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: 12 of 15 (4,646 words this part)


Chapter 12: Phantasm


        Dean paced the living room of Paul's apartment while telling this part of the story, the tenseness of the situation getting into his legs and making him too restless to stay seated.

        Paul was shaking his head. "My God. He was haunted by demons."

        "Yeah. And he liked it."

        "You said... you said that Billy called them... his forces?" A tremble crept through Paul's voice.

        "That was one nickname he used." Dean made the connection. "Oh, Paul... I'm sure that has no connection to the Forces within you. It's just a common way to refer to these types of things." When Paul went on leaning his forehead against his folded hands, Dean headed back to the couch to sit next to him. "Hey. Paul? Look at me. It's not the same thing."

        "How do we know that?" Paul mumbled without looking up.

        "Because - have they asked you to do anything bad? Told you to kill anyone?"

        "No."

        "You see?"

        "What Billy was experiencing, he was actually hearing their voices? These demons?" Paul had to press the subject further; he had to be sure before he acted on one more odd feeling from his sixth sense.

        "Yes. I'm positive."

        Sighing in relief, he tried to relax. "Okay. But there's some sort of correlation here. You can't tell me it's just a coincidence."

        "I get what you're saying." Dean rubbed Paul's shoulder. "Just calm down; it's okay."

        Paul let out a shaky breath and tried to smile. "Whatever my Forces are, they've never spoken directly to me. Not that I know of. I get feelings. I only speak to dead people.

        "Did you tell your dad about the demons?"

        "Not then. I was sure that Billy would make good on his threat if I told my dad anything." Pausing, Dean shook his head in regret and shame. "I should have told him. I should have told him right off." He lamented his decision for the hundredth time while Paul looked on him with sympathy. "The next couple weeks moved really fast. Billy and I avoided each other for a few days. I asked Bridget if Billy had ever told her anything really out of the ordinary about himself, and it didn't seem he had, not anything about the demons. But she did say that the abduction game kind of creeped her out sometimes, especially because she often smelled strange things when they played it alone. Rotten eggs... burnt matches..."

        Paul's eyes widened in shock. "Those are potential signs that demons are present."

        "That's what I think. Once I got her talking about it, Bridget spilled everything. Her eyes went all wide and her voice started to shake, and the more she told me, the weaker her legs became... I swear, the girl had to hold onto the lockers to keep herself from falling right over. She spilled all the details like she was in a trance.

        "Bridget said that there were times when they played this game that it felt like Billy wasn't the only one touching her. That sometimes Billy's dick got so engorged inside her that it felt like there were two of them."

        "Jesus Chri..."

        "But she said it didn't hurt," Dean continued, "that it was some of the most pleasurable sex she'd ever felt, and that it was almost like she couldn't be satisfied unless they played this game over and over."

        "She couldn't have an orgasm?"

        "No, exactly the opposite. Bridget had multiple orgasms until she was practically dripping down her thighs."

        Paul's eyebrows went up at not only the implications, but Dean's choice of language.

        "Then she described for me how one time while playing this game, Billy wanted to do it doggie style, and they did. And Bridge could feel Billy's hands on her; she knew exactly where they were the whole time. But there were other hands touching her. Icy cold fingers, fingering her clit, wrapped around her thighs, holding them open... then a tongue, licking her between the legs... and finally, Billy's dick became like steel. He was able to fuck her for so long that her legs and arms gave out." Dean blew out a long, heavy breath. "Afterward, the girl was so hot and bothered from recalling her story that she shoved me into a janitor's closet and jumped my bones."

        "Lord." Paul said what they were both thinking. "So the demons were using their connection to Billy to take pleasure in other people. That last thing, the... steel thing..."

        "Literally," Dean threw in with a smirk.

        After giving him a scolding glare, Paul finished, "It sounds like the demons were actually possessing him at times. The feeling of two penises, the prolonged rigidity... it's all typical incubus stuff."

        "We're thinking alike on this."

        "For all we know, the demons could have had some sort of thrall working on Bridget to keep her loyal to Billy, and ensure that their little plaything kept coming back for more. I'm sure Billy enjoyed it immensely. I mean, he already trusted these demons; why not let them take a ride around in his skin as long as it felt good for him too?" Paul said, shaking his head.

        "Yeah. I told Bridget, practically begged her, not to have sex with Billy again until I could make sure it was safe. I'm thankful that she listened to me." Running a hand over his face, Dean readied himself to begin the hardest part of the story to tell. "It was after that that my dad and the hunters began putting the final phase of their plan into action. Bill Harvelle staked out the woods and got a good count of how many avatars were left."

