TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: suicidal thoughts & attempt
The End Of Days
Chapter 3 ~ Blind
THEN:
In the same moment he took a giant leap, taking the hooker down with him and covered the man's body with his own, as he buried his face in the floppy mop of hair.
A glairy light flooded the room the very next moment. Agonized hisses and high-pitched cries echoed through the walls and out into the night, letting the guy in the office look up frightened.
NOW:
As the cries died in the definite darkness of the room, and the scent of dead candlewicks filled the air, Dean Winchester rose his head slowly and blinked his eyes open. The hookers head cupped in one of his hands, and the other one resting on the man's side beneath him.
It took the hunter a few moments to regain his senses and another couple of moments to realize that the daevas were dead (hopefully). Or at least gone for a while.
„Damn it.", he cursed with a grunt, as a slight throbbing pain in his head and aching ribs made themself noticeable. He groaned as he straightened himself up some more, trying to figure out where in the room they were and in what direction the bed was.
He needed to find the flashlight and check on Morgan. The wounds had looked anything but good. Maybe they'd needed a doctor – or something close to a doctor. He traced his hand down over the man's head to find his neck, where he rested his middle and index-finger over the pulsating artery under his skin.
The man's pulse was fast and not easy to feel.
„Morgan.", Dean choked out and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he rose and staggered sidewards. „Oh shit ..." Yes, that was definitely a concussion. Dean swayed a little and opened his eyes again. He needed the damn flashlight like yesterday.
So he tentatively moved his legs to his right where he suspected the bed to be. „Jackpot.", he muttered and started to feel along the edge until he had his hands in the middle of the scattered contents of his duffel. When he finally found his flashlight he switched it on, rushing back to the hooker's side and squat down.
„Hey. - Morgan.", he muttered, laying his hand on the man's bicep. „C'mmon man." Dean turned him on his back, feeling once again for the man's pulse, while the beam of his flashlight wandered towards the blood soaked fabric on the hooker's shoulder and chest.
„No you won't.", Dean let out a range of curses. „I need you a little bit longer than this ..." He then ripped the fabric apart and cursed again at the sight of the deep slashes in the man's shoulder and chest. Indeed he did need the man longer. - He needed to know more about his past – there might be a lead or connection to the other victims. Something that could save others from the same fate.
„Fuck it.", he muttered and checked the man's pockets for a wallet. If he couldn't wake him, and if they had enough money (if he counted his own and the hooker's together), he would need to get him into a hospital …
It wasn't like Dean wouldn't be able to stitch him up himself. Only thing that worried him was, that the guy'd need to be stocked up on fluids due to the rising blood-loss. And that fast.
That was something he couldn't do here – besides: he didn't carry the needed medical supplies around.
Further: The hooker would need antibiotics and painkillers, because Dean would surely SO NOT share his own stock with a guy he didn't even know. Not with a man like him. Wouldn't it have been for the damn fact that he needed him some time longer, he would've put a bullet through his skull to release him right there.
So hospital it was (if they could afford it).
A little bit surprised about finding Morgan's wallet in the back of his jeans, he pulled it out and shone in it with his flashlight. He was rather surprised that the man carried a whole lot of cash with were silver-leaves and gold-leaves, carefully covered in transparent foil, held together with a paperclip inside. He also had some silver- and brass coins.
Many gunsmiths bought that stuff to mix it under iron-rounds these days. Sadly it didn't help much, since shapeshifters and werewolves didn't drop dead due it. They got poisoned and if they didn't remove the bullet they'd die. Though it could slow them down immensely ...
It'd definitely reach for the standard-treatment and some antibiotics and painkillers – maybe they even could keep him in for a night or two for that … But Dean would see what they were charging at the hospital and would decide then what to do further.
It had been torture to get mister gigantor from the floor of the motel-room into the passenger's seat of his baby. Though he seemed to be not as heavy as Dean had figured he would be.
Finally on their way, Dean kept a close eye every now and then at the man beside him. Morgan was unconscious. Either from blood loss or the goose-egg on the back of his head. They NEEDED a real doctor. Dean didn't want to lose his only lead. He couldn't afford to lose the only surviving victim he could ask questions about the case that might could save a lot of others …
It was just about ten minutes later, when they arrived the nearly empty parking lot in front of the hospital. - The building was guarded like Fort Knox in his old days. Guards and volunteers to hold the only live-saving source, virus-free, within the next two hundred (or more) miles.
