A/N: So, I've got another chapter up! I'm trying to move the story along because I'm starting to gather a plot around Harrison but in order to get to the main action of that plot I have to stick in some clues and other information. And I figure I'll throw in some action while we learn about Harrison. So, hope this hasn't moved too fast. I'm easing into some action with this chapter and over the next few ones the boys will face their first challenge. Just keep in mind there is a bigger, more important part later to come, this is just to keep you guys from getting bored. Enjoy! And please let me know what you think, because I love it!
P.S. Thank you everyone for all the wonderful reviews. It's what makes me update so fast so keep em coming.
P.P.S. There was going to be more on this chapter but I have neglected my chores so that means another update will be up shortly. Within a day or two :D
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Harrison.
The Winchester Effect
By: Babyhilts
Chapter 6: Restless Nights
Moonglow, California
June 24, 2006
The lingering terror of tainted dreams made the hunter's pulse race. He sat rigid, wiping away remnants of sleep. Harrison fought to calm the thrashing of his heart. Panic churned the pizza and Fritos still settling in his stomach from the night before.
Darkness hovered, soft and fading around him. A few more hours and the sun crawl to the surface of azure and cottons of white. For now the night remained and Harrison struggled to understand why he was sitting in the middle of it all.
Brushing moist palms along the ground he discovered not carpet but tarmac. Rough heated gravel still warm with the torturous heat of the June sun. As his eyes grew akin to the ebony walls he found himself far from the comfort of the less than stellar motel room.
Crickets played to the tune of hot summer nights; their soft chirp echoing through the dark. An accompaniment of Ford's, Oldsmobile's, Chevy's and the like shattered whatever silence remained; trekking down the nearby highway, located in the unseen distance.
The faint glow of neon lights arose from the black. Harrison pinpointed the lights to the jade colored sign announcing to tourists and shopaholics that they had reached The Greenville mall. It was at that point the young man spotted the hunched necks of lampposts, sprinkled strategically throughout the parking lot. All of which were closer to the building itself and far away from him.
Left to stumble through the dark, Harrison decided to make his way home. He vaguely remembered passing through that part of town. Although the mall hadn't been a standout landmark, he could picture it in his mind. Draw a mental map and calculate the direction to take from his current position to the motel.
Although sweat created an extra layer atop his back, he was thankful for the t-shirt and jeans. Admittedly he'd felt more than a bit ridiculous when he'd gone to sleep in his daywear. Sam's jeans weren't the most comfortable when going to bed. Jeans in general shouldn't be worn for anything other than hunting and flirting in. And by flirting he meant a stop at the bar ended with a good lay.
However, although uncomfortable and picking up some slack from Dean about it, he'd gone through with his plan. After waking up in odd places during the previous nights he decided it had to be done. Of course, the places were not so far away from the motel. Outside the room door or passed out in the drivers seat of the Impala, both were better and less disconcerting than waking up in the mall parking lot, twenty minutes away.
Harrison knew that his stress levels weren't at their high. He hadn't felt so relieved in years. He had his old man back, whether it was in the form of a man the same age as him it didn't matter. He was back. Add to that the uncle he never met and things were going great. Two trained hunters to have his back. What more could he ask for? Except maybe to be rid of his sleepwalking.
No, if anything he was overjoyed. High on life and all that cliché goodness everyone seems to spout when their happy. However, he just seemed to pull an impression of the walking dead every other night, regardless of his state of mind. This was unsettling because up until recently he'd chopped it up to stress. Now that there was none it grew worse. It didn't make any sense.
Dean was catching on. Twice he'd found Harrison somewhere other than the cot or the floor. The hardest to explain had been the other morning when he awoke to the pounding of fists on the Chevy's glass window. Dean had this rabid animal look about him. Standing there in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, staring through the glass like a child at a zoo. He seemed intrigued at first and then anger washed over him in waves. Harrison couldn't figure it out. Didn't understand how he'd gotten there until he unlocked the door and found his uncles hands fisted around his collar.
Dean went on a scream. Shouting with spittle flying; rage dousing the air like gasoline to a corpse before a routine salt and burn. Through all the yelling he only made out the words "horny punk" "going at it" and "soiled upholstery." Harrison was ready to fly off handle himself. The older man's hands had moved to his arms; enforcing enough strength to bruise the thick buildup of muscle. Just when he was ready to throw a punch the younger man looked down. Discovered himself clad only in his boxers. Without a t-shirt or pants, close to naked in the parking lot. He realized how it must have looked. So he came up with some lie about the bed being uncomfortable. Dean didn't buy it but he let it be known that if he found Harrison asleep in the car again there'd be blood.
