A/N – So wow, Big Papa sorta left us reeling with his attack on Bella, not to mention the giant elephant in the room. We now know more about Bella's part in the apocalypse. Here's the aftermath. Watch out...it's a little USTY. Big snuggle hugs to Team Bean. They make this story better and talk me down from ledges when I'm ready to throw in the towel and build up my confidence. This story continues because of their never ending support and the support I get from you guys. Thank you all so much.
*Special Thanks* goes out to a reader named Jodie, Gottaloveva, and Miss Snazzy for looking out for my best interest in regards to an author that took one of my ideas and tried to pass it off as their own. It has since been remedied thanks to you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Supernatural. I only borrow the characters and setting. All ideas and plot in this story are original.
This chapter is brought to you by The Fray's song, Heaven Forbid. Visuals for the chapter can be found on my profile. Picsperation can be found on my profile.
Chapter 11 – Comfortably Numb
The three of us stood in silence as the door closed behind John. Sam shot his brother a concerned look, but Dean remained unwavering, staring at the door, lips pursed and eyes tight in an impenetrable mask.
'If he comes near her again, I'll kill him. This was not what I signed up for. Hell, who am I kidding? I never had a choice...but at least we were saving people. How am I supposed to keep her safe when the man I trusted with my life wants her dead? Dammit! This was so much easier before...before she opened my eyes.'
I watched as his hands ball into fists at his sides. 'All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam...that was his crap. He's the one that couldn't protect his family. He's the one that let Mom die.'
His lips curled around his teeth in fierce snarl. 'He wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair. I didn't deserve what he put on me...'
The clear voice I heard in my mind started to fade out as his thoughts focused on his father, and all I could feel was his pain; it was visceral and went deep into my bones. I moved in his direction, conscious of every step as my heart picked up and the steady thrum of pumping blood filled my ears. It felt like cinder blocks were tied around my ankles, keeping me in place, but I forced myself to move. I didn't know what I could say or do, but he had saved me so many times, I owed it to him to at least try. Standing inches from him, I moved my head side to side, trying to engage him and make eye contact, but his eyes were trained on the door and they were unrelenting.
"Dean?" It came out as barely a whisper. "Dean, look at me. Please," I begged.
I couldn't help but feel responsible for all this. He pulled a gun on his own father...for me. The way Sam stood up to John, I could tell their relationship was strained. Dean was the good son, never questioning, never doubting. He looked up the guy so much he wanted to be just like him. Now everything had gone to hell...because of me. How would they come back from that?
"Dean!" Sam called, trying to draw his attention.
It was like he checked out. He just kept staring at that stupid door, waiting for his father to stroll back in. I leaned my head forward, resting it against his forehead, and closed my eyes, silently praying for him to snap out of it.
I felt his warmth radiate around me as our foreheads met. Every time we had physical contact, a thrill worked its way through my body, residing deep in my belly. There was always something bigger than myself that drew me to him, whether it was the mutual heartbreak we felt or the normal progression of getting to know someone and empathizing with their pain. Regardless, I was pulled to him and I finally gave in to the need to be near him, to comfort him like he had done for me so many times before. I pushed into him slightly, our noses grazing one another.
"I'm sorry," I breathed.
He pushed back into me, letting out a long breath. Still remaining close, I inhaled deeply, taking in the same air and holding it in my chest as I slowly pulled away. I narrowed my eyes, inspecting his face and making sure he was back in the present. His eyes finally met mine and the anguish residing there hurt my insides, causing me to suck my lower lip into my mouth. I brought my hand to his face, the palm of my hand cupping his strong jaw as my thumb stroked his cheek. My skin prickled from the stubble on his face and the intimacy of the moment.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again.
"Don't," he snapped in a stern voice, jerking his neck and moving away from me, the tingling sensation disappearing with his absence. "Don't you apologize. This is not your fault." He scowled and shook his head. "This is all on him, the bastard."