Dean jumped out of the car and jogged around, where he opened the passenger's seat. He then pulled the tall guy out of the car and shouldered him in a firemen's carry before they were able to make their way towards the main-entrance.
Two of the guards went for them, their weapons aimed. „What do you have there, buddy?"
Dean stopped – panting. „Demon-attack." He tried desperately to catch his breath. „Winchester – I'm a hunter." He sucked in a deeper one so he could get out the rest of what he wanted to say. „I left my patch in the car ..."
One of the men nodded and both let their weapons down. One of them then hurried to the hunter's side and helped him with the unconscious man.
Finally reaching the hall, they laid the man on one of the empty gurneys and wheeled him into the emergency area where just one single nurse (in civilian outfit) sat behind the counter in the barely illuminated, empty hall. Her attention instantly snapped towards the arriving men.
After the guard gave her a short it's-okay-nod, the nurse jumped up from her seat and called for a doctor with an old radio-device.
Dean panted, bracing himself against the gurney, as he took in the pale man's face. „He got clawed up and hit his head pretty bad.", he explained to the nurse that was about to take the hooker's vitals.
A sleepy looking female doctor in scrubs turned up short later, jogging towards them.
„I'm sorry sir … But before we start ...", she said hesitantly as she looked at the wounded man and back up at Dean, her hand slowly findings it's way under her sweater-vest, where she carried a holster.
„Silver- and Gold-leaves.", he said before the woman was able to continue, or even think that he attempted to rob them. „Silver- and brass coins."
She gave him a short nod and went to the front end of the gurney, letting one of her hands rest on the gun. „Lets get him into examination room two."
Dean jogged after them in the corridor, when the doc and the nurse took a rough turn into room two. Years ago Dean wouldn't have been allowed to follow. But times had changed. They were different. Now relatives often went with them into the examination rooms and helped. So would Dean if he'd be able to save this life. If he would be able to get more answers and hints about the demons.
Actually he didn't feel very concerned about the man himself. It was more about the fact that if he died, he would lose yet another victim. A fact that scared the Winchester a bit, since he had always cared about others before caring about himself.
Now things were reversed. He didn't just kill monsters anymore. He also killed humans when he had to.
The doc and the nurse started to work on the hooker immediately, while Dean stood a couple of feet away, watching them closely.
First they got the man out of his blood-soaked jacket and shirt, then they cleaned him up carefully. The doctor ordered the nurse to get two bags with saline, medications and the big aid-kit. When the wound was disinfected they started an I.V. and stitched him up nicely.
„Is he gonna make it?", Dean asked casually.
The female doctor rose an eyebrow at the man and blew out a deep sigh. „Blood-loss is for sure one of his bigger problems. Besides the risk of an infection of course.", she answered then. The dark-haired doc bit her lower lip and felt for the goose bump on the hooker's head carefully. „Our CT isn't running – needs too much power. I could do an x-ray though ..."
She glanced warily at the hunter, who eyed her closely. „How much?" Dean didn't exactly know why the hell he even asked. He knew they wouldn't be able to afford it.
„I'd have to charge hundred-fifty-two for an x-ray ...", she explained shyly. Her gaze dropping to the floor. „I'm sorry, mister." She sniffed and pulled off her gloves. Then she rubbed over her nose. „He sure has a concussion, but I can't tell if there are any other internal injuries … no x-ray would show them either ..."
Dean gave her a short nod. „You said he's suffering from blood-loss?"
She nodded. „Yes. - But I think that we'll be able to keep his fluids stable with the saline-drips. Besides we don't know his blood-type ..." She took a deep inhale and blew it out again before she continued. „BUT. I can keep him here until tomorrow night. He'll get his three meals streight – if he'll be conscious until then. AND I can have a close eye on him."
Dean nodded pensively again. This wasn't what he had wanted to hear … Nor what he hoped for.
„For now we'll take his vitals every half an hour, check on his temperature and we'll get the first two shots of antibiotics and painkillers into him through the I.V.", she explained further. „Is he a family member?"
Dean huffed and shook his head, slightly amused. „He's a witness. - The only one I can ask about the things I need to know ..."
