Two brothers hunting Dark creatures have to catch a bus.

Warnings: Threesome (duh), incest (double duh), mild alcohol, fairly mild swearing, references to infidelity, explicit penetrative sex.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling retains the ownership of all characters and settings borrowed from the Harry Potter series of books. The Supernatural television program is owned by its creator, Eric Kripke, various other writers including Sera Gamble, Ben Edlund and Jeremy Carver, and Wonderland Sound and Vision.
Author's notes: I wrote this for the lj "bill_ficathon" fest, for "fluffy_llama". Many thanks, again, to "emansil_12" for the beta!

You don't need to know anything about Supernatural to enjoy this, but I had fun stealing some things from that show and imposing them upon Weasleys. I noticed that "fluffy_llama"'s user info mentioned her loves for Weasleycest and Wincest, so I decided to fuse the two.


Charlie and Bill sat in yet another identikit one star hotel room. It had been a long time since they'd been back to the Burrow. There was an Apocalypse approaching. That may or may not have been Charlie's fault. What was without question was that Europe was now swarming with more Dark Creatures than it had been even in Voldemort's day; it was Bill and Charlie Weasley's task to get rid of them.

"Finland?" Charlie asked despairingly. "Freak storms in Finland?"

"That's what Kingsley said. Have you got a problem with Finland?" Bill secured his wand and his anti-demonic knife side by side through his belt.

"Not per se. Very nice in the summer, I hear. Twenty four hour sunlight in parts."

"Is that right? Very handy for seeing banshees by, I'd imagine."

"More banshees?"

"Some Boggarts, too." Bill shrugged on his jacket. "Ready?"

"Great. Boggarts." Charlie remained splayed out on the bed. "Bet yours is still Fleur."

"Well, we won't find that out unless we get there, will we? And it's not funny; a full Veela in a rage with the claws and wings and all is a bloody terrifying thing!"

"Quarter Veela."

"Still scarier than any of your exes."

"Should have thought of that before you cheated on her with that vampire mediwitch."

"Charlie! Are we going to waste the day reliving my love-life, or are we off to Finland?"

"See, here's the thing." Charlie sat up on the bed. "We're currently in Valetta without a Portkey booked, and it's a day's broom ride away from the nearest international Floo, so what with Apparating distances being what they are, it's going to take us at least three days to hop it to Finland, by which time all the Boggarts, demons, Banshees and vampire mediwitches will have moved on to—"

Bill just sighed and rolled his eyes. He swept out of the room and down the stairs, confident that his brother was going to follow him. When Charlie lumbered outside into the Maltese heat, with his backpack hanging off one shoulder, Bill took a second to make eye contact and grin at him, before sticking his wand out.

Charlie's mouth flew open at the screech of brakes which followed that, and stared stupidly at the triple-decker, purple bus which materialised in the car park next to them.

"You are kidding me," Charlie said slowly. "Since when is the Knight Bus international?"

A familiar figure with a peaked cap pushed back on his head leaned out of the folding doors as they opened, "Since the Ministry decided their Hunters could do with a bit of help," said Stan Shunpike. "All aboard! Stand clear of the doors, move on down to the back of the bus." He gave Bill a wink as he boarded. "All empty on the top floor as it happens. Nice extra-wide four poster at the back."

"I remember it well," Bill purred.

Charlie closed his mouth and climbed aboard.

"No need to look so surprised!" Stan said, with a friendly shove to Charlie's upper arm. "What was you thinking, you'd get to drive your own Impala?"

Charlie followed Bill's long legs up the first staircase. The bus lurched and the windows blurred even as he got onto the first step. He clung to the rail and swallowed his breakfast back down. By the time he emerged onto the middle deck, the view from the windows was of a small Scottish market town, with the Highland mountains rising beyond. A tight-lipped wizard sat in one of the armchairs, concentrating on the huge book on his knee. The only other passenger on that level was a portly, dozing witch carrying a chicken in an amber cage.

Charliee heard Ernie and Stan below him, congratulating Florrie Greengrass on the birth of her grandson and wishing her a good day with him. Then he mounted the second set of stairs. The lurch as the bus took off again threw him onto his face on the second from top step.