I opened my mouth to speak but he pushed past me and stalked toward the door. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him.
"Dean, wait. Where are you going?" Sam asked, worried.
He turned to face me, offering me an apologetic look and rubbing the back of his neck before answering. "I gotta get outta here."
After Dean left, I found myself sitting on the bed, pushed up against the headboard with my arms wrapped around my knees. It wasn't like he rejected me...he wasn't even here, so why did I feel the need to protect myself? A deep ache festered in my gut, and I couldn't put my finger on it. Sam walked over to me and sat down on the edge of the bed. I lifted my head slightly and he gave me a sad smile.
"It'll be okay, Bella. He'll be fine."
It hit me like a flash of bright light from a light house, illuminating the dark and dangerous areas of my soul, the parts I was afraid to accept. Without realizing it, Dean had somehow managed to work himself into a piece of my heart that I thought died with Edward's departure. I was hurting because Dean was hurting.
I unwound my body and pushed my shoulders back, taking a defensive stance, feeling the hard wood press into my back. "Sam...I don't...I..."
He scooted closer to me and the corner of his eyes crinkled as a smile tugged at his lips. "Bella, you don't have to hide it from me. I know you care about him. It's not a bad thing." He pursed his lips and nodded his head knowingly. "It's good...for both of you."
I shook my head, determined to prove him wrong. I wanted to believe that Dean was just an obnoxious, pushy, close-minded, bullheaded ass. Of course I knew there was another side to him, one I saw when he held me close or protected me with such a fierceness even his father was afraid, but I wasn't ready to acknowledge the implications of his actions. I didn't want to think about the emotions that may or may not be behind them. I was okay with the strange dance we were engaged in. I wasn't prepared to deal with anything more than I already was. I had only just started to dig myself out from under Edward's grasp, his gravity that held me down until I lost myself. As Sam tried to make me see, I felt a stifling fear creep up my spine and catch in my throat. I couldn't let myself fall into that trap again.
"Look, I'm not saying you love him. Hell, you don't even have to like him...but you care about what happens to him. Dean needs that. He puts everyone before himself." Sam's eyes saddened, guilt shining through. "He doesn't think he deserves...to be happy. I mean really happy, not just this pretend, 'I love fighting demons' crap. Maybe you can finally get through to him."
I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I don't know what you think I can do. We're both pretty messed up, Sam."
Sam let out a small laugh. "Bella, our father has some issues..."
I rolled my eyes, cracking a small smile. "Gee, I hardly noticed." Sarcasm dripped from my voice.
"He really did a number on us, Dean especially. He put a lot of responsibility on him...stuff no kid should have to deal with. Dad left quite a bit to go on hunts, and he put Dean in charge. He drummed it into Dean's head that he needed to take care of me no matter what. He always put a brave face on for me, you know?" He smiled sadly, his eyes getting slightly damp. He yawned trying to pass off the tears as nothing.
I nodded, feeling more for that little boy with the freckles in the picture than I ever could have imagined. It was no secret, Dean's need to protect his brother. Actually, it was one of the first redeeming qualities I noticed. I figured protecting people was just a part of who he was. It wasn't until Sam continued, I realized it was more than just protecting people...it was protecting the people he cared about that mattered most to him. The few hunts we had been on, he was more concerned about killing the nasty than taking care of the victims. Now, somehow I was lumped into that category, and my mind spun with the possibilities.
"I think that's where it started...the blind faith he put in that man. We never knew where he was going or if he was even alive. He built him up like a goddamn hero, a five-star general in the war against evil. Dean was a good soldier and followed orders, even if he didn't realize how selfish Dad's justification really was."
Sam shifted uncomfortably next to me. "I get it, though. I mean he couldn't afford to be scared with a whiny brat like me to take care of." He smiled, laughing under his breath. "It was probably the only way he could survive. I don't know what would have happened if he had surrendered to the terror of Dad leaving, knowing that he may never come back. Dean had to trust that Dad always knew best, that he'd always come back. What other choice did he have?"
