John Doe – spn fic chpt 1
Disclaimed – I wouldn't own them, just keep them happy.
Loved – my heart breaks.
Excerpted from: No Good Deed
"Well if you don't recognize it directly then it's a pretty safe bet it went after you out of revenge." Sam sighed.
"Revenge? What'd I ever do to him?" Dean asked then checked his volume and looked back at the empty bleachers. "Uh no."
"You killed one of its kin Dean... that djinn a couple years ago... remember?" Sam asked then noted his brother's expression, "What?" he followed the older man's line of sight to the empty bleachers and felt his heart skip a beat. Laura.
"She's gone," Dean turned but was caught by Sam's grip.
"Son of a bitch." He snarled, "There might be others." He glanced quickly around then pressed the gun back into Dean's hand before pointing toward the doors and nodding a go-ahead.
Taking a moment Dean grabbed the taller man by the arm and stuck his right hand forward, "Look, I don't know who this Dean is. My name is John. John Doe, s'good to meet you."
This isn't good, she thought as the sky outside the window turned from purple to lavender. Still, thankfully it wasn't hard to find a shadow as she turned into the darkened janitor's closet and crouched in the corner. Pain swarmed her from every angle, coupled with fear. Her chest hurt enough to make her want to scream, and her wrist pulsed and throbbed hotly between her left hand and her chest. The first thing she remembered was waking up with a hand pressed against her face. Then there was darkness. Then when she woke later there was pain and weight crushing the air from her lungs. Stars burst behind her eyes as she tried to breathe, it was almost enough to numb her enough not to feel a horrible cringing sense of vulnerability that came before a dull pressure between her legs. There was pressure and grinding burning and she knew he was pushing his fat floppy prick against her. When he couldn't get hard enough to do the job he brought his fists into play, feeding on the cries, pleas, and whimpers she couldn't keep herself from offering. Shame burned through her at the relief she felt when he finally got hard and the flying fists stopped.
Of course after he was done the bludgeon dull thumps and crushing wails and whacks that broke her in place after place started all over again. Bones cracked, her breathing caught, and when that giant man in the black leather biker jacket bent her arm back, snapping her wrist she couldn't have helped but cry out. I wish he killed me, she thought finding the darkest corner possible and squeezing herself into it in spite of, or perhaps even welcoming the knife-like pain in her ribs while she gave a hint of a thought to the men who'd rescued her. They both SEEMED nice... but nothing could be trusted, nothing and no one, no human could want her to be in their presence now. No man, no woman, they'd all know what'd been done to her, what happened, and no one would ever believe it wasn't her fault, that she hadn't somehow done something to deserve it. I'll stay here and just sleep. I'll sleep until there's nothing left and then maybe ... maybe I won't BE anymore. How long does it take to die of dehydration?
She pulled the warm dark hoodie that man had wrapped around her tight and breathed the scent deep into her and in spite of the stab in her side, comfort cradled her softly. She pulled the hem over her feet, crimped her knees deep into her chest, and pulled the hood over her head then fell into darkness.
"Dude, that's not funny." Sam frowned praying inside that Dean really was joking. "Please tell me you're fuckin' with my head."
The older man shook his head, "I thought... no... uh... nevermind." He shrugged flustered and motioned toward the door, "We should... go find the girl."
"The girl." Sam said, "do you know her name?" he asked.
Dean looked down to his left hand, examining the ring on his finger before shaking his head, "Uhm, not off the top of my head, no." he pulled the photo out of his pocket and handed it to the younger man who actually took the time to look at it.
"What does this mean, 'do you remember her?'?" he asked frowning deeply.
The older man shook his head and backed up a step. Sam closed the distance, his hand on his big brother's shoulders, "Dean. Talk to me. Why would someone ask you if you remember her?"
He shook his head and turned out of the younger mans' grip, "I don't..." he backed away, "I don't know, but... but I... don't."
"Don't what?" Sam asked feeling a tightening in his chest and a fuzzy light headedness numbing his brain. "Talk t'me Dean."
Big crystalline jade green eyes pleaded into his while the man's mouth tried to speak. "I... duh... I... the room... you... clothes..." he blathered, "the girl at the desk said..." he shook his head and licked his lips nervously, "Who are you?" he asked, "I mean. I have no idea who the hell you are, let alone who you might be to me."
Sam could've sworn he felt his heart fall through the floor as his knees threatened to buckle, "What?" he asked, "I'm Sam, Dean. I'm your brother. Please tell me you're screwing with my head dude. Please." He clutched the older man's face and delved into his eyes, "Please." He pleaded grasping his scrubs by the front and pulling him close.