When he made it to the top deck, he saw that the bus was trundling along a stony beach, and that Bill was relaxing across a wide, velvet-draped bed at the back of the bus. His boots, wand and weapons lay on the floor beside him. Charlie rubbed at his nose. It probably wasn't worth healing. Just a bruise.

He went over to join Bill on the bed.

"How long do you reckon this'll take?" he asked Bill.

Bill shrugged, so Charlie kicked off his own boots. He pulled a couple of butter beers out of his rucksack, used his wand to pop off the caps, and then handed one to Bill before lying down next to him.

Stan's head popped up through the stairwell. "Alright there, gentlemen? Now, where is it you're both wanting to go to on this fine day?"

"Finland," Bill said.

"Any chance you could be a little more precise than that?"

"Where the freak storm is. And the banshees, boggarts and bad stuffs," Charlie replied.

"Ah. Right, well, I'll put Ernie onto locating your exact destination. It'll be thirty sickles, but I'll bill the Ministry for that. I don't suppose you'll be wanting the hot chocolate or the toothbrush and hot water bottle. I hope you don't mind if we drop off our other passengers before depositing you at your destination. Just in respect of public safety, you understand."

Bill sat up. "We are kind of against the clock here. How many other passengers do you have on today?"

Stan shook his head in a placating manner. "Only another three stops. Won't take half a mo'."

The bus screeched to another halt, disturbing Stan's balance not an iota.

"Just the two more stops now. You gentlemen enjoy your beers!"

"Do you want one?" Charlie reached into the bag.

"Not on duty. But I might let you twist me arm later." Stan's head disappeared again.

Outside the window, a medieval cathedral shot past.

"That's not all I'd twist," Bill muttered.

"You fancy that?"

"You don't?"

Charlie chuckled. "Could do."

"Well worth coming up to the top deck for, I can tell you. Those ears give you something to hold on to."

"You've been here before?" Charlie asked. "Of course you have. This very bed? You and him?"

Bill nodded. "But I don't mind sharing this time."

The brothers looked at each other for several seconds.

"So we'll take him up on that drink afterwards?" Bill checked.

"If we don't start planning a strategy for defeating banshees, instead of one for bedding ticket inspectors then there's not going to be an afterwards," Charlie responded, as the bus squealed to another stop.


It was evening by the time they'd defeated the Dark creatures. Charlie wiped the blood off his blade onto the cloak of a dead Dementor. "That took longer than I'd thought."

"What happened to your all-day sunshine?"

"Must be further North." Charlie squared his shoulders and straightened his back. "Fancy a beer?"

"That's not all I fancy."

Charlie's eyes brightened. "Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that. We'll be needing transport. I don't see any motels round here."

The two brothers surveyed the barren, snowy plain, empty apart from the corpses of a few hundred Dark creatures.

Bill shook himself and stuck his wand out. The Knight bus sprayed them both with crimson slush as it braked.

Stan stood back as they boarded. The jacket of his uniform was unbuttoned and his shirt was untucked. "Where to this time, gents?"

"Can you recommend a good hotel?" Charlie asked.

Bill and Stan exchanged a look.

"Tell you what," Stan said slowly, as the doors closed, "strictly speaking, we're off shift. We've got one more fare to drop home then this old charabanc's parking up at the depot for the rest of the night. The other team's started taking on passengers already. Ernie's looking forward to a nice hotpot and a spot of shut eye, isn't that right, Ern?"

Ernie grinned short-sightedly at them, then started up the engine. Bill and Charlie were thrown against the doors as they closed. Stan sauntered backwards between the empty beds. The Weasley brothers righted themselves and followed.

"So, you might as well take advantage of the beds on offer," Stan continued, jerking his head upwards with a knowing leer. "Maybe that big one on the top floor."

"And, um, what about you, Stan? You got a hotpot in your immediate future?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"I suppose I could join you for that butterbeer before I knock off for the night. If you're asking."

"Oh, we're asking alright," Bill replied.