The doctor nodded again. „Sarah's our night-shift. - So … if something happens or if he wakes up, you call for her and she'll call for me."
Dean gave her another nod and a small smile. „Thanks."
It was a pity that nowadays they weren't even able to check over injured people like they were used to years ago. The doctors (if there even was one in the hospitals) couldn't do any more than guess when it was about internal bleedings. When people had enough money they would also cut into them and try to fix things as good as possible if they had a suspicion.
So yes. If you were badly injured you were damned to die. No ambulances that'd pick you up. Doctors and nurses that'd just touch you if you had enough money (or whatever they charged nowadays) with you … This world was a mess. Sometimes Dean wondered, when they would stop charging money at all and would start to trade against food and other things …
Somehow humanity was holding onto as much of the civilisation as they had known from older days. - Outside the towns, people lived mostly autharkic and traded things with others to get what they didn't have. So did Castiel. He changed fruits and vegetables from his green house (wich he had discovered short after they had moved into the bunker), for flour and eggs from a guy not too far away from their lair. The guy's name was Miller. Jordan Miller. He lived at the farm with his family. A wife and four kids … the fifth on its way …
It wouldn't last long until the people in the cities would be about to starve and would have to think completely different.
Anyways. Nothing of that was the Winchester's problem. He had Castiel, Kevin and the Bunker. He had Bobby in Sioux Falls. They had a full storage with tins and cans. Hell, they had a whole lot of cheese in cans too and dried meat in bags. They had Cas's green house, stuffed full with plants and marijuana.
What'd Dean give for fifteen minutes with a bacon-cheese-burger … and pie. Holy hell … cherry-pie or apple-pie … anything that was named pie.
With a deep sigh he slumped down in the chair beside Sam's bed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.
It didn't last long until the hooker regained conciousness and was greeted with pain … and more pain … and darkness.
Complete darkness …
A soft moan tore Dean from his much-needed sleep. His eyes snapped open in an instant and he sat up in the chair, his eyes darting at the man on the hospital-bed. As he moved a little bit too fast, the ribs of his left side sent a stabbing wave of pain through his torso that made him wince.
„Morgan?", he asked silently as if he could wake up someone else around.
The man on the bed stirred and lines of pain settled over his face.
Dean looked at the nearly empty saline-bag above their heads and eyed the other one, wich the nurse had left on the bedside-table with two different vials and a syringe.
„I'm sorry, kiddo. - No fun-stuff for ya' yet ...", Dean muttered and inched closer with the chair towards the bed.
The younger man squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to remember what happened, where he was and why the hell his eyelids felt too heavy to open them. His lips felt dry and at least as disobedient as his eyelids at the moment.
But he heard. He heard a man's voice. A questioning voice … And he wanted to answer. Wanted to ask … but all that came out was a pained groan.
Dean frowned, not knowing exactly what to say … he actually didn't know the guy. Didn't know what to say to make him fight. What did a hooker had to fight for anyways?
Actually Dean Winchester had never thought about that … had never thought about hookers the way he started to now. These people made you feel loved and as if you were something special. Sure you had to pay for it. But for your time being you were their king or their queen. They mostly didn't just let you fuck them … some of them were able to give you so much more than just satisfying your needs.
Dean had never thought about the way the people in this kind of business might felt …
„It's alright, Morgan. - Just relax.", he said then after a while, watching the man fight for conciousness. „Just … just take your time, man."
After exhaustion claimed him all over again, Sam let himself being dragged back into darkness …
Dean watched the man some more time as he had settled down again and shook his head pensively, before he leaned back in the chair, blowing out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding.
Eventually the hunter fell asleep again too.
When the nurse came into the room, Dean jerked awake from the noise of rattling crockery and flatware on a plate in the nurse's hands.
She wore a tired smile on her lips, her blue eyes dazed with sleepiness and her long blonde hair was quite messed up as if she had just gotten out of bed.
„Breakfast for our sleeping beauty over here ..." She smiled tiredly and sniffed, placing the tray on the bedside-table.
Dean nodded at her his thanks and rubbed over his eyes. „Excuse me ...", he muttered hoarsely. „Is there any place I can get a breakfast for myself?"
