when I suck your dick."

        Dean froze. The car rumbled and, when it wasn't switched into drive, died with a sputter. He glared at Billy, eyes steely. "You wouldn't dare."

        "Don't try me."

        They stared at each other for several long, tense moments, feeling each other out. Then Dean started the Impala again and drove off without a word. He didn't speak until they got to Billy's house.

        "This isn't over," Dean declared.

        Before Billy could lean down to the passenger side window and give his response, Dean gunned the gas and took off.

On to Chapter 12.

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