Sam let out a long sigh. "I think Dean turns a blind eye to a lot of things our father has done over the years. This whole war against evil is just a personal vendetta for him. We wouldn't even know about all the stuff that goes bump in the night if it weren't for his personal crusade of finding what killed our mother. I get it. God knows I get it. The same thing killed my girlfriend. Of course I want justice...but not at the expense of losing my family."
I looked down, feeling ashamed at my own sense of family and how easy it was for me to give it all up for Edward. John and I were sort of the same in that regard, and it made me sick. He didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted. I felt awful for what I almost put my parents through. Even if the brothers lead me to the Cullens, I didn't know if I'd be able to go through with my original plan.
Reaching out a hand, Sam brushed my cheek with his knuckles, but quickly tore it away like I was a piece of hot metal. I knew it was only meant as a friendly gesture, but I felt an odd sense of relief when he pulled away. When I looked up, Sam quickly averted his eyes.
"I guess that's why he's taking this so hard," he said sadly. "The guy you met tonight, there's a lot of my dad in there, but there's a lot that's so different. It's like the closer he gets to finally finding Yellow Eyes, the more unhinged he becomes. The minute Dad tried to hurt you..." his eyes snapped up and met mine "...it finally clicked for Dean. He knew Dad was wrong. It was like he was finally knocked off that pedestal Dean placed him on. We're supposed to be the good guys, save people because it's the right thing to do. Dean would never let him hurt an innocent person, especially not you."
I swallowed back the lump that had formed in my throat. "I am so sorry, Sam."
"I'm sorry too," he said softly.
My brows knit together in confusion. "For what?"
"I let Dean down. I left... I needed something more than this, and I think Dean felt like it was his fault because he couldn't give me what I wanted. The most important thing Dad drilled into Dean was to take care of me. I left and pretty much made that impossible. He's dedicated his whole life to hunting, to keeping me safe, and when I walked away...it was like throwing it in his face, telling him he wasn't good enough." Sam shook his head in disgust. "He gave everything up for us, and we just abandoned him. I left for Stanford and Dad left to go kill the demon on his own."
"You're allowed to have your own life, Sam. Maybe this life isn't for you..." It even sounded as funny coming out of my mouth as it did in my head. The way Sam and Dean worked in tandem, the brains and gumption...their partnership was flawless. I couldn't imagine Dean doing this without Sam.
"Don't be silly. We were born for this..." he raised an eyebrow at me "...and apparently so were you."
I looked down, blushing. Despite the nagging feeling of wanting to be needed, I still couldn't take a compliment to save myself.
Sam pushed his hands down on his thighs and got up from the bed, moving to stand in front of me. "I know Dean can be an ass, but just promise me something, Bella. Don't let him think he doesn't matter. I made that mistake once."
A few hours later, a loud scratching noise woke both Sam and me. I sat up in bed while Sam methodically reached under his pillow and pulled out his handgun, trying quietly to move the slide back to cock it. The scratching turned to a steady jingling and Sam stealthily got out of bed with the gun aimed at the door. I clutched the covers to my chest as Sam slowly opened the door. Dean stumbled into the room, barely able to stand up.
"Hiya, Sammy." He threw an arm around Sam, his dead weight dragging him down. They took a few steps, crashing into an end table and bumping into the television stand. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at me through one eye, his lips turning up into a mischievous smile. "Sweetheart..."
I watched as Dean started to sway in Sam's arms as he moved them across the room, carefully trying to avoid any other furniture. "What'd you do, man? Drink the whole bar?"
Dean let out a loud belch, his eyes rolling back in his head. His face suddenly went pale as he swallowed back a burp.
"Oh my God, Sam. He's gonna throw up."