        "He was the one skilled in outdoor survival."

        "Right. The team had diminished the number of avatars by 75 percent. They did their research and figured out that the cult would probably call up more avatars to replace the ones we'd killed, and the next best time to do it would be the night of the winter solstice. So Dad decided that they should strike and strike hard before December 21st.

        "They planned on the afternoon of the 20th. On the night of December 19th, Maureen Prescott was murdered."

        Even though he knew the murder happened at some point, Paul still looked surprised. "Shit."

        "Yeah," Dean said, nodding. "I was messing around in my room and heard Mr. Prescott come in close to midnight. He was screaming and carrying on to my father; the man thought the cult must've found out about our attack and murdered his wife as an attempt at a distraction or something. Maybe revenge. I wanted to say something so badly... but I didn't. Even after everything Billy had said, I didn't think he'd really do it.

        "Then, even I got thrown off track. A man named Cotton Weary was quickly arrested for the murder. Sidney Prescott caught a glimpse of someone leaving her house with Cotton Weary's coat on just minutes before she found her mother's body on the bedroom floor, ripped open and gutted. That coat was found in his car, covered in Mrs. Prescott's blood. I went to Billy and asked him point blank if he'd killed her. I couldn't let it rest until I'd confronted him..."

*****

        It was during lunch that Dean finally found Billy, sitting on the floor in front of his locker with his legs laid out straight and feet crossed, drawing in his artist pad. Stu sat next to him, talking and laughing with Casey Becker. She looked up when Dean approached, which caused Stu to look up too; for the first time, Stu did not scowl or look annoyed when he saw Dean coming. He grinned.

        "Can I speak to Billy alone?" Dean said to Stu and Casey.

        "Sure. You do that." Stu took Casey's hand and helped her up. The way she was giggling and hanging on Stu, it was obvious they were dating. Dean didn't know for how long, but it didn't really matter. He did notice, however, that Stu and Casey kept staring at him as they got up and walked away with amused smirks on their faces, like they knew something about Dean that could be considered embarrassing. Dean wondered if Billy had told them something.

        Billy looked at Dean from under his hair. "What?"

        "Look, I know the last time I saw you we ended things off with a fight, but I really need to talk to you. Can we just be civil for five minutes?"

        "I guess."

        "Uh..." Dean suddenly realized that he had just requested that Billy be civil to him, but he was about to ask him something that could be considered quite noncivil. Even so, he crouched in front of him and asked that critical question. "I'm just going to come out and say it, because you know you've been talking about it for months and then... did you have anything to do with the death of Maureen Prescott?"

        Leveling a cold, steely look at him, Billy said, "How can you ask me that?"

        "Like I said, you've been talking about doing it for months, practically the whole year - "

        "The police have a prime suspect. Cotton Weary was caught with Maureen Prescott's blood all over his coat. He killed her in a jealous rage and then walked out just as Sidney was coming home; she saw him, Dean. How could I have anything to do with that?"

        Putting up a hand to interrupt, Dean asked, "What do you mean, a jealous rage? You said Weary killed her in a jealous rage."

        Billy smirked impishly. "Didn't you hear? It's all over the local news. Cotton Weary was having an affair with her. He claims that he had sex with Maureen and then left, but we all know he did one more thing before he left that house. Weary stabbed her to death. Ripped her up from one end to the other, from what I've heard. The guy knew she was married, but I doubt he knew about the other men until now. There are rumors that my dad and Weary were only the tip of the iceberg. A woman like that... it was only a matter of time 'til someone flew into a rage on that one." With a shrug, he finished, "Sidney doesn't believe her mother was fucking anyone else; she thinks Cotton raped her mom. I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth."

        It actually hurt, the thoughts that ran through Dean's mind when he heard the affection in Billy's voice as he spoke about Sidney. Still, he pressed the issue. "In the woods, when I killed the avatar, you told me you loved me. If that's true, then I want you to swear to me that you're telling me the truth now."

        "Dean..." Billy leaned forward, a serious, sincere look upon his face. "I do love you. No matter what happens, I will always love you. I did not kill Mrs. Prescott. But I do have to admit that if I could, I'd love to shake the hand of the man who did."

        Even after all Billy had said and done, that comment still surprised Dean; he blinked and tilted his head to one side, furrowing his brow. "How can you say a thing like that? That's Sidney's mother."

        Billy just shrugged. "It is what it is." He went back to shading his drawing.

        Dean leaned far enough forward to see what he was sketching. It was a drawing of a dark-haired girl. "Who's that?"

