Tangible Schizophrenia


Demons Epilogue: Holiday

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: NC-17. Gender-switching.
Pairing: John/Balthazar, Dean/John/Balthazar.
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: Neither the SPN characters nor the Constantine characters belong to me.
Notes: AU begins right before the end of Home. Supernatural/Constantine crossover. Loose sequel to Snap, from which you only need to know the following: 1) John and Midnite resurrected Balthazar as a human and 2) John and Balthazar have acquired the ability to change into female forms of themselves.
Summary: Dean and Sam stay a couple extra days in L. A. to heal up, and to get ready.


Dean rounded the corner, then backtracked a step. He started to throw up an arm, but realized that was a little pointless. It wasn’t like he hadn’t managed to walk in on this much multiple times over the past two days. “Jesus Christ. Can’t you two wear bells or something?”

Balthazar looked superior, which was pretty impressive considering that he was up against the wall, legs around John’s waist and skirt hiked up over his hips. His blouse was open to his waist, and he had a nice pair of…smaller than John’s, but still nicely proportioned. “We live here, Dean. If anything, you should wear the—John, damn it,” he hissed, twisting around. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and his head hit the wall. “Lower.”

“Sure, honey,” John snorted. Though for all his sarcasm, he didn’t seem all that reluctant to do whatever his hand was doing between Balthazar’s thighs. He pushed his arm down and Balthazar jerked his leg up at the same time so Dean got a flash of dark brown hair. “How’s the wrist?”

“Oh. Um. It’s good. I’m off the cast and on a wrap now.” Which Dean held up even though the other two were too busy to look at it. The bites on his other hand were almost gone as well, which meant he and Sam would be ready to go by tomorrow, probably. “Midnite knows how to doctor. But he’s still a manipulative son of a bitch and I can’t believe you won’t let me do anything to him.”

John buried his head in Balthazar’s throat, but moved rapidly downward to suck along the curve of Balthazar’s breast. His mouth dislodged the fold of blouse that’d been over Balthazar’s nipple and that popped out. It was on the small side and a kind of pinkish chocolate, like a half-melted candy. Balthazar lazily stretched up his head, hands wandering over John’s back. “I’m constantly asking myself that,” he sighed. His nails curled into the nape of John’s neck. “Irritating as you are, Johnny, you’re better at pulling off gambles than he is. He shouldn’t even bother…no, lower. Lower.”

“I’m…just…going to…um…” Dean made a weak wave towards the door. He really should be checking on Sam, see if his brother was over their morning argument. Maybe Dean had been following Sam a little too closely, but could Sam blame him for that? “Wouldn’t want to…uh…”

“Well, if you want.” Though Dean hadn’t noticed, John’s shirt must have been unbuttoned too, because he shrugged and half of it fell off his shoulder. His voice was a little muffled since his face was still shoved between Balthazar’s breasts. “C’mere a second. Want to see something?”

Balthazar went a little stiff and stared hard at the top of John’s head. As if he felt it, John slowly licked up the center of Balthazar’s chest and up the middle of Balthazar’s throat till he was nipping lightly at the underside of Balthazar’s jaw. The other—er—Balthazar relaxed.

“That’s what old perverts say to cute little kids,” Dean muttered. He couldn’t help edging forward anyway.

“I’m not old, and you’re not cute. Kid.” John’s arm flashed out and dragged Dean forward so fast that Dean lost his balance.

He smushed up against Balthazar and nearly had a heart attack when he realized the warm soft thing his hand was pushing into was Balthazar’s breasts. Then his attention almost side-tracked into slapping himself for being such an idiot, but Balthazar was…uh, okay with things. Apparently. Okay with it enough to do his damnedest to suck Dean’s tongue out of his mouth.

His knee was jammed into Dean’s stomach, and that wasn’t all that comfortable, but when Dean tried to bend it out of the way, he somehow ended up putting them all on the floor. His hand slid around Balthazar’s thigh and bumped up against damp coarse hair; his knuckle grazed something warmer and wetter lying beneath that.

John had left, so Dean’s body sort of migrated into the space that’d opened up. Now Balthazar was getting into teeth, and Dean wasn’t all that fond of that so he dragged off his mouth. Just in time to yelp, actually, because John was sucking hotly up the side of Dean’s throat. Dean pitched forward and cushioned his head in Balthazar’s breasts; John helped that along by pressing his hand down on the back of Dean’s neck.

“First point—demons in human bodies have a different heartbeat. Hear that?” John said.

Not really, because John’s other hand was having a lot of fun squeezing Dean’s ass and that was…well, on the direct side. Dean bit back another yelp and twisted his head around so he wasn’t going to suffocate. Though honestly, Balthazar had incredible breasts, so it wouldn’t have been that…he needed to stop there. He cast around for something else to concentrate on and finally ended up listening. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Cool.”