He rushed Dean to the bathroom before it was too late, and I followed closely behind. I had seen bathroom stalls in the mall that were bigger than this bathroom. The doorway was narrow and had swinging doors that resembled that of a saloon from an old Western movie. There was a small sink a mere inches away from the toilet, and a stand up shower directly across, leaving hardly any room for one person, let alone three. Sam managed to wedge his tall frame, and his brother's solid one, into the tiny space. He winced as he crouched and maneuvered his body in an odd position to help Dean kneel down in front of the toilet. Sam's back was almost pushed into the far wall of the shower as Dean sprawled across the tile floor, hugging the toilet and heaving. Sam closed his tired eyes as he leaned his against the shower stall, a sigh of relief coming from him as the cold porcelain wall cooled his skin. He hadn't been sleeping much, maybe four hours a night in the past two days. From experience, my guess was he was afraid to sleep for too long because of his nightmares. His last one brought us to his childhood home where their mother was brutally murdered by a demon. Who knew were the next would take us?
The room was cramped and I felt bad for Sam as he tried to hide his own discomfort, pushing past his physical and mental exhaustion as he watched over Dean. I stood in the doorway, leaning against one of the swinging wood shutters. The sound of Dean's groans as the contents of his stomach spilled into the toilet bowl caused my own insides to quiver.
Sam turned to me frowning, his eyes filled with worry. "I've never seen him this drunk before. He never pukes. He'll usually just drink himself into a coma and wake up the next morning with a pounding headache. "
My mouth twisted to the side. "Maybe he's sick on top of being drunk?"
Sam sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stay awake. "Maybe." His voice was too tired to indicate whether or not he really believed that.
"Why don't you go get some rest. I can keep an eye on Dean." I eyed the tiny space and smiled at him. "Besides, I'll probably be a little more comfortable in there anyway."
He gave me an appreciative smile as he walked past me. Turning around mid-stride, he said, "Thanks."
I watched Sam walk over to his bed and make himself comfortable. Pushing through the doors, I slowly crept into the bathroom. Dean had just finished a violent bout of vomiting, so I crouched to his side and put a hand on his upper back, trying to still him as his body clenched and convulsed. He brought the back of his hand to his face to wipe his mouth.
"How you holding up?"
"Ugh..." His inability to answer and the heat radiating from his back worried me. He slowly turned to face me, beads of sweat lining his brow. His color had returned slightly, but he was flushed and feverish. I started to think maybe something was really wrong.
I quickly stood up and grabbed a washcloth from the wire shelf hanging next to the sink. I turned the water on and let it get as cold as possible before running the cloth under it. Sitting down next to him, squeezing between his muscular thighs and the base of the toilet, I placed the damp washcloth on his forehead.
He tilted his head, looking at me. "Bella." He breathed out my name, humming in approval.
"Feeling better?" I moved to pull my hand away, but he reached up and held my hand in place, his eyes clear and no longer drunk hazy. "Sam said you never get sick. Did something else happen?"
"Yeah." Dean chuckled darkly. "I got into a fight with Jack."
"Jack? Is he...is he a demon?" I continued to pat the washcloth along his forehead, up and down his neck.
Dean made a move to stand up. Still a little shaky on his feet, I guided him toward the sink so he hand something to lean against.
He looked into the small mirror, watching my face in the reflection as his lips twisted into a smirk. "Oh yeah, he's a ddd...demon alright. Went dd...down real easy..." My eyes widened as he started to tell me about the battle. "It's when he comes back up that..." his eyes darted to the toilet and then back to the mirror "...proves to be more d...difficult."
I came around to his side and pulled on his arm, turning him to face me so I could make sense of his words. "What are you talking about?"
"My man Jack Daniels." He wagged his eyes brows at me. "That sweet..." eyes lingering on my mouth, he licked his lips "...smokey amber nectar of the gods."
I huffed, narrowing my eyes at him. "So you're not sick," I seethed. "This...this is all because you had too much to drink?" Whatever sympathy or worry I had for him flew out the window. Thank God Sam was sleeping. He would have been furious at him. "How much did you actually have to drink? You know what? Don't answer that." I pushed past him and made my way to the door. "I don't even care. You're pathetic. We have bigger things to worry about than your drunk ass."