Sarah nodded, but she didn't smile anymore. „There's a Starbucks one block over. - But the guys who own it now don't take money … They're collecting silver ..."
He murmured something and gave her another nod, too tired to even say a word that early in the morning. His stomach was rumbling badly at the sight of the hooker's food right in front of his nose.
Sarah turned away and was about to walk towards the door as she stopped and turned around with a soft smile on her lips. She took Dean in, wearing a grateful expression in her eyes.
„You know … that's real nice and kinda sweet of you ...", she said hesitantly, her look darting in between the man on the bed and the hunter.
Dean looked at her utterly confused for a moment.
„You … and him … - It's nice to know that someone cares about people like him too.", she explained silently. „Not everyone would do that ..." Something like hope flickered up in her big blue eyes.
Dean sighed and rubbed over his face, not really thinking about his next words. „He's a witness. - I need to know about some things and he's the only one who's able to help me with it … so … I kinda have to watch out for him ..."
Something in the nurse's expression changed and if Dean wasn't completely mistaken it was sadness … and deepest disappointment. As if he had destroyed something essential deep down in her soul with his words.
She blinked a couple of times and bit down on her lower lip before she turned around and left the room without saying anything else.
The hunter looked at the hooker again, his look blank for a moment, before a range of emotions played across his face. The woman was right … no one cared these days about someone else. At least not about those outside of your family.
So yeah … these times had also changed Dean in more ways than he would've wanted to admit. He didn't care that much about collateral damage anymore. Hell … the hooker here was just some kind of tool to him so he could save others … People who'd be kind of more worth-fo-being-saved.
Maybe he should remember what he was like, before all of this had happened. Somehow he had gotten emotionally cold and dismissive. It was more enjoyable to kill the beast, instead of saving the life of a human.
He just didn't care as much anymore as he had done before …
Dean had went out to the Starbucks around the corner to get some coffee and something that looked like biscuits in exchange for a broken silver-coin from Sam's wallet.
When he returned, the day shift had obviously arrived and there were no tracks anymore from the nurse that had been there over night. There were three now, standing at the counter and were chattering about something as Dean passed them.
Someone grabbed him by the bicep and held him back. The hunter looked over his shoulder and gazed at the nurse confused, who gave him a serious look
„Wouldn't go in there. - His pimp's here. Guess they have an open bill.", was all she said. Her voice calm and serious.
Dean glanced at the shut door and back at the nurse, cocking an eyebrow.
„Is that so?", he asked and glanced back at the door from where a loud voice was heard.
She nodded. „Better not get in between a pimp and his hooker. - Could get out of hand ..."
„What about the guards?", Dean asked frowning.
The nurse gave a huff and shook her head, as if Dean had made a bad joke. „Went for breakfast when Hank came in. - He's practically reigning the district.", she explained silently. „No one wants him as an enemy, boy."
„Is just Hank in there?", he asked then.
The nurse nodded.
Dean cleared his throat, letting the woman's words sink in. He looked at the other both who stared abashed to the ground. Then he placed the bag with his biscuits and the coffee on the counter and eyed the three for another moment.
„That'd better be here when I come back.", He said warningly and took off towards the hooker's room just a couple of feet ahead.
Sam sat at the edge of the bed, listening to his pimp's ray of bitching. When he paused he finally had a chance to speak up for himself. „I'm sorry, Hank. - I … I'll get it back, okay? I'll pay it in about a week, okay? … Just … just give me some more days to get the money together."
Hank huffed and brushed his long strands of blonde hair back behind his ear. „In your condition? - You're a dead man, Morgan. All I want is the money you're owing me.", he yelled angrily. „And then get off of my strip. - There's no use of you like this, dammit."
Sam swallowed hard, fighting nausea and the throbbing pain in his head. Fighting the white dots that danced before the darkness of his wide open eyes. „I don't have the money. - Just … just give me a chance, okay?"
Without forewarning the pimp grabbed Sam's hair and pulled him off of the bed. Instantly Sam's knees started to buckle and he sank to the floor. Wouldn't it had been for Hank's strong grip in his hair, he would've crashed to the floor without being able to catch himself.
Sam winced and grabbed the hand that held him up roughly.
„Please ...", he begged, pressing the arm on his injured side against his body. „I can do that. - You could use me in the club … don't you?"