        That smirk again. "It's Sidney. I thought it might cheer her up."

        Dean felt that pang of hurt that was becoming all too familiar. "How come you never draw me?"

        "Guys don't care about that sort of thing."

        Now Dean shrugged. "Some guys do."

        Saying nothing at first, Billy kept scribbling on his drawing, filling in Sidney's hair. "You got the answer to your question. Now go away. I'm busy."

        "Why are you being like that?" Dean asked, surprised. He thought they were making up.

        Billy looked up at him. "You thought I murdered somebody. That has a tendency to turn me off." He went back to his drawing, ignoring Dean.

        "Aw come on, Billy. You know you've been talking about doing it for ages. And then you tell me about your... your little friends that smell like brimstone. What was I - "

        Suddenly, Billy put the drawing aside and leaned right into Dean's face. "Do you think I don't know that you've been asking Bridget questions about our game? Did you find out some interesting little tidbits?"

        "Billy, I'm just trying to protect you."

        "I don't need protecting. Just stay out of it, okay?" He sat back again, relaxing, and took up his drawing pad once more. "You can't take them from me."

        Dean didn't know what to say to make Billy understand how dangerous this was for him. "Do you really think you can deal with the devil and not get burned? They're just going to use you until they've accomplished what they want, and then throw you into the fire. How long until they decide they want Bridget all to themselves, huh? Are you really willing to allow her to get hurt or possibly killed just to please them?"

        For the last time, Billy took his attention off his drawing and looked up at Dean. "I would give them anything. Do you understand that? No one has been there for me as much as my forces have. No one. Not Bridget, not my mom, and certainly not you. So whenever this great betrayal is supposed to happen, you let me know, okay? Now get out of my sight." He folded his legs indian style and went on drawing.

        "Billy." Dean grabbed his knees and shook them. "Billy!"

        Billy ignored him.

        With a sigh, Dean stood up and walked away.

*****

        Looking at Paul, Dean shook his head in disbelief at the memory. "Later, I thought back and I realized what he'd said. 'No matter what happens, I will always love you.' Billy already knew what he was going to do to protect his demon friends.

        "It was the day before Christmas break. I walked into school and noticed that everyone was staring and laughing at me. Some guy jumped at me and yelled, 'Boo!' I just couldn't figure it out, not until I made it to my locker. Billy and Stu were waiting for me."

*****

        Dean glared at how Stu was hanging on Billy, his arm around his neck; he especially didn't like the triumphant, mischievous look on Stu's face. Stu hadn't smiled like that in months. Randy, Casey, and Troy were there too, milling around, waiting to see what would happen.

        Dean pointed to his locker. "You're blocking my locker."

        "Are we? Oh, sorry," Stu snickered. "Maybe you should get out your ghostbusting equipment and try it out on us. Maybe we're really ghosts."

        Stu, Casey, and Troy waved their arms about like ghosts and wailed, "Wooooooooo!"

        Randy watched them, his expression confused.

        What the hell were they - Dean looked right at Billy, who was leaning against the lockers, smirking lazily at him. Had he told them - he hadn't. He couldn't have. "What the hell are they talking about, Billy?"

        "Have you already forgotten what you told me about your dad, Shaggy?"

        Stu cut in, "Yeah Shaggy, how you and Fred and Scooby go around busting ghosts in the Mystery Machine?"

        Casey laughed loudly.

        Dean's face fell. Billy had told them. And he made it all out like a joke. Like Dean was crazy. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

        "Don't even try that now. Everyone knows what you told me. About how you and your dad kill monsters; is that how you put it? It's his job, apparently." Looking at the others, Billy started to laugh all over again, as he must have when he told them this story.

        "It's his job?" Troy said with a snicker. "What do people pay him in, boo-llion?"

        They all laughed that time.

        Dean put his head down. He had been betrayed. There was no going back now.

        Seeing that look, Randy seemed to feel bad that he had laughed; he tried to get them to explain because he hadn't heard Billy's story yet. "Really, guys, what the hell are you talking about?"

        "Just what I said," Billy began. "Dean told me his dad hunts monsters for a living. You know, werewolves, ghosts, vampires and all that shit - he thinks it all really exists."

        "And his dad's a big vamp-killing hero," Stu added with a high-pitched laugh. "Is that why he's got a whole arsenal of guns? He kills monsters; he's not a nut or anything."

        Dean started to say that as far as he knew, vampires didn't exist, but thought better of it.

        Randy tried to be sensitive. "Dean, you know I love horror movies just as much as you do, but you gotta step away, man. You're getting way too into it if you believe all that shit is real."