Dean whipped around so fast, faster than anyone nursing a hangover should be able to, and grabbed my wrist in his hand as I walked by. He spun me around and pushed me into the wall, his body pressing against mine as he looked down at me.
"Pathetic, huh?" His eyes darkened as a smirk worked its way onto his lips.
I tried to tear myself away from him but he pushed into me harder. Straining my neck, I was able to move my face away from his piercing gaze. I could easily scream for Sam and he'd come to my rescue. I really hoped it wouldn't come down to that. "You're drunk, Dean. Let me go."
"That's the thing, sweetheart. I drank so much I damn near gave myself alcohol poisoning, but I can still feel." He brushed his knuckles against my cheek, bringing me back to face him, and instead of shying away like I had with Sam, I leaned into his hand, savoring the feeling. "How I feel...this emptiness inside me, fighting some war I'm not sure I even believe in anymore... " His warm breath washed over my neck, causing the tiny hairs to stand on end. His voice started to break, and I turned back to see a few tears roll down his cheek. "I wish I couldn't feel anything, Bella. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."
He dropped my wrist that he had pinned against the wall and roughly pushed himself off of me. One more smoldering stare and he left me in the bathroom, alone, gathering my thoughts. I couldn't even begin to piece things together. With the hope of a shower washing away some of the intensity, I started the water. Even after the shower, my shoulders were still heavy with the burden of what Dean had said. That wasn't him; he wasn't supposed to be so...broken. Securely fastening a towel around my body, I tip-toed into the bedroom. Sam was sound asleep and Dean looked like he had passed out the minute he hit the bed. His dark brown logging boots were on his feet, still tied. I changed into an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of gray shorts and made my way over to the bed. I leaned over the foot of the bed and started to untie his boots. They fell to the floor with a loud thud, but luckily neither he nor Sam woke up. Dean just shifted his weight, settling deeper into the mattress, and let out a sleepy groan. I pulled down the blankets, even managing to slip them underneath Dean, and crawled into the bed. Tossing and turning, I tried to make myself comfortable. I fluffed the pillow, flipping it over a few times, and huffed as my head hit it. I just couldn't find any peace. I rolled on my side, propping my head up on my elbow, watching the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest. My body seemed to move on its own volition, inching closer and closer to Dean's sleeping form. Sucking in a sharp breath, I carefully eyed the crook of his neck. Slowly, I lowered my body, resting my head on his hard chest. Dean let out a content sigh, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into him tightly. The beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lulled me to sleep.
~o~
"Was it Dad?" Sam asked as Dean snapped his phone shut in frustration. He widened his eyes in anticipation. "Did he find him?"
"No, it was Bobby." Dean frowned, shaking his head.
I knew he was having a hard time with the aftermath of John's silent departure, even if he didn't want to admit it. From what Sam had told me, Dean always followed his father's orders. With the nasty things John fought on a daily basis, it was easy to see how Dean had built him up to be some kind of hero. But now, after being consumed by hate and vengeance for so long, it was clear he had lost his way. It was like he didn't even care about his own kids. He'd do anything, hurt anyone, to kill that damn yellow-eyed demon. Dean even called him on it. The fact that Dean directly disobeyed, choosing my safety over his own created an even bigger rift in their father son relationship.
Sam walked over to Dean, panic working its way to his face. "Is he...is he okay?"
"Yeah," Dean grumbled, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "Bobby's got a case for us to work."
"What about Dad?"
Dean gathered his clothes, haphazardly throwing them in his bag, and looked up at Sam. "What about Dad, Sammy?" he snapped. "He could be half across the country for all I care. If he thinks he can do this on his own...let him." He threw the duffel bag over his shoulder and stalked toward the door. "I'll be in the car."
I glanced at Sam as he shook his head and started to pack his own things away. "You sure he's going to be okay?"