“Why, thank you,” Balthazar muttered. His head was lolling to the side like he was too disgusted with everything, but he wasn’t all that shy about grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling it down; luckily, it wasn’t Dean’s injured wrist. A second later, John had stroked his way down Dean’s shivering leg and was playing around with Dean’s fingers and Balthazar’s cunt. “Right there. Damn it, Johnny…”

“Second point—if Balthazar was still a real demon, he might have weird things down here. Tentacles, whatever.” John spoke dryly, like he’d had a lot of experience with that. He probably did, but hell if Dean was going to ask about it. “Here and sometimes the feet. Demons could cover it all up if they wanted, but they get lazy. Of course, a lot of people still manage to miss that…”

Maybe it was because they’d suddenly gotten their pants jerked down to their knees. And clearly Dean had lost track of John’s hands, because he had no idea how that happened. Couldn’t really put it together after the fact because John was sliding up against his back and the rubbing of John’s cock along Dean’s thigh and hip and buttock was a weirdly exciting sensation. The way Balthazar was writhing beneath Dean was just plain fucking good.

Though Balthazar was fighting it for some reason, pushing at Dean. Confused, Dean backed off and pressed himself right into John’s dick, which slipped between Dean’s buttocks like it was meant to be there. Dean froze up a bit.

“John, please don’t—” Balthazar said something urgent and pleading with his eyes.

After a second, John rasped a laugh and nudged at Dean, pushing him down further so Dean’s mouth landed a couple inches beneath Balthazar’s bellybutton. He could feel the first couple whorls of hair and smell a rich, salty-sweet scent that yeah, went straight to his cock and to his mouth. But at least Dean kept from drooling.

“I’m beginning to think you went along with the whole thing just to make sure I wasn’t going to fuck Dean over his car,” John snickered. His hand came around and casually grabbed Dean’s cock. He was running his fist up and down it before Dean could really think of why a protest would be necessary, and God, that felt good.

Dean nosed around at Balthazar, grinned himself at Balthazar’s startled noise, and dove right in. He might not get time for this often, but he damn well wasn’t a kid when it came to this. “Hey, if anything happens to my car, I’d be the one doing the fucking.”

“Yeah?” John lightly fingered the inside of Dean’s thigh so Dean shivered. “You know, I might not have minded having you around.”

Something about that sentence struck Dean as funny and he lifted his head to glance at John.

The other man shrugged. “You’ve still got a hell of a lot to learn, kid. I hate babysitting. And I have a one-demon-per-house rule.” He stretched over and gave Balthazar a surprisingly soft kiss; Balthazar was moaning by the time John was done. “Leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Dean poked his head down and wriggled around his tongue till he found the spot that made Balthazar buck up and smack his head against the wall. Then he shoved back at John. “And stop calling me kid.”

John paused, hand on Dean’s ass. Then he curved his thumb down and in so Dean nearly bit Balthazar when he jumped. “You sure?”

“Ye-ah. What the hell, it’s not like it could be weirder than anything else that’s happened to me in Los Aaaan—holy shit!” Dean jerked forward again. His nose smushed, then suddenly straightened as the tip poked into a depression. Which flexed hard around his nose-tip as Balthazar hissed and wriggled.

It did hurt, kind of. The pain was an edge around the stronger feeling, which was just a weird kind of pressure slowly inching its way into Dean. Then the pressure crawled over something and Dean desperately jerked his head around to suck at the slight rise of flesh he’d been poking at earlier. Balthazar arched and clawed around till he found Dean’s head. Then his fingers sank into Dean’s scalp.

“Don’t suffocate him,” John lazily said. “What’s with the nerves? You’ve been like this ever since—”

“Thanks to your stupid plan, I had doctors shoving their hands and instruments up me for twenty minutes! I’m sore, you miserable—” Balthazar inhaled sharply and shoved down onto Dean’s face.

John gave Dean a tweak that made Dean’s muscles clench in discomfort and his knees melt. Bizarre feeling. “Good timing.”

Dean muffled a ‘you’re welcome,’ which pushed Balthazar further along the road to silence.

The pressure, which had been gradually lightening as Dean got used to it, suddenly disappeared. He actually missed it, the change was so fast. But then John was gripping his hips and moving them purposefully, and Dean had a whole new reason to be distracting himself with Balthazar’s cunt.

“Point three,” John said. “Sometimes demons lose control of their appearance right about here. Same goes for angels. You might want to let Sam know.”

Why the hell John would have to bring up Sam now…was totally irrelevant. Damn. This really wasn’t a bad way to waste time. And Dean probably needed to breathe, except John was moving and okay, okay, bad idea to squeeze against whatever rhythm John was using, but really good one to go with John. Good and fast and rough-edged, just in case Dean had forgotten that settling down was a bad idea. It was good as long as it was going, and not lingering around. Good in motion—the goodness was the motion, a visceral uprising and then a sudden hard slap. Got the blood going, but didn’t hurt anything permanently.