The two Weasleys made it to the middle deck before the bus stopped for the last time. They stepped out of the way of a queasy looking Madame March who staggered down the stairs dragging a new cauldron behind her, before proceeding to the top deck. The bed was just as they had left it.

They kicked off their boots, drew a few anti-demonic symbols on the condensation on the windows, tucked a knife under the pillow, and dropped the rest of their weapons onto the floor. They were sitting on the bed drinking butter beers by the time the bus shot through a narrow alleyway and into a corrugated iron-fronted railway arch. The metal front squeezed up and the bus ducked down to get in.

The inside of the depot roof was decorated with cobwebs. Bill began pulling round the purple velvet bed drapes. He snuffed out enough candles to create a soft, romantic atmosphere.

Stan climbed up to join them. "Well, that's Ernie off out of the way." He looked around him. "I like what you boys have done up here.

"Butter beer?" Charlie pulled three out of his rucksack.

"Wouldn't say no."

Stan sat down on the bed between the two brothers and, for a long moment, none of them spoke. They enjoyed the silence and the drinks.

"So," Bill said eventually, "What hours do you work?"

"Twelve hours on, twelve hours off, every day of my life since I walked out of those Hogwarts gates when I was sixteen. Apart from the stint in Azkaban and that other period I prefer to forget. One advantage of the Imperious , though, is you don't really know what's going on, so there's not much to remember anyway. You boys did a long old stint out there on the frozen wastes today. That usual for you?" Stan asked.

"Some days we just sit around waiting for news, sometimes go half a week without sleep." Charlie finished off his bottle. "But that was a longer session than most."

Bill looked into Stan's face and picked the peaked cap off his head. "I've still got energy left for fun, though. How about you?" He dropped the cap onto the pile of weapons and boots.

Stan looked down at it falling. Then he pulled off his own shiny black shoes without untying the laces, and added them to the pile. "I think I might manage." He ran a finger down Bill's scarred cheek, before turning to Charlie on his other side. "I heard you did some spying in the war, mate. That your plan for tonight, or are you joining in?"

"It was more a sort of recruitment role…" Charlie muttered.

"Kept himself safely out of the way in Romania," Bill pushed his fingers into Stan's lank hair and pulled their mouths together.

"There were vampires!" Charlie protested. "I was recruiting in Transylvania for Merlin's sake!"

He was ignored by the two other men who were engaged in a deep and intoxicating kiss. Bill's hands dropped to Stan's shoulders and pushed back his purple uniform jacket, while Stan rubbed at Bill's thighs. Charlie thought about getting himself another drink. Then he thought again and took hold of Stan's jacket and eased it back and off, before nestling against Stan's back and dropping the garment to the floor with everything else.

Stan groaned. His other hand snaked behind him onto Charlie's thigh. He applied the same pressure and rhythm of caresses to each brother's leg, working his way gradually up to their groins. Charlie wrapped his arms round Stan's slim chest so that he could undo the buttons of the man's shirt. He pecked kisses up Stan's neck and sucked on his earlobe, while Stan stroked Charlie's growing erection through his jeans. His other hand tried to do the same for Bill.

When Stan's shirt was undone, Charlie noticed that Bill had been busy working on the fastenings of Stan's trousers. The two brothers laid the conductor out across the bed and finished undressing him. Charlie lowered his mouth to Stan's and his fingers to Stan's pale, perky nipples. Bill got to work licking and caressing Stan's cock. Charlie squeezed Stan's nipple and heard a rewarding moan. He rotated his grip and the groan was even sweeter.

"So that's what you wanted to twist, was it?" Bill asked.

"Yeah. What about you?"

Bill grasped Stan's cock in both hands, one above the other, and moved his wrists in opposite directions.

"Oh, Merlin! Yes! Again!" Stan cried out.

"Nice one," Charlie acknowledged. He got back to the job of snogging Stan.

Bill flattened his tongue and worked it over the head of Stan's cock, while he squeezed and stroked his balls. Then he opened wide and sucked in deep, relishing in the way that made Stan groan into Charlie's mouth, before pulling off his mouth with a loud pop.

"So, Stan," Bill asked, as he rolled Stan's balls in one hand, and stroked his cock with the other. "What do you want? What would you like tonight?"

