Devil in Disguise Part 2
Hiya everyone and welcome back to CONSTANINE! This is part 2 of my D.I.D book! So, this is a recovery chapter and I think that's it for this story. I knooooow. I need to have a longer story. I will do that! Been thinking… more Doctor Who? Supernatural? Sherlock? Lab Rats? I don't know! Anyway, hope ya'll are enjoying this story and let's finish up Devil in Disguise! I own nothing.
When John disappeared up the staircase, it was only several hours later that Chas and Zed thought something might be wrong. Without a word, Chas walked up the stairs. An ache grew in the pit of his gut as the silence of the hallway greeted him. He walked slowly, floorboards creaking under his weight. He could hear his breath as he made his way towards the door to John's room.
"John?" he called out once, knocking on the door. No answer. Chas groped the rusty handle and turned it, the bolt sliding out of the door frame. He pushed lightly on the door and it creaked with the slow movement. He peered into the dark room, a single lamp lighting the room. John was laid out on his bed, entangled in sheets. His shirt had been tossed haphazardly onto a chair next to the bed and it seemed that he came in and just lay down. He probably didn't even take off his shoes. Chas caught sight of something on the floor. A single pair of leather-man shoes. Yes, he took off his shoes. Chas crept in to see if John was even breathing. A slight groan that came signaled he was alive but not so well. It also signaled the pain and the vulnerability that was supposed to stay hidden behind the door.
Chas stood by the bedside, checking over John to look for anything else wrong. The sheets came up to right above John's waist, and the bandages peeked out from under the covers. Sweat glistened on the exposed skin from pain and stressful nightmares. Chas sighed. Wake or sleep, drunk or sober, the nightmares always plagued John. Chas silently left the bedroom and quickly went downstairs to grab some water and some pain meds he had found. He passed Zed without a word and slipped upstairs again into John's room. He set the pills and the glass of water on the nightstand then quietly left.
Over the past couple hours; Zed was trying to deal with her emotions. She had no intention to hurt John or offend him and yet his been completely set off. John disappears up the stairs with a few calm yet painful words and no apology or consideration of even hearing hears. She set her empty glass down on the coffee table. She'll just have to corner him and make it quick knowing how John was like a cat in a bath when it came to deep talks.
She sighed. She had already forgiven herself of the matter, but would he forgive her?
John woke with a jolt and pain from the most recent nightmare. His eyes finally adjusted to seeing what was in the room. He rubbed his face and pulled the covers off, more gently as his side ached from discomfort. He caught sight of the water and pills on the side table and eyed them carefully. Knowing he was back in the millhouse and if he on drug overdose, someone would figure it out soon enough so he took out two and drained the glass of water.
He didn't bother with his shoes but put his shirt back on and made his way out the door. Sore, tired and achy was what he felt but he a need for a drink overpowered them all and motivated his steps towards the staircase. He came down the steps, gripped the railing and leaning on it more than he wanted but anything to get down those bloody steps. Not even a sound could be heard from his bare feet as they touched the cool metal. Only the slight sound of fabric rubbed against iron indicated he was coming down the stairs. That and the occasional hiss of pain. He got down the stairs and ignored the movement of curly hair looking in his directions. He sat down at the kitchen table head in his hands.
"Zed, what happened to the bloody alcohol?" he called out, voice slightly muffled in his arms.
"The drinks you aren't going to have until you're off pain meds?" she asked innocently. John groaned through irritation and pain. He looked up at her and saw her still sitting on the couch reading a book. He sighed and resolved to grab himself some bland, disgusting water. After grabbing a glass, he gingerly sat down in a comfy chair by the crackling fire. He stared at it for a while, thinking about his dream. "Lost your shoes?" Zed asked casually. John didn't look away from the fire but smirked.
"In the sheets," he commented before taking a sip of the bland drink. There was a silence as there was a one sided tension. Zed became more uncomfortable sitting there with her book half open in her lap. She picked up her book hoping to get back into it. John's silence proved his anxiety too. He cleared his throat and stood slowly, setting down his barely touched glass. "Goin' out for a smoke," he muttered, heading for the stairs when Zed suddenly stood.
