Title: Candle In The Window
Chap 3: Nowhere left to go
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, more's the pity. Only get pleasure, no money.
Welcome to the world thru my eyes.
A/N: The only reason you're getting this chapter is because Gaelic is sitting in my office correcting it as I type. Well, my suggestion about adding a sister went over like a lead balloon so I guess I'll put that on the back burner. And I'm off the meds now, ta to everyone who wished me to get better and ta to the ones who hoped I'd stay on the meds for the sake of the story. I'm back on my usual stuff so hopefully nothing wil be lost as a result. I hope this meets with your sick and twisted desires, and I do love you you all for those traits.
Ta so much for the wonderful reviews, they mean so much and a big wave to the lurkers cause I know your out there. I'll try to get the next chapter up a little sooner and I must tell you, I AM adding a character.
But trust me, she won't be a sister type at all...
"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, rushing the few steps back to where Dean lay as Archie fumbled to get off him. Sam knelt and grabbed Dean's shoulders. Dean's face was white, his eyes rolling away from the harsh overhead lights to Sam.
"Dean? Take it easy…give yourself a second." Sam looked up at Archie and the girl, demanding, "What happened?"
Archie backed up, hands out. "No one touched him; he just went over all of the sudden like a sack of manure." He glanced nervously at the exit.
Dean moved sluggishly, one arm lifting from the floor, his eyelids fluttering, trying to sit up. He made a noise between a groan and a growl, staring up at Sam in confusion.
"What the hell…" He asked faintly.
"You passed out…or something," Sam replied, eyeing him closely, getting a better grip under Dean's arm. "Can you get up?"
Dean blinked, clearing his throat, "Yeah…yeah." He shook his head. "Damn…" He allowed Sam to assist him to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he straightened.
"Here," Sam said, moving Dean back to the booth closest to them and easing him down. "Put your head down," he said, putting pressure on the back of Dean's neck.
Dean did as he was told because he was still too light-headed to do otherwise. He dropped his head down and cupped his hands over the back of his neck, breathing deeply.
He felt like he'd run a marathon, shaky and out of control. Gradually, the dizziness receded but the heaviness in his limbs remained.
After a few minutes he lifted his head and was not happy to find himself the center of attention, even if it was only Sam, a high school girl, and Walter Brennan's look-alike peering at him. No, he saw, even the comic book guy was watching him now.
Great.
He started to push himself to his feet but Sam stopped him with almost no effort.
"Wait, hang on a sec. You feelin' better?"
Dean rolled his shoulder, twisting to shake Sam's hand off and stood, his body quivering. Enough that Sam could see it, but not so much that anyone else would have noticed.
"I'm fine," Dean said, embarrassed, his gaze shifting erratically from one person to another. "I just got dizzy…it's too warm in here." He blinked and shook his head again, rubbing his hand over the bites on his other arm, grimacing as a sharp pain shot through it. "I'm fine now," he repeated sullenly.
Sam could tell how uncomfortable Dean was. This was not the kind of attention he liked drawing to himself; Sam took his arm.
"C'mon, go splash some water on your face, it'll wake you up," he urged, tugging slightly on Dean's arm.
"No, let's just get outta here—"
Dean glared at him until Sam cut his eyes to the side. A very clear signal he wanted to talk to Dean in private.
Dean stopped at the look on Sam's face. "Okay…" he relented, "maybe you're right." He went so far as to allow Sam to keep a hand on his elbow as they moved back toward the restrooms, his small audience watching every step of the way.
Once inside Sam closed the door and leaned against it, watching as Dean shuffled to the sink and jerked the cold water on, leaning over to cup water over his face, resting his weight on his elbows, eyes closed, letting the water drip off of his chin. God, just the effort to hold himself upright was almost too much; it felt like every muscle in his body was quaking with exhaustion.
"You okay?" Sam asked hesitantly. "You're shaking like a leaf."
Dean sighed, wearily shut off the water and turned to face Sam, shrugging, staring at the dirty concrete floor.