        While he didn't laugh, the others did, almost too hard to control themselves.

        "Come on, guys. Hey, maybe he was role-playing." Still trying to defend Dean's sanity, Randy attempted to get everyone's attention. "You were trying to get Billy to role-play with you when you said those things, right?"

        Dean just shook his head in disbelief. After all that had happened, he still couldn't believe Billy would do this to him. "Don't worry about it, Randy. I'm out of here."

        "No, Dean, stay. I've got a naughty leprechaun in my pocket and I need you to take care of 'im." Stu put his hand in his pocket, shaking it around wildly like there was an active little creature in there. "Come on Dean, he's dancing an Irish jig on my balls. I know you wanna get in there and take care of him!"

        "As badly as he wants to take care of Billy's naughty leprechaun?" Troy added. He and Casey leaned against the lockers, nearly howling with laughter.

        Dean had turned to leave, but now he pivoted back around to just glare at Billy. Had he really done what these new comments implied he'd done? Billy was standing against the lockers with his arms crossed, grinning back, no apology in his eyes.

        Now Randy was really confused, caught between the friendly affection he had for Dean and what the other's jokes seemed to be implying. "Okay, now I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

        Before Billy or Stu could explain that one with another crass joke, Dean looked Billy in the eye and said, "I hope you and your 'forces' will be very happy together," and just walked away.

        "See ya, Shaggy!" Stu called.

        Dean could still hear their laughter all way down the hall.

        He would skip school. After the Christmas break, he could just change to another one; John had them do it all the time when they were moving around anyway. When he saw Tatum standing outside a classroom, talking to a friend, he decided he had to do one more thing before he left this school forever.

        She looked at him like he was insane, all wide-eyed and uncomfortable. "Uh, hi Dean. Whadda you want?"

        He spoke to Tatum's friend. "Can I talk to her alone for a minute?"

        "No, don't leave."

        "I'm not going to do anything to anyone." When no one moved, Dean begged, "Please? It's really important."

        The friend finally agreed, hanging around close by.

        "What?"

        Dean sighed. Stu and Billy, probably Stu, had already gotten to her. "I know what Billy and Stu are saying about me. But you don't have anything to fear. I won't hurt you. I just needed to warn you about Stu."

        Dubious that she had any reason to fear Stu, Tatum scoffed and said, "Warn me?"

        "Yeah. You shouldn't date him, ever. In fact, don't go anywhere with him or Billy again. Don't even go to Billy's parties. They're dangerous, both of them."

        Tatum rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I don't even know why you're telling me this; Stu wants Casey Becker, not me."

        "But I know you're interested in him. If he and Casey ever break up, and he comes after you, don't go with him. Alright? There's a lot you don't know about Stu and Billy." Dean tried to keep it as vague as possible so he didn't have to get into the more personal details.

        But of course, Tatum couldn't just accept that answer. "Oh, like what?"

        "Please just trust me."

        Rolling her eyes again, she said, "This is about all that crazy shit you believe, right? Are Billy and Stu werewolves or something?" She widened her eyes and wiggled her fingers in mock surprise.

        "No, I don't think they're werewolves. But..." How did he explain this? Dean decided to focus on something Tatum might be able to believe. "You should know that they are involved in a relationship. Stu sucks Billy's dick on a regular basis."

        "Oh, that's rich," Tatum laughed. "You are so jealous it isn't even funny. Now let's look at this picture. Stu, girlfriend. Billy, girlfriend. You, no girlfriend. Unless you count that slut you hang out with."

        "Billy doesn't have a girlfriend."

        "Are you blind? Billy's been dating Sidney Prescott since March," she informed him. "Sid goes to another school, but she'll be coming here after the Christmas break. After her mother's murder, people at her other school have been saying such awful things about Mrs. Prescott that she just has to get away from there."

        Yes, Dean guessed he was blind. "They aren't dating. Billy and Sid, they're just... friends." It was slowly dawning on Dean that he was a colossal fool.

        "You just keep telling yourself that," Tatum said in a patronizing tone, patting his arm. "Sidney's practically my best friend. I think I would know if she and Billy were together."

        "Yeah." This was too much. Dean gave up. "I guess you would."

        On his way out of the school, he exited through the doors that led to the alcove, the alcove where he, Billy, and Bridget had had their first threesome. No one was out there, so he stopped for a moment to lament the loss of his carefree adolescence. How could Billy do these things to him? How could he humiliate him like that?

        Someone came out the same doors. Dean turned to see that it was Troy. "Hey Shaggy," he chuckled.