The pimp snarled and his lips creased in disgust as he let go of Sam's hair. „There's no use for a blind guy. - No one wants to be fucked by someone who doesn't even see what he's doing. - All I want is the money, kid."
Sam shook his head, trying to shake off the dizziness, as he felt his heart speed up. „I don't have it anymore …"
„Bullshit!", Hank yelled and lunged out with his clenched fist.
Dean stopped for a moment, with his hand on the door-handle and his eyebrows furrowed. He listened for a moment to the growing yelling of the foreign voice inside and then something hit something else with a loud thump. All he had been able to hear was something about money and where it is and if it was freakin' worth it …
That was when Dean threw the door open and stopped in the doorway, staring at the picture before him in disbelieve. He hadn't thought that someone could be possibly taller as Morgan … but damn, this Hank was one giant hulk – just less muscular … and not green …
The pimp stood over the hooker in a threatening pose. His long blonde hair falling in soft curls down over his shoulder-blades.
He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the intruder and gave him a hateful snarl. „Fuck off, or you're next.", he hissed and hovered back over the man to his feet.
„Says who?", Dean asked calmly and took a couple of feet forward so that he was able to close the door behind him.
The hooker laid in a crumbled heap on the floor, one arm thrown over his head protectively, his legs pulled up to his chest as if to prevent his ribs and stomach from being hit.
„The Boss.", the guy hissed and shot another glance over his shoulder. „That's private."
In the very same moment as the pimp lunged out to grab the man to his feet by the hair again, Dean leaped forward with a bed-pan - he had grabbed from the cupboard to his right - and hit a blow on the back of the pimp's head, who crumbled down into a huge heap on the floor.
The hunter threw the bed-pan onto the bed and straightened up with a satisfied grin on his lips.
„That's for telling me to fuck off … never tell a Winchester to fuck off … ", he muttered and took a big step over the giant. „You okay?", he asked Sam, who lurked up behind his bangs. „Morgan?"
The hooker pulled his arm away and stared through the hunter above him. „Dean?", he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
Dean pulled a set of handcuffs from his back-pocket (don't ask why he carried them around with him … he in fact had his reasons) and hurried up to get the pimp chained to the iron part of the bed-end.
„Did you see any other bad-ass hunters around that place?", he asked with a cocky grin and he extended his hand towards the hooker.
A faint smile ghosted over the younger man's face. „Didn't expect you to come back … thought you were gone ..."
Dean chuckled. „Hunters need to eat eventually.", he reached further down, his hand close to Sam's face now.
But he wouldn't grab it. The hooker just stared through it … and something dawned in the back of the hunter's head.
Dean frowned and his eyes narrowed. „You okay?"
The hooker cast his look down with deep creases on his forehead. „I'm kind of … not able to see at the moment.", he muttered. „Maybe you could just drop me off on the strip? - So … so I can get my stuff?"
Dean pulled his hand back and sniffed. „So … you're telling me you're practically blind? - And … that I should drop you off on the strip without you seeing anything? Dude, you can't even cross a street right now, ain't ya?"
Sam propped up on his arms, the stitches of his injury pulling painfully at his flesh. „Ain't none of your business, hunter, is it? - I'm gonna get some of my stuff and hit the road to … somewhere else ..."
Dean looked at the guy in disbelieve. „How do you think you can go … somewhere else? - You're probably dead before you'd even be able to find ya' way out of town, kiddo." … had to be the painkillers talking, or Morgan had hit his head harder as he had thought.
Sam got awkwardly back on his feet and wiped with the back of his hand over his mouth, brushing away the blood from his lower split lip. There was also forming a dark bruise on his right cheek-bone.
Sam's legs were still trembling, but he felt able to take a few steps and sit back on the edge of the bed.
„Do you have any relatives?", he asked then with a worried frown, somehow admiring the hookers determination.
„No ...", Sam muttered and shook his head, bracing himself up on the bed, so not to topple over. „... there's no one left ..."
The hunter glanced back down at the unconscious pimp beside him with a deep sigh. „Did you talk to a doc already?"
Sam shook his head.
„Don't you want to know if it's temporary or … permanent?", the hunter asked confused. The man seemed to take the news pretty well at the aspects of his way too serious situation.
