Chapter 11: Dealing With Darkness

Dean stared dully at the wall as long buried emotions subsided. The darkness had nestled firmly under his skin, burrowed deep in his memories, but right now it felt different. Kind of like it was asleep. If it hadn't been for his demanding bladder, he might have stayed right there. However, Dean had no desire to add bed-wetting to his long list of spectacular failures, so he forced himself to stand.

God, he was tired. Every muscle in his body freaking ached as he shuffled slowly to the cramped bathroom. A glance at the second bed, empty, reminded him of who should be there. With a sigh, Dean turned his back on it.

Once his bladder had been relieved, Dean glanced into the mirror as he washed his hands. There was no longer a red glaze to his eyes. He tried a quick experiment, thinking of Sam calling him Dad's toy soldier. There was no voice in his head commenting on how worthless he was, no eager uncoiling of the darkness to come and feed. It was asleep.

Damn, but this thing was lazy. It couldn't defend them against Walker and his cronies and it fed until it fell asleep? Speaking of Walker...

Dean focused on the wrapped plastic cup by the sink. It rose slowly into the air, teetering back and forth. The plastic wrap split open and fell away. The cup rotated, spinning faster and faster, until it began to crack. Taking a step back, Dean continued to concentrate. The cracking intensified, the cup imploding to form a jagged plastic ball. As the ball spun fast enough for it to blur, it heated and the jagged edges melted back. Then the ball slowed.

Dean plucked the warm plastic ball from the air to examine it. "Wicked," he breathed, thoroughly impressed. He had no idea how he could do this, but at least he could defend them against all comers. The darkness seemed to think it had something to do with the accident, he knew. The fact he knew what the darkness thought sent a chill down his spine. He had hoped this 'merging' thing would take longer.


Sam stared morosely at the computer terminal as page after page of websites scrolled past. He had really thought his cell phone-gps chip trick would work. He'd tested it a few times and it had seemed to be tracking the Impala perfectly. It was almost as if something were blocking it, or Dean had found it. No, Sam decided, most likely he hadn't checked the battery in a while. Damn it! And when he really needed it too!

Focusing on the object of his current search, none of the search hits looked even remotely promising for explaining what targeted Dean in the hospital. Bobby kept saying demon, but Bobby saw demons everywhere. Why would a demon hang out in a hospital? It just didn't make sense. No, it had to be some kind of vengeful spirit, a really pissed off one to have enough power to hitch a ride with Dean. And the list for County General? Well, it stretched from the desecrated Civil War graveyard up to a nasty car wreck last month. So that made for literally thousands of possibilities.

Frigging perfect.

The first time Bobby's cell rang, Sam didn't notice. The second time Bobby yanked it out of his pocket like it burned. He frowned at it, meeting Sam's questioning gaze.

'Unknown' Bobby mouthed at him. He flipped the bulky cell phone open. Good grief, had Bobby bought it back in the nineties?

"Yeah?" he demanded. His eyebrows shot up. "Dean?"

Sam's hand shot out to snatch the phone away from Bobby. "Dean!" he practically shouted as he pressed it against his cheek.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was the best damned sound in the whole frigging world. Bobby rushed to his side to press an ear against the other side of the phone.

"Look, Sam, I know you don't understand any of this..." Dean began.

"Where are you?" Sam demanded. "I'll come there and we'll talk. In person," he insisted.

Dean's heavy sigh was not what Sam wanted to hear. "Sam, I just called to tell you not to look for me. It's best this way."

"What is best this way?" Sam's heart pounded painfully in his chest. What in the hell was Dean talking about?

"Oh, crap, it's waking up," Dean mumbled. "Look, I have to go. I'm sorry, Sam, but this is the way it's got to be. Take care of yourself and remember, I'm proud of ya."

Sam started to protest, but the call was disconnected. He nearly threw the phone in his frustration, but Sam checked the caller id. It had the number Dean called from. With a triumphant glance at Bobby, Sam researched the number and traced it to a motel about a three hour drive from here.

"Let's go," Bobby said as Sam scribbled down the address. "I'm drivin'."

They had been on the road for about an hour before Bobby cleared his throat. Sam dreaded the conversation which was about to take place.

"You did hear him, right?" Bobby asked. "About 'it' waking up." The older hunter gave Sam a piercing look. "Demon, Sam."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "No, Bobby. It can't be. It just can't."

Bobby sighed long and loud. "Sam, we're gonna find him. But I can't promise you'll be happy about it when we do."

Frustrated, Sam glared out the window. "Then why are we going?" Sam demanded.

Bobby snorted. "You don't think I'm gonna let that brother of yours go without a fight, do ya?"

Sam glanced over in surprise at the raw emotion in Bobby's voice. He always liked Bobby. Really.


What have you done? It demanded of its prize.

Dean sighed as he hung up the phone. "We should go," he said aloud. "Sam'll trace the call."

Why did you call?

Dean looked across the room at the mirror. Their green eyes were tinted red. He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. "To tell him not to follow us."

But you said he would trace the call, it insisted. Why would you call if you knew it would lead him here?

Dean paused, heaving a loud sigh. "I guess I just wanted to hear his voice. You know, say goodbye."

It thought this through. Perhaps this was not a bad thing. Yes, it realized, much good could come of this. Although Dean had given himself freely, it was not experienced in caring for pets. It had nearly lost him to those hunters, and Dean required other care as well.

You should eat, it told him. This time if a female touches you, you must tell me if it is a good thing.

Dean nodded silently at their reflection, a thin grin snaking across his face. "Really?" he asked.