        "Get the fuck away from me, man. I'm not in the mood for this shit," Dean replied, and started to walk away.

        "Did you really think you could save him, Winchester?"

        That tone... Dean didn't like how threatening that tone sounded. He looked up and right into Troy's eyes.

        Troy's completely black eyes.

        When Dean saw those black irises, he remembered something his father had said once. About how you could tell if someone was possessed by a demon by looking at their eyes. This is what he meant.

        "I mean, really, you thought you could love Billy into giving us up, when Billy's been ours since the day he was born?" Troy said with a grin.

        Dean dropped his backpack and roughly shoved Troy up against the wall. "Who are you?"

        "Ooh, yeah, you know how I like it."

        "Who are you, goddamn it?!"

        The thing inside Troy laughed. "My name is Alistair. I'm one of Billy's 'forces'."

        "What are you doing to him?" Dean growled.

        "Everything you thought we were doing to him," Alistair snickered. "We have great plans for Billy, much more than we've already accomplished."

        "What have you done?!"

        "Oh sure, I'm just going to spill it all!" Alistair shoved Dean back so he'd let go of him. He wanted to strut around while he played with the Winchester whelp. "Now if you'll get out your paper and pen, I'm going to dictate for you our master plan."

        "Are you - if you are, I'll - "

        "Am I the demon who killed your mother? No, I didn't have that particular pleasure. You'd know if I had, though, because your mother would have been fucked up, down, and sideways first."

        Dean rushed at him and tried to push him to the ground, but Troy had become like a brick wall; Dean just bounced off and found himself down instead. "People possessed by demons are like steel, Winchester. Learn it, know it, be it."

        "Don't say shit about my mom! Ever!"

        "Aww, you gonna cry?" Alistair circled Dean as he spoke. "You've been thinking ever since our little Bridget told you about our activities with her that at least one of us might be an incubus, haven't you? Well, that's one thing you're right on." He pointed to himself. "When I went to her this morning, I just had to give her one look and she spilled everything about her conversation with you. You think you can make her stay away? I've already got that girl wrapped around my finger. Her will is mine now."

        "Stay away from her!"

        Alistair snickered again. "Your little threats don't scare me, boy." Crouching down, he taunted Dean further. "I'm the one who got little Bridget into anal sex. She begs for it now. Soooo tight. I love it." He leaned into Dean's face. "I'm sorry that you and Billy don't get along anymore. I was hoping he could finally talk you into letting him fuck you up the ass. You look like you'd be a blast to fuck."

        A shiver rushed up Dean's spine, not only because this was a demon talking to him that way, but because for just a second, he kind of wanted exactly what Alistair described. That incubus thrall.

        "Whadda ya say, Dean? Before you and Billy part ways, one fuck for the road?" Alistair brushed a finger along Dean's chin.

        A second later, Dean was scrambling up off the pavement. He backed away in a daze. Now he understood why Bridget had so much trouble giving it up, even after all the weird things she'd felt during sex with Billy.

        "Awww." Alistair pretended he was disappointed. "Oh well. And you're so pretty too."

        "Stay away from me. My dad's going to wipe the floor with you," declared Dean.

        "Is he? Are you sure you want to get him involved?" He moved a little closer. "Because he might not like to hear what you've been doing. The things you and Billy do when he's not around... and all the things we could invent..."

        Dean tried to think of a good comeback, a threat, anything that would keep this monster quiet. "He'll never believe it."

        "Are you sure? Do you think your father hasn't noticed how close you and Billy have become? Do you think he doesn't suspect anything?"

        Swallowing hard, Dean had no response. Did his father suspect something?

        Alistair continued. "Maybe all your father needs is one little push to accept that his son is a cocksucker."

        Dean tried the only thing he could. "Maybe so. But he'll still send your evil, worthless ass back to hell."

        "Now how can he do that when Troy isn't possessed?" Before Dean could even begin to find meaning for that cryptic remark, Troy opened his mouth and screamed. Black iridescent smoke flowed out of his mouth and disappeared into the sky. Dean watched it go in shock; he'd never seen anything like that before.

        As Troy fell unconscious to the ground, Dean came to the realization that the demon had just escaped, and he had no idea if it would be gone from their lives forever or would someday return.


Notes: Some fans have written fic about Alistair being an incubus and screwing the shit out of Dean while he was in hell. I didn't find either actor they got to play Alistair to be at all attractive, but the idea of the demon inside those men being a sex machine is very appealing. So, I gave him a different body. :D

*****

Chapter 13: American Psycho


Chapters: 13 of 15 (2,652 words this part)


        "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry he did that to you," Paul said, stroking the inside of Dean's thigh. "I know it must have hurt."