„How are they supposed to tell?", Sam snapped at him and bit down on his lower lip – hard.
„Sure.", the hunter muttered to himself and blew out a deep sigh. „Tell you what … - I'll get you back to your appartement, we'll gather some of the things you need and I'll take you with me, okay?" He wasn't quite sure if this would be a good idea … but what was he supposed to do? He needed the guy, had some more questions … AND he couldn't leave him out there like this. - He wouldn't survive a day in his state. „I've … a cabin in the woods. - It's a safe place ..." … there was no way he'd tell the guy about his honest destination – the bunker. Besides it wouldn't matter, would it? The man wouldn't be able to SEE where they were heading.
Sam frowned and looked in the direction where the voice came from and added in his thoughts: Where no one's gonna hear my screams, huh?
„Okay …", he said and shook his head at the same time. He needed someone who'd take him to his apartment. He needed someone who'd show him the way.
He hadn't imagined his end like this, but he had no other choice did he? He was useless to himself like this. He couldn't stay because of Hank and he couldn't leave because of his medical condition. So he'd do what he promised himself he'd do if he stood before a decision like that. If it was about a short and halfway painless death or about suffering. And Sam sure as hell didn't want to suffer … He knew about his chances of survival out there in his condition – so it'd be just a matter of time.
The door to the examination room opened slowly and one of the three nurses lurked inside through the small gap. Her gaze fell on the man who lay in an awkward angle on the floor, handcuffed to the bed. Then she looked at the hunter's back, and then opened the door a little further so she'd be able to snatch a glance at the younger man on the bed.
„Hey!", she called out silently.
Dean turned around baffled and cocked both eyebrows at the small woman.
„Got something for your friend.", she whispered silently and held her hand with a bundle of fabric out through the gap.
The hunter frowned at her for a moment before he went to get what she had to offer and gave her a thankful nod.
„I'll get his meds ready. - You go and get him dressed and out of here. Don't take the main-entrance, some of Hanks men just got here.", she hurried up speaking as she glanced over her shoulder. „Lisa's keepin' them busy for the moment …"
Dean's eyes widened and gave her another nod then. „Thanks, ma'am.", he muttered with a small smile.
„Nothing to thank for. - Just hurry the hell up, hunter.", she winked at him and disappeared, closing the door carefully.
Short after the same nurse was back, with a paper-bag, the coffee and the bag Dean had left on the counter, they were ready to take off. The hunter thrusted the bag with the meds in one of Sam's hands. He then gave the bag with the biscuits into Sam's other hand and slung the taller man's arm around his neck to help him walk. The nurse held the door open and gestured down the corridor, telling them how they would get back to their car in front of the hospital without crossing their way with Hank's men.
Dean then grabbed the coffee and they started to make their way down the corridor. As they heard men laughing and heavy footfalls wich couldn't be from the nurses, Dean sped their pace up a little.
The hunter stopped at the outside and let Sam catch his breath for a moment, who was now heavily panting and sweaty from the effort it took him to keep up the pace, Dean set.
The hooker was pretty wobbly on his feet, not to mention that he couldn't see anything. So Dean took the lead again and guided him to the Impala, where he helped him into the passenger's seat. He then hurried around the car and slid behind the steering wheel, doing nothing lovelier than leaving as fast as possible. Hank would be pissed as hell when he'd wake up with a goose egg on the back of his head and without his hooker.
Sam let his head rest against the cool window, holding the two bags in his lap, while he stared into nothingness.
Dean glanced from time to time at the hooker in his passenger's seat. Relieved that the man was alive and speakable. But worried about his physical condition since he wouldn't be able to just kick him out of the bunker as soon as he knew everything he needed to.
„My apartement is two blocks behind the strip in an apartment-complex. There's some ivy growing up on the ladder beside the main-entrance. Second floor, apartment 27a.", Sam said silently as he continued to stare out of the window with a blank expression on his face.
Dean nodded and licked over his lower lip. He didn't have to take care of too much traffic, since there weren't a lot of cars left that were ridable. Neither were a whole lot of people around the streets, even in bright daylight.
Only at night, when the hookers came out onto the strip and when their needy clients joined them - this part of the city roared back to life – somehow.
„You take the main-street, on the second crossroad you turn right and drive her into the second alley to the left then.", Sam added after a long time.