Dean had faded out for the last couple moments, and when he came back in, he was dimly aware of John pushing his head aside to deal with Balthazar. A couple seconds and Balthazar was crying out pretty impressively; his knees knocked against Dean, but Dean was so limp that it didn’t even hurt.

“Point four: you do that every time you get fucked and any demon within fifty miles is going to know where you are.” John moved into Dean’s field of vision. He looked different—right, he’d gone to girl somewhere along the line. His head was cocked to some sound in the background, something like…

“Is that the plumbing?” Balthazar covered his face with his hand. “Dean, there is such a thing as taking the metaphor too far.”

Dean rubbed at his sticky, burning cheeks. “Sorry. I’ll…um…wait a second. I think I can do something about that.”

John snorted and got himself a cigarette from somewhere, sitting cross-legged. After a couple seconds, he tugged Balthazar into his lap. His breasts were about two inches from Balthazar’s red mouth. “Nah, just come here. Can you pin down individual water mains yet? Because the one Midnite’s on runs pretty close to here…”

And they were both girls now. This was so, so bizarre…and probably as good as it was going to get, because damn, they looked really good as girls. Dean shrugged and came over.

* * *

Sam smelled Dean coming before he even heard him. He stayed where he was, lying on his back on John’s roof.

“Hey.” Dean stopped next to Sam’s right wing and sat down. Awkwardly. He hissed a couple times and Sam had a hard time not smiling. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well, I have wings, I almost killed you and I let Jessica’s killer go.” Suddenly it was very easy to just stare at the sky and think about how incredibly close it’d been. Which had been Sam’s fault. He’d wanted to get everything avenged and done and finally settled so badly that he’d just…not listened. “I don’t know how this adds up.”

Something tickled through the long feathers on Sam’s wing. It stopped when Sam fluttered the feathers, but started up again as soon as Sam laid back down. “I know the feeling,” Dean muttered, flicking one stiff primary. “Least we’re never going to die of thirst.”

“Yeah, about that. When did the whole water-fountain thing happen?” Sam pushed himself up on his elbows, then carefully lifted his wing over Dean so he could lie on his stomach. He could’ve just folded it in, but the sun soaking into the feathers felt really good.

Anyway, putting away the wings would’ve just denied the obvious, and that was what had gotten Sam into trouble before. This wasn’t going to be a quick hunting trip, and he wasn’t going to be home within the week. This was going to be long and drawn-out and ugly.

Fine. He could live with that if he had to.

“Well, I jumped in the river and got that stupid page. Half-drowned myself in the process, but I think it started from there.” They were sitting by the air-conditioning shed, and Dean was next to a little puddle of condensate that’d formed beneath one of the vents. He dipped his finger into it, then drew up a long thread of water in defiance of gravity. His eyes were sparkling like a twelve-year-old’s, though he was trying to stay cool. “It’s not so bad.”

“What about the—you know, the guys thing?” Sam asked. He arched an eyebrow at Dean’s blank expression.

After a second, Dean got what Sam meant and turned a dull red. He ducked his head and coughed a couple times. “It’s…it’s not bad. You know they both can turn into girls, right?”

“Balthazar too?” No wonder it’d been so damn noisy downstairs. “But the sixty-four-million-dollar-question is: what were they about twenty minutes ago?”

Dean cleared his throat some more and made vague waving motions. He looked defensive. “They…sort of…changed a lot. I lost track. What? We’re allowed to have fun.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want to call it. I’m really proud of you, Dean. You’re adjusting really well to the new changes in your life.” Sam meant it to be teasing, but somehow the end turned out a little more bitter.

“Hey,” Dean said. He reached out and ruffled Sam’s hair. “You were possessed. Now, later I’m going to kick your ass for getting into that position, but honestly, what you did while Moloch was in you wasn’t really your fault.”

“But it is. It’s me, Dean. Me that he picked to mess with, me that he wants. There’s something in me that makes it easy for him.” Sam sucked in his breath a little; he hadn’t intended to get so worked up here. He breathed out, then tried to smile reassuringly up at Dean. “Well, whatever it is, he’s not getting another chance at it. I’m making sure of that.”

His words sat heavily in the air for nearly a minute. Then Dean nodded, face dead serious. He started to say something, then closed his mouth. After a moment, he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“Hit the road tomorrow morning,” Dean said after a while. “Dad’s still out there, and I think we’ve already spent enough time here. This is Moloch’s territory anyway; we’d be better off getting him into some place we know better.”

“Yeah.” Sam paused, then had to ask. “Sure you aren’t going to miss your boyfriend-girlfriends?”

The wings were useful for one thing: getting away from Dean before he could beat on Sam.