        Dean leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss. "It did. Billy even had the gall to try to apologize. That night, I was upset so I took a pain pill; my dad always had them around. These were strong enough to knock me out pretty good. I just didn't want to lie awake all night thinking about it, you know?"

        Paul nodded, still lightly rubbing his thigh.

        "While I was sleeping, there were noises that barely woke me up. I was just too out of it. Normally, the sound of that window had me up in a second. This time, I just remember hearing something odd and going right back to sleep."

        "Billy came in?"

        "Seems so. I woke up some time after he left me the note. The window was open, curtains blowing in the breeze... he'd drawn me a picture of myself. After the comment I made, Billy had drawn me a picture to try to apologize. It was sitting on top of my footlocker. He'd also written me a note across the footlocker with a chalk rock or something; his handprints were on the locker in chalk. The note said, 'I'm sorry, but you left me no choice. Please don't hate me.' I got a rag and washed it off." With a frown, Dean sighed. "Did he think it'd be that easy for me to forgive him?"

        Paul almost told him what'd he'd always been taught about forgiveness being something you do for yourself, but he didn't think Dean would receive the message very well right now. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry he hurt you so bad."

        Dean tried to put it behind him, continue with the story. "My dad and his group took care of the Chaos cult, by the way. At least for the time being. Mr. Prescott wanted to do it for his wife. He was convinced for a while that Cotton Weary was a member of the cult, but there was never any evidence of it. I think that's just what he wanted to believe.

        "They mounted this big offensive against the cult and killed all their avatars. The leader of the cult pulled a gun on them; someone shot him and he died. I don't know anymore about it than that."

        "Your dad wanted to keep you out of it?"

        "I think so. The cult pretty much disbanded after that. A group is only as strong as its leader, even one that is built on disorder."

        Paul nodded.

        "Christmas came and went. It was okay. Dad spent all his time looking for our next case. I knew what was going to happen as soon as I saw the newspapers from Colorado that Drew Tripp sent him. In a way, I was really glad for it." Dean frowned again. "In many ways, I was glad for it."

        "You were about to move again."

        "Yes. I came in the house the day before New Year's and Dad was packing. I just started packing with him. I couldn't wait to go, to get away from all the pain and embarrassment Billy had caused me. Didn't fight it at all. Poor Sammy." He shook his head at the memory. "He came in and saw us packing..."

        Dean remembered the look on Sam's face, the hurt, betrayed expression in his eyes. His face just fell when he saw those boxes. "No! I won't go!" Sam had yelled, near tears.

        "You can't stay here by yourself," said John.

        "I can live with Ricky's family. I know he'd let me stay."

        "Don't be an idiot, Sam. You're staying with your family."

        Sam turned on his brother. "Dean, you're old enough to get a job. We can stay here, keep the house."

        "Sammy, I'm only sixteen. It's just ain't happening."

        After looking at them both, the first tears rolling out of his eyes, Sam cried, "I hate you!" and ran to his room.


        "Sammy was pretty much inconsolable. He eventually started helping us pack in silence. He wouldn't even talk to me. I felt awful. But there was nothing I could do. I guess he thought I could talk Dad out of it or something."

        "You were only sixteen," Paul offered.

        "I know. But I was his big brother."

        Paul didn't think he had anything to say that would make Dean feel better, though he wished he did. "When did you move?"

        "First few days of January. But a few things happened first. For starters, Bridget came to say goodbye."

*****

        Dean stood in the front doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. "Hi."

        "Hi," Bridget said. They were both a bit sullen at this moment. "You're really moving?"

        "Yeah. My dad got a job in Colorado."

        "Oh. Well, good luck." Bridget looked down at the small porch, kicking a crack in the cement. "I'm really sorry for what Billy did to you. I don't know why he did it, and I'm really mad at him for hurting you like that. I don't think I'm going to talk to him anymore."

        "That's better, Bridge. Really. Billy's dangerous. I wasn't sure about that before, but I'm sure now. Here." Dean went into his pocket and pulled out a St. Benedict medal. "I want you to wear this, okay? It's a St. Benedict medal. Don't ever take it off."

        She put it over her hand and looked at it. "Silver. Pretty. Why is it important?"

        "It will protect you against evil, specifically demons." Dean cleared his throat. "You'll need it if you ever go around Billy again."

        After putting the necklace on over her head, Bridget also cleared her throat, trying to decide how to ask him about the rumors. "You bring up demons... Billy said that you told him that you believe in demons. That you and your dad know how to fight them. Is that true?"