„You sure you have no relatives? - It's not a biggy, I could take you to them, kid." Dean couldn't hide the hint of pity that swung with his words.
„No. - There's no one.", Sam answered again.
„How could you know?", Dean asked then. „After the crash ..."
„Because I live on the road since I'm fifteen, hunter. - So trust me when I say that there's no family.", Sam answered coldly, hoping that he'd shut down the conversation with it.
„Fine.", came back, rather convinced.
They made it to their destination earlier than Dean had thought. He also had found the alley and the fire ladder with the ivy at the first try. When he turned the ignition and the roar of the Impala died, Sam straightened up in the seat, laying his hand on the door handle.
„Wait ...", Dean said hesitantly. „Why don't you wait here and I get your stuff packed. - It'd be faster and easier ..."
Sam's head snapped towards him. All the glistening sparkles in his eyes from the past night gone. „I'm coming with. There are some personal things I'd like to take with me."
„Okay ...", he gave back with a sigh and got out of the car and rounded it.
While Dean walked in front of him, Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, following his very move not to bump into something or someone. But it sounded silent in the complex and Sam wondered for a moment if they truly were in the right one.
They made it onto the second floor, with Sam stumbling occasionally up the stairs when he didn't get them right. But Dean was there every time to catch him before he could hurt himself further. When they finally opened the apartment-door with the key Sam had given to the hunter in the car, Sam was panting again and looked utterly exhausted.
„Thank you.", Sam muttered and flashed the hunter a short small smile, as he tentatively walked past him.
The apartment didn't seem like there was someone living in there. It looked more like a place to sleep than to live. It didn't seem like there was water, Dean had noticed, when he saw water-bottles beside the door. He watched Sam carefully as the younger man took a sharp turn into a room to his left.
Dean rubbed over his face and sighed deeply, walking slowly forward. It was dirty and … greasy … and so not like the bunker. This place was worse than a prison. The walls seemed damp, the wallpapers were partly gone or ripped off the walls. Because of the lack of electricity there wasn't even a way to lighten up the small corridor, that seemed to lead into another room on its end.
He walked further and rounded the corner into the room where Sam had gone. Even if the guy wouldn't say it, he sure as hell would need help to get his stuff packed up.
It obviously was the room where the hooker used to sleep – Dean had to conclude as he saw the mattress on the floor wich was covered with a bile of blankets and two rotten pillows.
If he wasn't completely wrong he could also hear rats … or something else crawling inside the walls.
A shiver ran up Dean's spine. No one should have to live that way … but he knew that there were plenty of people out there that haven't had another choice.
His gaze fell onto the form that stood before a closet between two big windows, with the back towards him. Morgan was holding something in his hands – at least it looked that way.
Then the hunter heard a too familiar noise … a click and a clack … the noise of when he took the safety of a gun off. And then a silvery gleaming piece of metal appeared in the hooker's right hand, wich he rose to his head.
Sam's lips quivered. He hadn't thought that it'd be that difficult. He thought it was just about pulling the trigger. But the knowledge that it'd be final, that if he wouldn't aim right, that he'd bleed out – painfully … But did it really matter? It wasn't the worst way to leave this world. Hell, he could get ripped apart or fall into the hands of ghouls or vampires out there.
It'd be better than going with the hunter and ending up as some sex-toy or pet. He had heard enough to know that something like that could happen. And Sam knew one thing: He didn't want to end like that.
He wouldn't take a chance.
If the man'd take him to the cabin … and it'd be a mistake … he'd be lost, in the hands of a stranger who he didn't know, who could do everything to him … with him. Maybe the hunter was a psychopath after all …
Hell the guy could turn him around five times and he'd be lost in the room he had lived in for the past couple of years.
So yes, this was the only thing he could do, the only thing that'd guarantee that he wouldn't starve to death. He'd control it, he'd end it.
Dean gulped down a yell, as he saw the hooker pointing at his own head with the barrel. Instead he narrowed ever so silently from behind, praying that he'd be there before the man would pull the trigger.
Dean watched the shaky hand wich held the gun in a vice-grip. The hooker was uncertain of what he was going to do … Probably he didn't know what he wanted at the moment. But Dean understood. He'd put himself out of his misery if he thought it'd be better for that way. - Specially with a stranger by his side who could be EVERYTHING.