"John, I'm sorry," she said. Holding her fingers together in apprehension. John looked at her with that glint in his eyes, the very small upturn of the corner of his mouth barely even a smirk. It was the observing-while-contemplating-and-secretly-building-my-walls face. Zed was fine with that, but she wanted to know if she was forgiven or not.
"It's a'right," he said matter-o-factly, continuing for the stairs, "Just don't do it again, luv." Something in his voice told her he was okay and to move on and drop it because there really was no fuss over the situation. Zed smiled her small smile and sat down again to enjoy a drink and her book. John peered over the railing just a little bit, looking down on her from above. "Dear, where's Chas?" Zed looked up.
"He went home an hour ago," she said. "Geraldine was becoming a fuss. He was the one who ordered no drinks with your meds." John nodded with a slight grumble and went to his room to put on his shoes and his jacket. He came out five minutes later, patting the coat down and searching his pockets. He came downstairs again despite his exhaustion and continued his search in the laundry.
"Luv…" he trailed as he went through a pair of pants, "What happened to my cigs?" Zed watched him devily innocently as he rummaged around.
"Oh," she said, taking a sip of her drink, "Forgot to mention that Chas also said, and I quote, 'Good luck finding your mini death sentences until tomorrow'." John stared for a minute.
"He bloody didn't."
"I guess he did." John searched a bit more. An idea struck him. He went to the bookshelves and pulled out some books then a small box. A small smirk on his face, showing off his pride.
"Well, it's not like he would know where ALL my… BLOODY HELL HE DID!" John dashed back to his coat and pulled out his cell. He continued to search through things as the phone dialed. "HE TOOK MY BLOODY LIGHTER!" he half shrieked as Chas answered. Zed was pretending to still be interested in her book. "CHAS!"
After the whole conversation with Chas, John retreated to his bedroom again. Even Zed's suggestion of the meditative garden that she liked to retreat to didn't appeal to him. But then again, that was typical. After another long silence, Zed resolved to check on him, because it wasn't this long that the demonologist was this quiet. She crept upstairs and peered through the door. John was asleep again, laid across his bed on top of the sheets, shoes still on and the only thing that managed to be discarded was the shirt. Zed closed the door again and went downstairs to start a new book.
When Chas showed up the next day, John was up and demanding for the rolls of tobacco. You couldn't tell that anything bad had happened to him unless if he bent over for something. It was obvious he was hiding how he felt, no one gets shot then gets over it, but John was persistent. Anything for a drink and a smoke at that point.
He slept a lot, despite the nightmares. He would fall asleep anywhere; in the middle of reading a mythology book, sitting by the fire (he wouldn't even need a drink); most of the time when he'd sit down he was down and out in the next five minutes. But then he'd always wake up from a nightmare. Sometimes it was a quiet little snap of the eyes with a short gasp and sometimes, he would jump, sweating and catching the shout that would try to escape his lips. Zed witnessed them all.
About a week and a half after Mexico, Zed caught John asleep over studying the map. A small glass of alcohol sat dry by his outstretched hand. His head lay on top of the outstretched arm, and the other one still held the magnifying glass in a loose hold. He was very quiet, and very still which was a rare sight, even in his sleep for all he ever had was nightmares. Zed brushed a longer strand of his dirty blond hair out of his eyes then laid a throw of his shoulders. She pulled the magnifying glass out of his hand and set it aside. She gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head before turning off the lamp and retreating to her bedroom for the night.
John woke the next day, hunched over the table. A blanket fell off his shoulders as he stretched to rid of a crick in his neck. He looked about him, gazing at the blanket on the floor. He inadvertedly scratched the top of his head for a moment (unaware that that was where Zed kissed him last night), and proceeded to his bedroom to freshen up and get ready for the day.
Gazing at the bullet wound that was starting to scar, John thought about the last couple weeks. Demons, creatures, nuns, and guns, and here he was, still alive, even though he was damned. He let his shirt fall, covering up the wound. He had a thought, and it was so devastating to his mind. He had to get rid of it. He had to let it out. He didn't even hear himself say it as the blood rushed to his ears in panic and adrenaline.
"I don't want to die."
_
The End
So! That's that for this story! I hope ya'll enjoyed this! Should I write more? What's your take on this story and my writings in the fandom. I completely forgot Chas's daughter's name, but when I remember it, I'll fix it. Till next time!
thegirlwhoneverforgot