Back to the current situation and the current problem and how it all came together. It seemed only that more troublesome for Harrison when he entered the room and found the keys lying atop Dean's jacket. The door has been locked and he remembered because just before Dean went into verbal karate mode, he'd had to unlock the door.
All in all things weren't looking very promising. If there hadn't been any stress of late, there sure as hell was some on the rise. Sleepwalking he could deal with but breaking through locked cars while unconscious? That took talent even he didn't possess.
Harrison walked the stretch of highway back to the motel. Fifteen minutes into it he came upon a convenient store. Not so conveniently tucked away from the highway. He was itching for a cigarette. Although he figured five minutes more and he'd be back at the motel where he had half a pack remaining, he just wanted one in the moment. A nice cancer stick to signal the start of a new day. Besides his caffeine levels were at an all time low and if he was planning on staying up for the rest of the day -which at that point he was- he'd need to reboot.
The young man picked his way over gravel. Sharp, protruding rocks picking at the soles of his feet before he found the door. Two vehicles, an old busted pickup truck, half coated in black and the remainder in rust and a red Jetta sat parked beside one another. Harrison wondered why anyone would be out that late. Condomless couples in need of a pit stop? Maybe a couple of teens with the munchies? He didn't know and after another minute, he didn't care.
He scoffed the No shirt, No shoes, No service sign and entered the building. He was aware of a bell ringing. The startling glare of the sodium lights to his eyes a moment to become acquainted with.
Easing through the dance of red and green spots the forms of chip racks and an old Pac Man machine began to take shape. He made his way across the cool linoleum. The stale touch of conditioned air against his skin was a gentle relief from what awaited outside.
Behind the front counter a girl with light brown curls and wide eyes to match, stood erect. One hand fingered a page in her Cosmopolitan while the other seemed poised on something beneath the counter. An emergency alert button?
Although desperate for a smoke but never one to turn down a pretty face, Harrison shifted direction and made a beeline for the brunette. He followed her gaze towards the back of the store. To where a group of four or five, none too teenage like, stood around the coolers. They were rowdy and cursing a storm. No wonder the kid was shaken up.
"Marlboros."
The girl jumped. Her head whipped around. Startled from her fantasies of a possible robbery and having to call the cops. She was clearly frazzled and perhaps even a bit flaky. He knew this because his eyes couldn't help but fall upon the page in her magazine. The bold lettering that offered females tips on how to pick up the man of your dreams. Expensive kindling, he thought.
"Sorry, what was that?" her voiced shook as the words fought to be heard.
Harrison gave her his best, good guy grin.
"Marlboros, please." The girl nodded and fingered through the brands stacked behind the counter. "You guys wouldn't have any coffee here, would you?"
She came back with his cigarettes. Hands only slightly unsteady as she set them on the counter. Her face broke into a smile, genuine despite the increase of noise from the back.
"The coffee here isn't all that great. You'd just be wasting three dollars."
"An honest woman. I like that."
The brunette looked about ready to jump him right there. Harrison couldn't resist the sly, player smirk that tainted his lips. Were she to jump he didn't think he'd put up much of a fight. He wondered what could make such a cute girl so hard up.
As the blush began to recede, the girl's attention flicked back to the group near the coolers. Harrison followed, making it seem as though it had been the first time he'd heard them.
"They giving you a hard time?"
Her eyes fell on him once more. Alight with the prospect of a possible fight and maybe the chance of man defending her honor? Who knows. She was looking at him almost the same way that Dean had. Hungry, animal like but in a different sense.
"A bit. We're use to it now."
"What this happens often?"
"Since about a month or two ago, yeah."
Suddenly the geek in Harrison awoke. He had his mental post-it note system on and ready. His attention was grabbed and being held. Something about all this sounded oddly akin to a hunt in the making. And he'd be damned if he let a hunt get away.
"Why? What happened a month ago?"
"Nothing much really."
Her eyes glazed. She held them with his own, as if soaking him in. He wanted to slap her or shake her because he didn't much care how lonely she was or how desperately she needed a man. That was Cosmos job. Hunting evil was his.
"Not much except…"
"Except a bunch of college kids on summer break. Looking for a small town to hold up in until school starts I guess."
"They party a lot?"
"I don't know" she gave him this weird look. "I guess. There's been a few reports of noise and stuff from other people. Why are you asking so many questions? Are you a cop or something?"
"Just worried that's all."
"Worried?"
Harrison put on the mastered routine.