Charlie moved his mouth to Stan's neck so that he could answer.

Stan replied breathlessly, "I want… I want you two."

"Good. I was kind of taking that as read at this point," Bill said.

"No. Together. I want you both naked, and both… I want to watch you two."

The two brothers both stopped what they were doing in order to jerk back in shock at the same time. They'd shared before, but they'd always been careful to give each other privacy while they were doing it. They never looked at each other's bodies; they never touched.

"Don't tell me you've never thought about it." Stan didn't specify which brother he was talking to.

They both responded with an involuntary sideways twitch of their lips, and a quick, embarrassed look away, which answered the question anyway. Stan shuffled up to sitting and then moved back on the bed until he was leaning against one of the bed posts. He stared at them, flushed, as he wanked himself, and said, in a husky voice, "Undress each other."

Bill and Charlie hesitated. They looked at each other, then quickly away. Bill watched Stan for a moment. When he looked back at Charlie, he found him crawling towards him. Bill knelt up to meet him. He took a deep breath. When Charlie knelt up too, Bill grinned, shrugged and took hold of the collar of Charlie's shirt. Stan hummed encouragement. Bill ran his fingers up and down the seams of the checked cotton collar and tilted his head. His gaze flicked up to Charlie's face. Charlie was staring at him; he didn't seem to be breathing.

Bill focussed on each button as he unfastened it. After a couple of minutes, he felt Charlie's fingers on his chest and looked down, to see that his brother's broad fingers were working at his own shirt buttons.

"You look gorgeous together," Stan whispered.

Bill opened up Charlie's shirt to run his hands over the ginger hair and freckled skin covering his brother's broad, hard chest. Charlie's hands stopped moving. Bill watched Stan's aroused expression while he lowered his head and began kissing and licking Charlie's chest.

"Fucking hell, Bill," Charlie muttered in a mutter which sounded both shocked and impressed. This had become a game of chicken. Bill knew from Charlie's voice that neither of them was going to back out now.

Bill got his teeth on Charlie's nipple. He pushed off Charlie's shirt to give Stan a better view, then sucked hard. Charlie's breathing hitched and his hand went to Bill's head. Bill hadn't even known that he'd noticed that Charlie had sensitive nipples. He had been sure of what his brother's reaction was going to be, though.

Charlie stroked Bill's sleek hair with shaking fingers. He reached the strip of leather which held Bill's pony tail and pulled at it. It didn't move. He pulled again. Stan reached forward and undid the knot. When the long, straight, dark red hair tumbled free, Charlie and Stan both ran their fingers down through its length.

Charlie returned to Bill's shirt buttons, while Bill continued to suck and lick his nipples. Stan sat back into his vantage point to watch them.

Once both brothers were topless, they hesitated again, eyeing each other's waistbands and the bulges in their trousers.

"Kiss!" Stan demanded suddenly.

Two ginger heads shot round to stare at him.

"Kiss each other," Stan said more softly.

Bill closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Before he'd completed his exhale, Charlie's hot mouth was on his. It was wet and eager, lips moving fast, and the sure invasion of his thick tongue and the taste of butter beer. Bill gripped Charlie's shoulders to steady them both, then tilted his head and responded with his own tongue. Charlie's hands grasped Bill's hair. Their bare chests rose and fell against each other with their erratic breaths. Their clothed erections found each other, ground against each other. A jolt of intense pleasure ran through Bill.

There was another hand on the small of his back, another scent, the heat of another body at his side. Bill remembered Stan. Stan's hand slipped down the back of Bill's jeans. Bill let go of his brother's shoulders in order to unbutton his own jeans with urgent, flustered fingers. When his cock sprang free, Stan took hold of it and stroked, hard, in time with the strokes on his own cock. Bill pushed his jeans to his knees, and then did the same for Charlie. In an uncoordinated dance of six hands, the Weasley brothers shed their remaining clothes.

"You're fantastic, you two," Stan said.

"Not so bad yourself," Charlie panted.

"What now?" Stan asked. "What d'you fancy? Who goes where?"