        Dean wanted to believe that Bridget wouldn't turn on him. He didn't know who he could trust anymore, but he took a chance on her anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, it's true." He paused to see if she would respond. When Bridget said nothing, he asked, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

        "No," she said with a shake of her head. "I believe you."

        "And why is that?"

        "Because of the things that happen while Billy and I are alone. He's got something... something around him. I don't know what it is, but it creeps me out." Bridget shuddered. "I lose all control when I'm with him. It scares me sometimes."

        "I'd be the first one to encourage you never to hang out with him again." For some reason, that made them both laugh.

        "Well, I better go home before my dad figures out where I am. Thank you for the necklace, Dean."

        "Wait." Dean went into the house and came back out with his footlocker. "Would you keep this for me? I don't want to lug it out to Colorado, and... well, if you have it, it'll give us a reason to never lose touch." He grinned. "I'll come back and get it someday. Whadda ya say?"

        Bridget was tearing up. "Yes, I'll keep it. There's plenty of room under my bed."

        "Unless you're going to hide a boyfriend under there."

        She began to laugh, wiping at her eyes. "With the dad I have, that's a valid point."

        After he'd put the footlocker in her trunk, Bridget turned to him and kissed his cheek. Then she burst into tears. "I'm gonna miss you, Dean."

        "I'll miss you too, Bridge. You be strong." They shared a long, heartfelt hug before she turned to go.

        They both spotted her father's car coming down the street.

        She sighed, long and deep. "You wanna know the biggest reason I believe you about the monsters?"

        "Why?"

        As she'd done many times before, Bridget readied herself to deal with her father's rage. "Because I live with two of them."

*****

        "Did her dad do anything to her?" asked Paul. His eyes shined with unshed tears in reaction to the emotions he'd gleaned off Dean while he told the story of the last time he saw Bridget.

        First Dean smirked, then he laughed at the memory. "He didn't have a chance. The asshole started yelling at her for being with me after he'd told her not to, and my dad heard and came outside. He wound up punching Mr. Bishop out."

        Paul couldn't help but laugh too. "And after he scolded you for doing it."

        "That's why it's so funny."

        "It's not like the guy didn't deserve it."

        "And we were moving anyway, so why not burn a few last bridges?"

        They shared a good laugh. "The St. Benedict medal was a great idea. I hope she kept it on." Paul knew his next question was an unpleasant one, but he had to ask it. "Did Billy come to say goodbye?"

        A bitter half-smile crossed Dean's face. "Yes. Unfortunately for us, he did."

        At that moment, there came a wrap at the door. "Paul, it's us!" Evie called.

        Paul went to answer it. Dean mumbled to himself, "Great, just in time for me to tell half the story over again."

*****

        Dean thought he could carefully edit the story so not even Paul would find out about the more embarrassing parts, but apparently, having a little brother made that impossible.

        "Billy only got worse over the summer of 1995. There wasn't much I could do about it because I was gone for the summer. Our dad sent us away to Torrance to train with a Japanese family of hunters."

        A mischievous grin spread across Sam's face, and he said what he was thinking before he realized what a bad idea it was. "Oh, because Dad wasn't happy that you and all your friends got chlamydia," he said, and snickered like a champion little brother.

        Wincing, Dean put his hand over his face. Paul gaped, Alva raised an eyebrow, and Evie simply snorted out a derisive laugh. "Thank you, Sammy," Dean said with a very unamused glare.

        Sam looked at everyone's reactions and cringed himself. "Ooh... I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

        "Sam wet the bed 'til he was nine," said Dean, grinning with a vengeful look in his eye.

        "I did not!"

        "Okay, ten."

        Clearing his throat, Alva slapped his hand down on the arm of the chair. The sound brought all attention to him. "Can we just get on with the story?"

        Dean gave his brother one last exasperated look before going on with the tale.

        "...And that brings us back to the night Billy paid us a visit," Dean finished. It was nearly eight in the evening now.

        He'd left out any details that would reveal the true nature of his relationship with Billy. Certain parts, though, could be skillfully edited and were still included, like the way he and Billy continued to share Bridget. Dean noticed that every time he brought that up, Evie made a disgusted face and shifted in discomfort. He refused to be ashamed of that; it was his life to lead, not hers.

        "I still don't understand what he was trying to accomplish with that," Sam remarked.

        "It was his last chance to give me the big 'hidey ho fuck you'." Dean looked around, not sure if they'd gotten it. "Just to let me know that he knew I was leaving and couldn't resist taking one last shot."