"Yeah, a pretty girl like yourself. Seems sorta dangerous that your boss lets you work the late shift with those types of people around."
The girl was eating it up. He could almost hear her brain turn to goo. Although a flake she may be he had to keep her from starting her own investigation.
Her eyes swelled with the anticipation of hearing more dribble when something shattered from the far back. The group of misfits shared a moment of joined laughter. Brunette tensed and subconsciously let her hand fall back into place beneath the counter. Harrison himself tensed because notifying the cops meant giving a report which in turn meant calling unwanted attention on himself and his family.
He was about ready to stop the girl from making any hasty decisions when the group emerged from the stacks of snack food. Two men and three women, carrying what appeared to be a bottle of Jacks and three cases of beer. Party animals indeed.
Harrison stood his ground in front of the counter. He wasn't about to leave and he'd yet to pay for his pack of cigarettes. The group of five seemed to crowd around him. Cornering him against the counter and eyeing him with a look of disbelief.
A manicured hand shot out from the crowd. It made home right in his stomach and the strength behind it was enough to knock him back a few steps. Just enough for one of the men to step into line behind the counter. Harrison fought for balance as they laid their supply of booze under the young woman's nose.
"Watch it, bozos" was all the hunter could come up with.
Staying quiet wasn't an option and stumbling around like an idiot impaired him from coming up with something the least bit witty. A blonde haired woman with colorless skin and chapped red lips pushed through the group. The others hovered, ready to attack. Harrison gathered his footing and made to look a few inches taller, trying his best to intimidate the woman who had managed to sneak a punch. It wouldn't happen again.
"That's no way to talk to a lady."
"Well when I see one around I'll apologize."
Lips curled into a malicious grin. Harrison felt sickened by the look she gave him. Eyeing every inch in a none too sultry way. Her eyes were dark, cold. Emotionless eyes that belonged to someone who could peel the flesh from your bones and forget to flinch. Harrison locked eyes and wanted desperately to flinch.
"Cocky one, aren't you?" she frowned "not very becoming I might add."
"What can I say? Manners aren't my thing."
"Obviously noted."
Harrison held his ground. He was kicking himself for not having fallen asleep with a shotgun or a bowie or even a damn butter knife. Still, he kept ground. Looked her straight in the eyes. He was itching to be somewhere else. Desperate for a cigarette and wishing the coffee at the store didn't suck because he could really use one.
He was vaguely aware of the two men hassling the girl behind the counter. They'd paid for their drinks and were making failed attempts to convince her in joining them. Harrison failed to keep the woman's gaze and turned his attention on the men. He was about to do the gentleman like thing. The whole, "you best be going now" thing seen in all those chick flicks. It was what the hero always did. Unfortunately for Harrison he forgot how unheroic he was. He hated hero's. They always did stupid, selfless things that got themselves killed just to save the idiot who didn't bother to stay outta trouble in the first place. He was a hunter not a hero. There was a difference.
Harrison forgot that difference and had a glimpse of heroism. He turned to help the clerk and found compacted hand in his face. Busting his nose and sending him off balance and ass first on the linoleum. The convenient store spun wild. The hunter grappled for the top of the counter because he was feeling unsteady and the pain in his nose was teetering on sending him unconscious. What kind of chick hit like that?
The group laughed. Short lived it still bruised the hunter's ego and it hurt a bit more than the blow itself. Through the slip sliding of the store, they gathered their things and headed for the exit. As they cackled their way into the parking lot, another woman from the entourage of hoodlums stole a quick glance. Her nose twitched, sniffing the air as if something about it peeked her interested. She eyed the man, holding his nose, his head pointed downward. The familiar shag of brown and the lanky form, hunched on the linoleum. She tasted the air once again and knew for sure.
A coy smile formed on her face and the woman disappeared into the night with the rest of her friends. Certain that what she'd seen and what she'd smelt was what she'd been hunting for the last year.
Harrison gathered the bundle of tissue paper around his nose. Soggy with blood, he searched for a dry piece. There was none. He found a spot a little less wet than the rest and placed it under his injured snout. Luckily he could see the motel and would have to wait long to clean himself up.
The clerk had been more than upset after the rowdy "supposed college kids" left. She'd been himing and hawing over his busted nose. Running to the bathroom and nearly begging to clean it for him. It was kind of awkward.
He'd accepted the free cigarettes she offered. It was the least she could have done for him. Right? He'd thanked her of course but once the smokes where in his pockets and the tissue was around his nose he was off. He had to hurry back to the motel before either of the Winchester brothers awoke. Answering questions that early in the morning was not on his To Do List.