"Dean, how do you feel?" Sam asked again, looking intently at Dean. He pulled his cell phone out, eyes never leaving Dean and began pressing buttons. As Dean looked up and opened his mouth, Sam cut him off with a sharp warning.
"And don't lie to me."
Dean rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling some paper towels from the dispenser. He pressed them against his wet skin, then wadded the towels up and threw them in the trash.
"I'm fine, Sam!" he insisted. "It was just a dizzy spell. I'm tired-"
"I said don't lie to me," Sam repeated tightly.
Dean groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes again. "What the hell is with you?"
"Bobby called to ask about the hunt." Sam moved about the small room trying to recapture the fleeting signal, re-dialing after each failed try. "He said he found out some new information. I mentioned you got bit and he upset and was trying to tell me something."
Dean straightened at that, frowning, his hand closing over the bites on his other arm. "What did he say?" he asked.
"We got cut---Bobby!" Sam straightened as the connection finally went through.
Sam listened intently, waving Dean off as he started to speak. "Yeah…yeah, Bobby, he is…no, he passed out...just a few minutes…What? No." A prolonged silence as Sam listened, his eyes flicking to Dean and away repeatedly. "Are you sure? How the hell am I supposed to…" More silence. "No, no…I understand. God, Bobby how are you gonna get here? Everything is flooding." Dean watched as Sam twisted to hear better, licking his lips nervously. "Okay…I will. I'll figure out something…" Sam snatched the phone away from his ear and swore at it as the connection broke again.
"Dammit!" He swung wide eyes at Dean, who was leaning against the sinks, good arm still cradling the bad one. His eyes were hooded as he watched Sam's phone conversation.
"What?" he finally demanded. "What did he say, Sam?" he snapped when Sam didn't respond.
"We have to go," Sam replied, pocketing the phone. "That thing's bite…" he began reluctantly.
Dean pushed away from the sink. "What about it?" When Sam just glanced at him without answering, Dean snapped, "Sam, for God's sake!"
Sam sighed. "That bite was toxic, Dean. Bobby said it transmits some kind of toxin that screws with the signals your brain sends to your nerves."
Sam's mind was racing with everything Bobby had managed to tell him before contact had been lost again.
Dean cocked his head, "You mean it poisoned me?" he asked in disbelief. He stared at his injured arm. "It wasn't enough that the damned thing almost chewed my arm off? It's gotta poison me too? Why the hell didn't he say that was possible before?"
"He didn't know until it was too late, the hunt was over—"
"Great!" Dean barked. "Now what?" A horrible look crossed his face and his eyes became frantic. "Shit, I'm not gonna turn into one of those things am I?" His hand shot to his throat. A werewolf or vampire he could maybe deal with, but to become a floating, gibbering, disembodied head…
"No! No, Dean, calm down!" Sam grabbed Dean's arm. "It doesn't work like that. But it's making you sick, and we need to get to Bobby for help or it's --" He pulled Dean toward the door once again. "We have to go. I'll tell you the rest in the car."
"No!" Dean snapped, jerking away even though the sudden movement hurt his arm. "What did he say?"
Sam made an impatient noise. "Do you really want to know? It starts with blackouts, like your little episode out there, increasing lethargy, confusion, hallucinations, pain, nausea, the whole nine yards. All you're gonna want to do is sleep," he continued.
"So what's so bad about that? I get that with the flu!"
Sam stared at him, unsure if Dean was trying to be funny or not.
Sam reached out to Dean and caught the front of his shirt, tugging gently. "You don't get it, Dean," he said, holding on as Dean tried to pull away. "It'll kill you if we don't get help, alright! Your brain's gonna lose the ability to tell your body what to do to keep your heart beating and your lungs moving. Your body is gonna slow down to the point you just go to sleep and you don't wake up again. It's like animals that inject poison in their prey and then follow along until the victim becomes paralyzed or dies."
Dean looked at him for a long moment. "So what are we supposed to do about it?" he demanded back into Sam's face, pushing his hand off.
"We're gonna get in the car and get the hell outta here, that's what. We don't have a lot of time-"
"How much time?" Dean demanded.