Bill was surprised to hear himself saying, in a thick, wavering voice, "I need to fuck you," to his own brother. He hadn't known he'd needed it. But once he'd said it, he knew he'd needed it for years.

Stan made a happy whimpering noise.

They both looked at Charlie. Charlie bit his lip and looked down. He sat back and stared up at their expectant faces.

"Bill," he said.

"Only if you want to," Stan said. "Right, Bill?" He ran his palm down Bill's arm. Bill said nothing.

"Look, Bill," Charlie said. "If we do that, there's no going back. There's no forgetting."

Bill knew it was true. But he didn't think their relationship was ever going to be the same anyway. It was too late for them to revert to how they had been. Maybe they'd spend the rest of their lives screwing; maybe they wouldn't be able to face each other again. He said nothing.

"It's ok," Stan said in a small voice. "You can both fuck me if you like. One after the other. Or one at each end. I don't mind what we do. Not really."

"What do you want, Charlie?" Bill asked.

The two brothers looked into each other's eyes steadily for almost a minute.

"Merlin help me!" Charlie said eventually. He looked at the bed curtains. "I want you to fuck me, Bill."

"What do you want to do, Stan?" Bill asked, without taking his eyes off his brother.

"I want to see this."

"Of course; what else?"

"Can I fuck you?"

Bill looked at Stan. "Me?"

Stan nodded.

"Before? After? At the same time?"

"Oh, yeah." Charlie leaned forward.

Stan swallowed. "At the same time," he whispered. "That's a great idea."

Charlie lay down on his back and raised his knees. He squeezed the base of his cock. Bill watched the precome beading at its head. He knelt down between Charlie's knees, then looked behind him. Stan shuffled in behind Bill. Stan ran a hand from Charlie's foot, up his muscular, ginger-haired calf, then over his knee and onto Bill's waist, then through Bill's chest hair. Slowly, Bill lowered his body until he could kiss Charlie. Stan pressed a wand into Bill's hand, then held his hand out, palm up. Bill conjured lube for both of them, before dropping the wand again.

Bill leaned back onto his knees. Charlie rocked back and gripped his own knees. Bill raised his own arse, his weight on both knees and one hand. Stan ran a slick finger down Bill's crack, Bill rubbed his own over Charlie's. They both pressed in a finger at the same time, pushed it in and out, twisted their wrists. Bill's ring of muscle eased first, while Charlie's still resisted.

"Relax," Bill told him, staring into his eyes. "Relax, Charlie. You're ok. I'm looking after you."

Charlie closed his eyes. Stan followed with a second finger into Bill and started to stroke Charlie's cock. The tight grip of Charlie's muscle on Bill's finger eased slightly, as the pressure in his own arse increased. Stan's four fingers pushed in and out of him. Stan's chin was on his shoulder and Bill heard the man's deep groan in his ear. They were both watching Charlie's tight hole and Bill's slow, gentle fingering. Charlie's eyes opened, he looked up at them both; all of a sudden, the tight grip on Bill's finger eased.

Stan had nearly a whole hand inside Bill by now, though, and his cock rubbed desperately against Bill's thigh. Bill shuddered as his prostate was stroked. He had to grit his teeth to stay patient, to wait for Charlie to be ready, too. But, hell, this was Charlie, and Bill had spent his whole life looking out for him and looking after him. What was a few minutes of hardly bearable sexual tension compared to that? This was his brother after all. Bill would have died for him, would have killed anyone else who'd hurt him, so there was no way he was going to do anything to cause him pain himself.

They could have just started: Bill and Stan. Bill was on the brink of suggesting it. Only there was no way he was going to be able to line up and ease into Charlie while Stan was pounding into him, and he certainly didn't want to try to stop once they'd started.

He realised that he had two fingers in Charlie now, and that Charlie had added one of his own. Stan had pulled himself further back, more upright, he had let go of Charlie's cock. Charlie was flushed and breathless.

"Now?" Bill asked.

"Now," Charlie grunted.

"Now," Stan whined.

Bill took hold of his cock and fitted the head against Charlie's loosened, red hole. He felt the blunt, wet end of Stan's cock at his own entrance. Stan pushed slowly in and Bill edged in at the same pace.