*****

        The night that Billy came, John was away in Colorado, taking some of their things to their new apartment. He and the Tripps already had a case laid out, one that they estimated would take at least three months to finish. An apartment made more sense than a motel, although it was a "pay by the month" apartment building.

        In charge of his little brother for the whole weekend, Dean made them spaghetti with pre-made frozen meatballs that he could just drop in the sauce to warm up; Sammy did the garlic bread. Occasionally, his mind wandered to Billy. It was their last weekend in the house. Dean felt like there should be something said between them before he left Woodsboro, but knew it would not be a pleasant conversation. It would just be a fight that would go nowhere and accomplish nothing. He would tell Billy how much he'd hurt him with his lies, and again express concern over the supernatural forces surrounding him, and Billy would say that he had to do it to keep his demons, and once again threaten to tell John about his bisexual son if Dean did anything to take them away from him.

        Any effort would be pointless. Still, Dean wished he could do something not to leave it like this.

        Sam was in his room reading comic books while Dean loaded the dishwasher for the last time. That was when he heard the noise in the hall.

        It was a scraping sound, like the edge of an object running along the wall. Taking a peek around the corner, Dean saw no one. "Sammy?"

        "Yeah?" Sam called.

        "Were you just in the hall?"

        "No."

        Dean went down the hall to his room. The window was open, curtains blowing in the wind.

        That wasn't the way he'd left it.

        "Sammy, come 'ere!" He went across the hall to Sam's room.

        Sam was just getting up off his bed, where he'd been lying on his stomach, reading. "What?"

        "There's somebody in the house. Come with me."

        "Who's in the house?" Understandably confused, Sam tried to peek out his door, but Dean held him close to him.

        "Stay close to me. Head for the living room."

        The guns were in the living room.

        As they stepped into the hallway, Dean saw a white blur coming at them from his bedroom. Billy must've been hiding in his room somewhere. Pulling Sam back, he moved to one side just in time to avoid the long hunting knife in Billy's hand. The blade grazed off the wall. Dean put Sam behind him, swept his leg at Billy's ankles, and roundhoused Billy off his feet.

        "Go, go!" he yelled, pushing Sam before him. Sam jumped over Billy and ran for the living room. Dean took a moment to look down and realized with disgust that Billy was wearing a white sheet over his head, on which he'd drawn a ghost face - two big black eyes and a wailing black mouth. Billy's brown eyes peeked out from two small holes he'd cut in the sheet. Shocked and angry that Billy would even try something like this, Dean first kicked the knife out of his hand, then kicked him in the side.

        Billy yelled in pain, doubled over. When Dean went to kick him again, Billy caught his foot and tried to push him over. Dean was still clutching one of the doorjambs, trying to keep himself upright, when Sam came into the hall with a shotgun.

        "Hey!" he called, and pumped it, ready to shoot.

        Billy looked at him. He seemed to think it over for a moment, then released Dean's foot, putting up his hands. Dean whipped the sheet off his head.

        "Billy, what the fuck are you doing?!" he hollered. Dean went over and took the gun from Sam, taking over.

        Panting, Billy smiled mischievously. It only made Dean want to pull the trigger. "I'm just playing, Dean. I wasn't gonna hurt anybody."

        "Do you think I'm stupid?! We're not on good terms at all, and you come in here with a knife, dressed as a ghost?"

        Keeping his hands visible, Billy got up, using every sultry look on Dean that he could. Maybe in the past, those innocent, unassuming, and sexy looks might've worked, but not now. "I just had to come and say goodbye, Dean. You're moving, aren't you?"

        "Yeah. Thank God. I can't wait to get away from a town that has insane assholes like you in it. I mean, sure, people might fuck me over and betray my trust in my new home, but at least I can hope they won't be batshit crazy too." He kept the gun trained on Billy's chest, aimed for his heart.

        "You know why I had to do it."

        "Why did you even bother trying to apologize?" Dean gestured with the gun toward the foyer beyond the hall. Billy slowly and carefully moved where Dean wanted him to, hands still plainly visible. "If you ever come near my family again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

        "You don't mean that."

        "You can bet I goddamn well do. Open the fucking door."

        Billy did. Dean handed the gun back to Sam, who trained it right on Billy again. "Get out of my house and never come back."

        Stepping outside, Billy grinned one last time. "Don't I at least get my knife back?"

        Dean punched him in the face so hard that it was obvious Billy would be left with at least a black eye and probably a bruised ego. He slammed the front door, leaving Billy flailing in the grass.

        For the first time since they'd moved into that house, Dean locked his bedroom window.

On to Chapter 14.


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