Really. I must learn how to care for you.

Dean nodded again. "It won't be hard," he said in a reassuring tone. "I'm used to taking care of myself."

No, it replied sternly. I will care for you.

Dean shrugged. "I know how to take orders. No problem."

Reassured, it coiled itself comfortably within its new pet. It had a desire to bring all of Dean's most painful memories forth right away, but it knew this union could be good for years. It wished to save some of the juicy bits for later, when it would crave variety. Besides, for now its appetite had been sated. It felt full and lazy and perfectly willing to allow Dean to seek his own minor pleasures, such as food.


Dean drove an hour out from the motel where he had been stupid enough to call Bobby and Sam. He had known they would still be together, had been counting on it. Unsure why he had done it, Dean pulled in to a diner parking lot. There were a lot of work trucks there, which usually meant the food would be decent and reasonably priced.

Go on, the darkness encouraged him. I wish to know why this is pleasurable.

Dean sauntered in to the place. It was cafeteria style and seat yourself. After It had been about one step away from throwing a full out hissy fit over the waitress last time, this was perfect. Dean got double helpings of pot roast and all the sides, plus two, count 'em two, kinds of pie. Oh, yeah!

He found a small table against the far wall to eat. Dean settled in. Each time he took a bite, the darkness wanted to know how it was, why it tasted good, what it did for him. By the time he was only a third of the way into his meal, he told it to shut the hell up so he could freaking eat. That might have been a mistake, but it coiled up tightly deep in his gut and went quiet. Finally!

Dean managed to eat the rest of his meal in peace. As he walked out, he felt the darkness stir again.

You are satisfied? It asked.

"Sure," Dean replied. "But I got to warn ya, I prefer eating about four or five times a day, not just once."

It growled with displeasure but said nothing. Dean fired up his car and pulled out.

"Where to?" he asked, growing accustomed to taking orders from something he couldn't see.

What do you hunt? It asked him.

Dean shrugged as he pulled on to a main road. "Ghosts, spirits, werewolves, demons, you name it."

Demons? It sounded excited. You hunt demons?

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied slowly with the sinking feeling he said the wrong frigging thing. "But you knew that, right?"

I suspected, It replied. I wish to look up some old acquaintances.

Dean felt ancient names thrust in his mind, along with the places where some very old demons hung out. Very old demons who had slowed down in this millenia of their existence and who required a little comeuppance. Dean chuckled as he signaled to head for the interstate.

"A little revenge, huh? Okay, but I should warn you, normally I exorcise the bastards. What happens to you?" The idea this was a little more than just some vengeful spirit had been tugging at the edges of his consciousness for a while.

I shall be fine, It replied happily. You have given yourself freely, therefore I am protected.

"Oh." Dean shrugged and checked for oncoming traffic. "Well, learn something new every day, right?"

Now I shall teach you about the others, It told him. They deserve a slow, torturous banishment. They require punishment.

Dean nodded in reply. "Sure, no problem. Just tell me what I need to do."

The darkness squirmed in its excitement, floating up from its hiding places to settle again just beneath Dean's skin. Dean paid close attention as it whined about centuries of abuse and ridicule at the hands of these demons. Once they had been very close, before the time of The Fall. Now they squabbled like children, petty grievances dividing them. The darkness gave him the outline of a plan to exact revenge on these demons and teach them a lesson about picking on It.

You know how that feels, It said to him.

Dean shook his head. "No, not really," he admitted. It wasn't as if he could lie to the frigging thing anyway.

You know, It insisted. Pull over. I am certain you know.

Dean shrugged and pulled the car off the road. He leaned back in the seat, trying to prepare himself for a slow torture by old emotions. The darkness rapidly brought a number of memories up to examine more closely, most too fast for Dean to recognize clearly. Then it pulled away, the fleet of memories fading.

You do not know. The closest I could find was the way your father treated you, but even then you only feared losing his approval, never pain or true punishment. It shuddered, raising goosebumps down his arms.

"So are we heading out or what?" Dean asked.

The darkness slid deep within him, coiling up in a safe place. Drive. When you hunger, stop. Just take us to my revenge.

"No problem." Dean put his black beauty back in drive. He watched carefully for an opening in traffic before pulling out. After all, there was no sense in being killed on the way to a suicide mission.


It waited so patiently as its new prize, beloved pet, took them to sweet revenge. Dean stopped many times to eat, so many it had considered questioning him about it, however he felt stronger than it had known him to be. Perhaps the human had not been lying about requiring numerous meals per day. It strove to remember the proper care and feeding of its human.

Once, during a stop, a female began paying attention to Dean. She found opportunity to touch him repeatedly on the shoulders, arms and his hands. It watched, wondering why Dean would allow such an intrusion in his personal space. Their personal space. When they left, the female slipped Dean a napkin with writing on it.

What is that? It demanded the instant they were alone.

"I still got the mojo," Dean crowed as he waved the napkin through the window at the female. She giggled at him, waving back.

What is mojo? It wanted to know.

"Dude," Dean shook their head as he walked back to the car. "If I have to explain it, you don't got it."

It chose to resettle deeper within its pet, inside Dean's constant insecurities. His insecurities provided a delicious place to wait.

"Shouldn't we do some research or something?" Dean asked.

Why?

"To be sure they're still there," he said with a shrug. "I don't know, it just doesn't feel right not to do a little research."

There is no need, It assured its pet. I shall know them.

Dean shrugged again. "You're the boss."

Yes, It thought to itself. I am the boss. And the others shall know it soon as well. It coiled tighter within its pet, anxious to arrive soon.