The fire in his arse! The heat at his cock. Bill thought he might black out.

Stan leaned forward to take Charlie's ankles one by one and rest them on Bill's shoulders. Then Stan started to thrust. Bill used the momentum, and just concentrated on his angle as he slammed into Charlie. He sank into the overwhelming rhythm.

After a couple of minutes, an angel in a trench coat appeared soundlessly on the top deck of the bus. He looked in through a gap in the bed drape and opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped and his brow furrowed in confusion. He stepped back and then silently, unnoticed by any of the bed's occupants, he vanished again.

Stan's fingers gripped Bill's hips hard. Sweat poured down his face, onto his chest, as he focussed on thrusting straight, while twisting his shoulders sideways in order to watch Bill's hand on Charlie's broad, blushing chest, and Charlie's buttock, and the sweaty, freckly side of Bill's buttock, and Charlie's red, dripping cock in Charlie's red-knuckled hand.

Charlie closed his eyes and he didn't look; he didn't think. He just experienced the sensations.

Bill looked down into his brother's face. Finally it looked as it always should have looked: relaxed, free, happy. Angelic. He sank his cock into Charlie's flesh, and the friction heat and tightness there, coupled with the electric jolts of pleasure deep within him, and the rubbing and stretching at his hole, brought him to the edge of ecstasy.

He tried to not come. He thought of all the gross and horrific corpses he'd ever had to clean away. The images floated away from him on a red haze of passion. All too soon, Stan was guiding his movements because he had no more control of his own and he'd lost the rhythm, and he was rolling and rolling and rolling through a shattering climax.

He fell forwards, as hot, thick liquid splashed his stomach and Charlie cried out wordlessly under him, then Stan's thighs were slapping erratically against him and he was grunting and then the three of them collapsed into a jumbled heap.

Bill came round lying on his back, to the sound of heavy breathing, weight on his thighs from other thighs, and birdsong somewhere beyond the depot.

"I'm starving," Charlie said.

"Mmmm," Stan agreed sleepily.

Bill became aware of the emptiness of his own stomach. A craving edged at his saliva glands. "You got any of those Muggle Instant Food places around here, Stan?"

"Sure. There's a Quick Food place two streets over. It's a bit further to the twentyfour hour one, but I reckon they'll be about to open for breakfasts anyway."

"Do they do burgers?" Bill asked. "The ones in the bread rolls with all the gloopy sauce and that bit of pickled cucumber in it?"

"Yeah," Stan replied. "And the skinny, salty chips that taste disgusting when they go cold, but brilliant when they're piping hot."

Charlie groaned. "And those drinks that are like ice cream? Milk thicks or whatever."

Stan and Bill hummed and licked their lips.

"Muggles may be daft," Stan commented, "but their Rapid Food is unequalled."

"Great," Charlie protested. "Now I'm even more hungry, but I don't have the energy to move. Plus, there's a sweaty bus conductor lying on my arm."

"Sorry about that." Stan moved.

"Sweaty but sexy," Bill mumbled.

They lay still for a few moments, all three of them thinking about moving, but none of them managing it.

Suddenly, there was a burst of silvery light. It resolved itself into a lynx patronus. Charlie swore.

Shacklebolt's voice came from the patronus: "I'm getting reports of a series of mysterious deaths in Krakow. You'll need to use your fake Interpol identity cards and interview the staff who were involved in the post mortem."

"Krakow?" Stan asked. He rolled over and sank his face into the pillow. "Don't look at me. I'm off duty."

"Burgers first?" Charlie asked Bill plaintively.

Bill nodded wearily. "Definitely."

"See you around," Charlie said to Stan as he sat up to get dressed.

Stan just grunted into the pillow, so Charlie slapped his exposed arse.

When Bill and Charlie were dressed, they loaded up with their collection of weapons. Bill dug out the fake IDs from the bottom of the bag, and tried to scrape together his few words of Polish. As he grabbed his jacket, he noticed that Charlie was watching him. Charlie looked away again quickly.

"Hope you enjoyed your journey," Stan mumbled sleepily.