When Dean stood behind him – so close their bodies nearly touched – he slowly laid his hand over Sam's in wich he was holding the gun.
The hooker tried to flinch away, attempting to take a step backwards, but he bumped into another body.
„I know what you think.", Dean whispered calmly. „That's why you were so calm in the hospital, weren't you?" He sighed deeply and guided the gun slowly down, until Sam let go of it and Dean put the safety back on. „Tell you what: You come with me. - You tell me everything about you. Help me to figure out why these demons want certain people dead … and then … then I'll let you do whatever you want to, okay? - Just help me save some lives."
The hooker shook his head violently for a moment, then he let it hung. Tears gathered in his eyes and dared to break like a damn dam.
Dean laid his hand on the man's good shoulder and squeezed it gently. „Help me to save those lives and I'm going to get you the stuff to make it right. - You won't have to pull a trigger. It'll be like falling asleep, Morgan." He couldn't believe himself of what he was saying right there to the man.
But Dean Winchester knew that for someone with a disability like this … „But until then, Morgan … until then you're going to be under my watch. - Me and my friends will take care of you, okay?"
„Why would you do this?", Sam asked trembling, wrapping his long arms around his middle.
„To be honest?" No, the hunter didn't think about what he was saying. „Because I need you to figure out why they kill those people. - You're my only lead. You're the only one who can help me with this ..."
Somehow it hurt. . It hurt, that the hunter just wanted to stop him from killing himself, because he NEEDED him. Because he wouldn't be able to figure out why they were after them – after him. It hurt, that no one cared about him because of who and what he was. He was a nobody. A hooker. Just a whore who wouldn't be missed. And now that he didn't see anything (what in fact wasn't completely true) anymore (no matter if it was temporary or permanent) … he was so much less worth now.
It hurt that he felt like he wasn't even good enough to be fucked anymore. - At least he had got any use out there … and now?
Now he could at least save some lives, if the hunter was telling the truth and that wasn't quite as bad. He could do something good at least … before he'd say goodbye to this world.
„You promise? - When I told you everything about myself, you'll do it? You'll give me something to fall asleep?" Sam looked back over his shoulder. If he'd been able to see the hunter's emerald-green eyes, he would've caught them streight away.
Dean gave him a short nod as he chewed on his lower lip and looked aside for a brief moment. Thinking of what he just had offered to the younger man and something like guilt flared up deep down in his heart for a moment.
He had offered him to help him killing himself … Now Dean wasn't sure if he really wanted to do that, even if the guy might stay handicapped. Then again … maybe the blindness was just temporary and his sight would return in a couple of days … „I do.", he said then silently with regret ont he words edges. „If you still want to pull it off then, I'll do."
Sam nodded and sniffed, swallowing back a sob and closed his eyes for a moment. „I do have your word?", he asked again – just to be sure that the guy wouldn't leave him to the monsters out there.
„You have my word.", he stated and tugged the man's gun in his own waistband.
„Thank you.", Sam muttered, blinking tears away.
„So … we should hurry. - Your pimp won't be happy when he wakes up." The hunter cleared his throat and glanced at the makeshift bed ont he floor. „You tell me what you wanna take with you and I'll get the stuff." He then paused. „You've a back bag or a duffel somewhere around?"
Sam nodded. „In the closet on the bottom. - A dark-brown leather-bag-pack."
Dean guided the hooker then towards the mattress and let him sit down on it. He then went to the closet and got the bag-pack. Sam told him what he wanted to take with – what actually wasn't much.
There was a picture Sam wanted. A picture of a young couple, but definitely they'd be way older by now. The hunter guessed that this had to be the man's parents … He then gathered some of the clothes and the pair of flip-flops that stood beside the mattress.
Sam then told him to take the food with, that was hidden under a false bottom of the closet. Four dozens cans and tins with ravioli, mac & cheese and peaches.
When they got everything, Dean shouldered the bag-pack and the duffel on one shoulder and steadied Sam with his other arm, as they made their way back to the Impala. The hunter then helped the younger man into the passenger's seat before he tossed the bag-pack and the duffel into the trunk.
…... to be continued
first of all: I AM SORRY FOR MY SPELLING MiSTAKES. English isn't my first language.
though I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