"Bobby's gonna meet us. He says he knows how to counteract it but we have to leave!"
"How much, Sam?"
Sam's hesitated, "Depends on how much is in your system and your metabolism—"
"Sam, Goddammit—"
Eyes on the floor, "A few days…maybe." Sam replied. "The poison spreads faster when your body's at rest."
"Whadaya mean?" Dean frowned.
"You have to stay awake, Dean. You can't go to sleep. Every time you sleep or…or blackout the poison is gonna move through you that much faster. That's the problem, the stuffs gonna make you want to sleep, we have to stop it. It's the only thing that's gonna buy us time. The longer you can stay awake the slower the poison will move through your system." Sam jaw muscles bunched as he ground his teeth.
Somehow, finding out he couldn't just sleep until Bobby showed up was more upsetting to Dean than the news he'd been poisoned. Every muscle and joint in his body was aching for the release of sleep. "Sam…I'm ready to fall on my face now," Dean said with uncharacteristic candor.
Sam's face softened, "All the more reason to get outta here, Bobby's on his way, it'll be okay. It's just for a while. We'll get some stuff to help us both stay awake." He tugged on Dean's sleeve. "Can we please just go now!"
"The rust bucket we're driving won't float, Sam. How the hell are we supposed to leave? All the roads are under water—"
"Not all of them," Sam ground out, turning to bodily haul Dean out the door and back into the diner where their audience still waited, snapping upright at the brother's reappearance.
"Give me the directions for that shortcut!" Sam snapped at Archie who nodded wildly and scrabbled for something to write on.
Dean stood there, dazedly, watching as Sam ordered two large coffees to go and grabbed an assortment of no-doze type products from a rack by the register, adding two six packs of energy drinks to the pile.
Dean sank back down on a stool, wishing things would slow down a little...
"Here," Sam said, startling him, putting a cup of coffee by Dean.
Paying quickly, Sam ran through Archie's scribbled directions, asked a few terse questions, nodded, and was pushing Dean out the door, back into the downpour.
Dean downed the cup of coffee quickly mainly because it warmed him, tossing back two of the caffeine pills. "You know these things are addictive?" he commented lightly, noting how tightly Sam gripped the wheel, squinting through the driving rain, as they headed for Archie's shortcut.
Sam glanced at him and snorted. "I think that's the least of our problems right now."
"So Bobby's gonna meet us in Prescott?" Dean asked after a short silence.
Sam glanced over at him, "In Preston," he corrected quietly. "Yeah, as quick as he can get there."
Dean nodded, "Preston, right." He took another sip of coffee and returned his gaze to the streaming window.
Sam managed to spot the sign for the turn off Archie had mentioned and guided the old car onto the broken pavement of the old road.
It was narrow and cracked and, despite Archie's comments, was damned near running in water as deep as everywhere else. Sam had to fight the wheel to keep the car from being dragged over the edge as the puddles of water from the overflowing ditches sucked at the vehicle.
The slightest increase in speed made the vehicle feel like was about to skid around uncontrollably, forcing Sam to work the brakes of the old Capris continuously.
After half an hour of this, Dean groaned suddenly, shifting in the seat. "Stop making the car sway, man. It's makin' me sick!" He sat up more, shooting Sam a dirty look.
"It's not me!" Sam protested. "The puddles at the side are pulling the car! I can't help it if the suspension on this crate is shot!" Sam's nerves were on edge as it was and sick or not, he wasn't in the mood for Dean's complaints about his driving.
"Then stay outta the puddles!" Dean griped.
"The whole goddamned road is a puddle, Dean!" Sam snapped. "SHIT!!!!"
He stood on the brakes, yanking the wheel to the right as the edge of the road suddenly crumbled away under the onslaught of water pouring over it.
Dean was thrown into the dash, swearing, as the big vehicle slewed around, spinning three times before it went into the ditch nose first, horn blaring as Sam's head smashed into the wheel.
End Notes: This is the part where I give an evil laugh...I could pretend like I feel bad about the end but if you don't know me better than that by now...