Things weren't going to be that easy though. Of course not. He was a Winchester and if there was one thing that Winchesters didn't have, that was luck. It just so happened that he had somehow managed to get from the motel and to the city mall without having ever unlocked the room door. It wasn't going to budge. The knob flinched but didn't really turn. It wasn't as though he carried paperclips and bobbypins on him either but he would sure as hell start to when he went to bed. That and a bit of weaponry so he wouldn't end up being jumped by some busty blonde.
Harrison accepted his fate. With a sigh, he freed a hand from his bloodied nose and gave a sharp knock on the door. He heard a moan. He knocked again; harder. Something thudded behind the door. A string of slurred cursing grew louder as feet shuffled towards him. The lock turned and the chain slid out of place.
The young hunter grimaced at the tired glare of Dean Winchester. Mostly asleep, standing in nothing but boxers. Harrison forced a smile that he was sure probably couldn't even be seen from the bundle of tissue on his face. He motioned with his head for his uncle to move out of the way. Paying attention so as not to break the salt lining the door, he stepped across the threshold and headed for the bathroom.
Sam's fitful kicking could be heard through the small room. Mattress squeaking beneath each sharp thrust. He was glad to know that at least someone was still asleep.
Harrison flipped the light on. The door was only partially ajar as to keep from waking up Sam. He tossed the bloodied Kleenex into the garbage bin and eyed the caked blood and stained red around his nose. He rubbed at the crusted brown below his nostrils. Flakes raining down into the sink he made a noise of disgust.
Something slapped the back of the bathroom door. Loud enough to startle Harrison from his inspection, he turned and found Dean standing the doorway. The look on his face proved the he was more awake than he'd been a few seconds earlier and that he was far from being pleased. He eyed Harrison's injury and his mask softened for but a split second. Enough to give the young hunter a second to breathe before his uncle busted into his tirade.
Dean stepped into the bathroom and close the door behind himself.
"What the hell happened?"
Hushed, the voice still managed to convey all the anger that Harrison had become used to. There may have been a slight hint of worry buried beneath it but at the moment it was anger.
"Nothing. Go to bed."
"I was in bed. I was having a nice dream about Pamela Anderson I might add. Until some idiot nephew from the future woke me up."
"Whose Pamela Anderson?"
Dean growled. "Forget it. What happened?"
"Some chick took a swing at me."
The tension eased for a minute. Dean's face lit up with a wide smirk.
"A chick? Sammy didn't teach you to defend yourself when you were a kid?"
Through clenched teeth Harrison said "He taught me just fine. I don't think she was human."
"Harry, don't try and cover for yourself."
"It's Harrison" he seethed.
"Whatever kid. Wash up and get some rest. I'm going to guess you snuck out again tonight?"
"I'm twenty three. I don't have to sneak out. And no, I just went to the corner store. I was out of smokes."
Dean nodded and made to exit the bathroom.
"You know, smoking kills."
"Yeah, so does demon hunting."
"Smart ass" Dean muttered.
The elder hunter closed the door behind him. Deciding to let the kid clean himself up and catch a few more hours of sleep before he really tore into him about the do's and do not's of hunting with Dean Winchester. The first do not being not to go out partying with women and looking for trouble when on a job. When they weren't it would be fine, he'd probably even show the kid a few tricks but until then they had to keep quiet. Focused. God, he was sounding like Sam.
Dean maneuvered through the unlit motel room. Stumbling past the bathroom and stubbing a toe on the metal leg of Harrison's cot. Pain forced him to curse and swing his head back and forth as a way of trying to dispel the agony. It settled after a moment, although the discomfort and throbbing remained.
He kept his eyes peeled as he made his way back to his bed but not before catching his attention on something. Strung across the back chair of the motel room was Harrison's leather jacket. Laying limp and untouched in front of it was a pack of Marlboros. Dean eyed the bathroom door. Still closed he noted. He tentatively grabbed for the cigarettes and flipped open the slit of paper to discover half a pack of neatly rolled cylinders still inside.
Dean eyed the door once more. Realizing Harrison had lied. He wasn't sure about the why, just that the kid had lied and lying happened to be one of his other do not's.
Setting the pack back into place on the chair, he chose to settle this later on in the day. After a good rest and bit of thinking he'd pull him aside and get to the bottom of it. Things over the last five days had been strange to say the least. Finding Harrison asleep in the Impala, curled on the doorstep, in the middle of some nightmare. Strange was putting it all lightly. He'd get it out of Harrison one way or another. He'd have to or the kid wouldn't be riding with him and his brother for much longer.