7

With Feeling

"Did you just call me Dean?" Dean said, groggy, absently touching his bleeding wrists.

"More to the point," Gabby said behind them. "Did she just call you 'honey'?" Lucy scowled at her mischievous grin over her shoulder. She turned her attention back to Dean.

"Are you alright?" She asked. He nodded slowly, trying to remember why there would be a dull ache in the back of his head. "How in the hell did you even get up there?!" She exclaimed. Dean shook his head.

"I honestly have no idea." He remembered the lights, the thing knocking him over and hitting him in the face (that's why his head hurt!), and waking up to Lucy's voice. George. The alleged theatre ghost was real, had to be. He hadn't seen anything, and if there was something it was moving too fast for him to see. Inhumanly fast.

Lucy took his arm, turning his wrist over, trying to evaluate the damage.

"'M alright." He grumbled, trying to pull away. She held fast, glaring at him.

"Come with me." She said, standing, still hanging onto his arm. He scrambled up, struggling to keep up with her quick strides.

"Hey, easy! I'm still tryin' to get the room to stop spinnin'!" He complained. She slowed, looking back at him apologetically.

"Sorry." She mumbled. She dragged him into the girl's dressing room, which was vacant, and sat him down in the closest chair. She ripped open the Stage Manager's box and dug to the bottom to retrieve the first aid kit. She went back over to him, sitting on the counter in front of him and grabbing his arm again.

"This is gonna sting." She warned, tearing open an alcohol swab.

"I've had worse than this," He shrugged. She glanced up at him before dabbing the alcohol on the open sore. He hissed, biting his lip. She looked at him expectantly. "Okay, that doesn't mean it doesn't sting." He amended. She smiled.

She took the gauze and the medical tape out of the kit and began wrapping his wrist.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean said.

"Shoot." Lucy said, her eyes never leaving her task.

"Why did you call me Dean? And honey?" He asked, unsure how she would answer. He half expected her to yell. But she shrugged.

"I was worried. I thought you were dead." She said.

"And you'd be upset if I died?" Dean asked. She nodded.

"Hell yeah, I would. Isaac's your understudy and he'd be terrible for this part. We need you alive and well for the next two months." She smirked. Dean shook his head, smiling himself. She started wrapping his other wrist.

"Were you expecting a different answer?" She inquired. He shook his head again.

"No, I guess I wasn't." They were quiet for an awkward moment.

"Alright," She said, sliding off the counter and putting the kit away. "You're all set, Jockstrap." Dean stood, head spinning and pounding when he did. He held a hand out to steady himself, eyesight normal in seconds.

"Thanks, Luce." He said, smiling lightly. She shrugged.

"Anytime. Just be careful, alright?" She said. He headed for the door. "Oh, and Jockstrap?" He turned. "Don't ever call me Luce again." He chuckled and walked out the door.


One week later…

Dean had told Sam about what had happened. They had checked every day for any sign of EMF and found absolutely nothing. Not even a flicker.

"Well, I know someone didn't get the drop on me." Dean had said.

"Maybe someone did," Sam suggested. Dean glared at him. "Hey, it could happen, Dean."

"Not with these people. I didn't even see what the bastard looked like. Had to be a ghost, Sammy."

"Alright, alright," Sam surrendered. "But we've checked for any sign of anything everyday this week and we've come up with nothing."

"Let's just wait," Dean said. "If it's a ghost they're bound to come up again, right?" Sam nodded.

"Then I guess we wait."

That was five days ago. Now Dean walked into rehearsal, glancing down at what looked like a destroyed Walkman in his pocket. Not even a blip. He sighed and looked up, watching the people on stage. Lucy and Joey's backs were to him. Lucy had her arm around Joey's shoulders. Joey's face was buried in Lucy's shoulder, his body shaking lightly. Dean frowned and hurried down the stairs, dropping his bag and turning to see what was going on.

Tears were slowly trekking their way down Joey's face, his eyes were red rimmed and swollen, his nose pink. Pieces of his long blonde hair hung in his face, almost as if he did it on purpose. He kept his eyes on the stage, lost in his own thoughts.

Dean gave Joey a cursory glance, making sure he wasn't hurt or had been hurt. He didn't see anything –thank god- that had physically been done.

"What's going on?" Dean whispered to Leslie, who was standing next to Lucy, eyes fiery, jaw set.

"His-"

"If you wanna talk to me just ask," Joey croaked. Dean looked up at him guiltily. "Cal broke up with me." Dean winced.

A fresh wave of sobs came over Joey, the tears moving a little faster. Lucy squeezed his arm, brushing hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

"It's okay, Jo-Jo." She whispered.

"Why?" Dean asked, frowning. Joey laughed ruefully, swallowing hard.

"He likes someone else." He said bitterly.

"Can ask who?" Dean said. Leslie's scowl deepened. Joey's lip trembled.

"Alexis Hamilton." He choked. Dean winced again. He looked to Lucy. And for the first time in his life, he was deathly afraid of her.

The hate in her face was so strong, the color in her cheeks fire engine red, her free hand gripping the edge of the apron so tight her knuckles were white. If anyone made her the least bit angry right now, he was sure they would die a slow and painful death.

"You're too good for him anyway." Dean said in an attempt to cheer him up. Joey gave a very forced small smile. He bowed his head, his composure starting to leave him.

"He called me…he c-called me a faggot." He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Lucy wrapped her arms around him and rested his head on her chest.

Dean felt hot anger bubble in his stomach. Joey was his friend, and people didn't jack with his friends. Especially not closet-case assholes that play with people's emotions.

"Shh…" Lucy soothed. "It'll be okay, Jo-Jo. It'll be alright." Joey sniffed as a response.

"I don't think I meant anything to him." He said bitterly.

"Then he wasn't right for you, honey," Lucy said gently. "If he can't see how special you are then you don't need him."

"What's wrong with me?" Joey whispered. Leslie stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his knee.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, do you hear me? You are the greatest guy I know. You treat everyone you see with so much kindness and love…He doesn't know what he's missing, Joey." She assured.

"You want me to kick his ass?" Dean growled, flexing his jaw. "'Cause I got friends that can rough him up like no other. And one that's gonna be a doctor so we won't kill him." Joey shook his head.

"He's just confused. Maybe he'll-"

"Don't tell me you'd actually take him back?" Dean asked, skeptical. Joey looked up at him, wincing at his tone. His face was vulnerable, his eyes wide. Dean's face and voice softened. "Joe, I know guys like this. I know what they do. They take good people like you and use them to get something out of it. Then they toss 'em over and over again because they know they'll sit there and take it. Don't be one of those people. You're better than that. And you're my friend. You don't deserve it." He said gently. Joey nodded, sniffing again.

"It still hurts." He gulped. Lucy hugged him again. Joey hugged her back burying his face in her neck and crying. Turk stepped out onto the stage. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped in seeing the situation. He looked at Lucy and Joey, at Dean and Leslie and everyone else who looked either angry or empathetic.

Lucy looked at Turk, trying to convey what was going on without actually saying it. Turk nodded and gestured off stage to where the couch was. Lucy nodded in understanding.

She gently lifted Joey's head and took his hands, standing and leading him off stage. They sat down on the couch; Lucy quickly hugged her hurting friend. Joey hugged her back, tears falling silently now, feeling betrayed, used, and ultimately unloved.

And the rest of them rehearsed. They used their anger and traded it in for passion. It was the best rehearsal Turk had seen them do.

--More soon!!--