He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face as he quietly processed his emotions. What I wouldn't give to be able to read his mind, and it wasn't for lack of trying.
"Yeah," he finally answered, a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes working its way onto his lips. "We'll work the case and he'll be back to himself in no time."
I followed Sam out to the car. Dean was already behind the wheel, fishing through cassette tapes. He had finally made his choice when the familiar harmonized voices started to sing, "Carry on, my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."
Sam held the trunk open for me as I placed my own bag down next to his, their arsenal hidden underneath. The delicate piano notes filtered through the speakers as the song continued. My mouth twisted into a smile, listening to the words and realizing how very Dean this song actually was.
Laughing as he shut the trunk, Sam turned to face me. "Fitting isn't it?"
Smiling wider, I nodded and hopped into the backseat.
Sam settled into the passenger seat and Dean took off. Once we found the freeway, Sam finally asked what had been on my mind since Dean took the call.
"So where's Bobby sending us?"
"Bellevue-Stratford hotel in Philadelphia," Dean answered flatly.
"The city of brotherly love," I mused, barely audible.
Dean's eyes found mine in the rear view mirror. "Except there's not much love going on, sweetheart. Thirty-four deaths in the past two weeks."
Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his analytical mind already thinking of possibilities. "What kind of deaths are we talking here? Mass-murder, illness..."
"Suicide."
I looked down, feeling guilty. After Edward left, I had thought about it but I could never really go through with it. Maybe it was cowardice or maybe it was the delusion that he'd come back for me that kept me alive. Even after spending several weeks with the Winchesters, I still wasn't any closer to finding a lead on Edward or the Cullens' location. The weight of never seeing him again wasn't as heavy a burden as it once was. I was slowly starting to let go, and it only made me think maybe it was really the self-preservation Edward had said I lacked that was starting to work its way to the surface. Maybe I never did it because deep down inside, I wanted to live.
"That's not uncommon," I piped up in a small voice. "Actually, it's the perfect place when you think about it. You're isolated, no interruptions. You don't have to worry about a family member finding you or walking in on you while you're doing it."
Dean eyes tightened in the mirror as his gazed pierced me, causing my heart to constrict. "Morbid much? Something you've given a lot of thought to, sweetheart?"
"Not anymore," I mumbled, lowering my eyes again.
Sam let out a forced cough, tearing Dean's eyes away from the mirror. "Bella's right. Take a look at Las Vegas, for instance. They're known for having the most suicides in a year. Something like twenty-seven percent of hotel visits end in suicide. Why does Bobby think this is a case for us?"
"Because it's not the first time it's happened. Thirty-four people died in 1976."
"You don't think it's just a coincidence?"
Who was I kidding? Of course it wasn't a coincidence, but something about haunted hotels just seemed incredibly cheesy to me. There was a whole show dedicated to it on the Syfy channel. A guilty pleasure, I had been sucked into a few episodes here and there. After witnessing real-life ghosts, that show couldn't have been more of a joke.
Both Sam and Dean turned around, giving me a skeptical look. That signature Dean Winchester cocky smile found its way onto his face as he raised an eyebrow at me. "When has anything we've encountered just been a coincidence?" I let out a breath, rolling my eyes. "Look on the bright side, sweetheart, no seedy motel. You can probably even get your own room."
I quickly turned away and looked out the window, hopefully hiding my disappointment. I'd have to think of a way to weasel my way into Dean's room. It wasn't that I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid of being without him, and that scared me more than any haunted hotel ever could.
E/N – *fans self* I'm still a little hot and bothered from that bathroom scene. Poor Dean has so much going on. Doesn't he know all he's got to do is open up and Bella will make it all better? How do you think Bella is going to worm her way into Dean's hotel room? I also dropped a huge hint as to how her mind-reading works. Indulge me with your theories!
Reviews are better than being pinned against the wall by Dean...nah, who am I kidding? But I'd still love to hear from you. You know the drill.