Without any real emotion behind the move, Dean's arms came up breaking the younger man's grip and stepping back he warned, "Stay in your own space man."
"Dean. Listen... whatever that son of a bitch did to you, it doesn't' matter, we'll figure it out but right now we have to find Laura okay? She's hurt, and she's hurting, if the Ifrit fucked with your head enough that you don't know me you gotta know just one thing." He looked deep into his brother's eyes, "we have to help her. We have to find her and help her."
Dean looked down at his ring finger on his left hand, "She's my wife?" he asked.
Sam rolled his eyes and then his head on his neck, "We both love her." He nodded, "and she loves us."
"We have rings..." Dean held up his hand.
"It's... complicated." Sam grumbled, what the HELL are you doing! He wondered angrily but didn't attempt to explain. After all, what could be more complicated than trying to explain to your brother who just found out that he's bound to a woman you happened to think you're in love with. Yeah, it's complicated alright. I never felt this way before Lilith got her hands on me, I never felt this way until that fucking bitch raped me up one side and down the other... and to know the host is still out there and still pregnant...
"Complicated? I don't see a ring on your finger!"
Sam rolled his eyes, "You're not married Dean! There was no judge, no priest, no... anyone okay? You put a ring on her finger and put one on your own that's IT! Now can we please go find her?"
The older man frowned, obviously troubled by this revelation. Sam sighed, "Look, you're crazy in love with each other, that's the truth. When it comes to you both, that's the only thing that ever mattered, the rings," he shrugged, "you had a friend make them for you. You never needed a priest or a judge or... anyone." He explained haltingly.
Dean's eyes narrowed at the younger man he loves her, should I step back? "I don't remember loving her. Why don't I remember anything? You called him an 'it'." He pointed toward the Ifrit's corpse. "What aren't you telling me?"
"A lot. We don't have time for it right now. I'm guessing Laura's not remembering anything either or she never would have... she doesn't..." he shook his head and pulled his cell, dialing automatically.
"Do you think he did it?" Dean asked.
"That's what we're going to find out." He held up his finger, "Bobby? Sam. I've got another problem you got a sec?" he nodded then explained the situation while watching Dean move closer to the corpse, examining it carefully and wondering if the sight of it would spark a memory. "Not a damned thing. Not me, not Laura, hell he thinks his name is John Doe. Anything you can find out would be good." He nodded again, "So far okay, I mean he's still Dean it's not his nature that's changed just, he's like a clean slate man, wouldn't know a ghost if it moved through him y'know?" he drew a breath and sighed, "We think the same thing happened to Laura, it's a long story but she didn't recognize either of us. An Ifrit yeah. It's dead, it had a crony... not sure exactly what he was, maybe a ghoul?" he shrugged then felt the corners of his mouth turn down, "Really? So he might've just been a guy under its control? Great, yeah well he's dead too. Course he deserves it if he did what I think he did... yeah to her... you don't wanna know." He shrugged and sighed again, "I think so, what I DO know is the son of a bitch beat the crap out of her. Couple cracked or broken ribs, he broke her wrist... there were bruises everywhere Bobby."
Dean felt his mouth turn down as he listened intensely to Sam's side of the conversation while inspecting the Ifrit's face. Wow, I can hear it in his voice. If neither of us remembers each other why shouldn't he... cause it's not right! A guy doesn't go after another guy's girl it's that simple! There's gotta be a rule about it or something. But if we don't remember why we love each other then can we still feel that way? This is too much, I can't handle this right now. We just need to find her, get the hell out of here and to somewhere safe where we can figure this out. Grasping the creature by the chin he frowned deeply at it, "Did you do this to us? How do we un-do it?" he muttered then returned to the taller man just as he was hanging up. "You ready now?" he asked.
Sam nodded, "Bobby's gonna look into it, see what he can find out about powers attributed to Ifrits."
Dean nodded then as they turned toward the door, "What's an Ifrits?"
Sam shook his head and smirked, "It's a type of djinn, well genie."
"What like that chick in the harem pants? Mmm she was just..."
"Yeah," Sam nodded smiling wryly, recalling Dean saying almost exactly the same thing back in Illinois, "your nature is still the same."
"Is that good? Cause I kinda like the idea of being a good guy y'know? I don't feel like a bad guy."
Sam nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, "Yeah, you're a good guy Dean."
"And genie's really exist? Do they really grant wishes?" he asked then watched something sad cross the younger man's features.
"Depends on how you look at it," he shook his head, "we have to get your memory back."