Sorry for the delay in posting. My life's been going a little crazy lately, albeit in a good way. Thanks, as ever for reading, and for the reviews.
As Dexter choked down the rest of his crackers, he sat back in the office chair, exhausted by the meager effort, feeling ready to pass out.
"So, Dexter, you've got to be tired," Sam observed, standing as he finished his food, his chair scraping back from the table as he did so.
He put his dishes in the sink, and returned to the table, standing beside where Dexter sat.
"How about I show you where you can stay the night," he suggested, to which Dexter nodded, rolling his seat back as if to stand, but stopped as Sam protested.
"Yknow, it might be a good idea to not try that right now," Sam cautioned.
"What?" Dexter asked.
"I think he means he doesn't want to have to go to the trouble of scraping you up off the floor again,"Dean declared bluntly.
"Oh, yeah..." Dexter muttered, sitting back, letting Sam maneuver his chair away from the table.
They made their way out of the kitchen, Sam propelling him with long, even strides, through a room full of antique-looking office furniture and bookshelves. Green glass desk lamps gave it the air of an old library.
"What is this place?" Dexter asked.
"This? This is sort of the office, library, whatever you want to call it. Point is, these books are full of lore." Sam explained.
"Lore?" His tone betrayed his confusion.
"Yeah, folklore, makes great research material to find out about the monsters we deal with."
Dexter nodded, intrigue filling his mind. So many books….there were enough monster to fill this entire library, he wondered absently.
So very many deserving targets, so many potential kills…. A little pang of delight penetrated the dullness of his fatigue, his mouth twisting into a small smile.
"What?" Sam asked, noticing his change in expression.
"Oh, I just love to research is all. And…that's pretty damn amazing. There's that many monsters," Dexter replied, his usually sharp mind struggling to scrape together what he hoped was a remotely believable lie.
"Heh," Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I guess amazing is one word for it. Or, yknow, sucky. There's a hell of a lot of crap out there that wants to kill us, that's for sure."
"Us?" Dexter asked, puzzlement tingeing his voice as he was too tired to try to puzzle it out himself, let alone hold back his emotion.
"Yeah, us, hunters. I mean…if you're going to be a hunter, they're going to be after you too. And you're going to have to get to them first." Sam clarified.
"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried about me," Dexter mumbled, suppressing a yawn.
"OK, then," Sam said, chuckling as they paused at a door, which Sam opened to reveal a bedroom. "This is it. Bed's made…hopefully not too much crap lying around in there. We haven't been in here in a while since K…" He trailed off momentarily, voice growing grim before continuing, "Well, anyways. Yell if you need anything. We're right up the hall."
Dexter grunted, "Thanks," standing feebly from the chair, he made his way over to the bed, leaning on the wall as he walked, where he lay down promptly.
"Well, see you in the morning." Dexter called.
Sam sighed, flipping off the lights.
He couldn't help the sense of dismalness that permeated it. The bitter knowledge, the guilt, the blank spots in his memory of what had happened, what a being occupying his body had done to the boy that had once slept in that room had seared themselves into his mind. The significance was that of what wasn't there. And he knew why. Even now, so many months later, with far more important matters at hand, it chilled him enough to make him hate walking by it. And he couldn't help hating himself for it, either.
He shook himself, trying to clear the rambling of guilty voices inside his head. Not now, he told himself. Maybe when there's time, he assuaged his conscience. But…probably not ever, he acknowledged the possibility vaguely, all the while trying to brush it aside.
He made his way back up the hall, through the office to the kitchen, where Dean sat, now drinking a beer.
"So," he called as Sam took a seat across from him. "You got Vamp Boy squared away?"
"Dexter," Sam mumbled, correcting him.
"Huh?" Dean grunted, making a face that said what he didn't verbalize, 'dude, would it kill you to lighten up?'
"His name's Dexter. And, yeah. I think so." He replied, this time louder, rolling his eyes. Dean was being so typical... so Dean, he decided.
"And you're really buying into all that make me a hunter crap?" Dean's tone now was mocking as he sat back, putting his feet up on the table.
"I dunno. I mean, he seems kind of out of it. If he still thinks like that in the morning, then...yeah, I guess. Other wise, though, it's probably just the cure talking..." Sam trailed off, shaking his head. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
With that, he stood, his chair scooting back from the table as he did so, and began to make his way out of the kitchen.
"Eh," Dean muttered in reply, "Seeya."
Sam merely nodded, wordless, in reply as he continued up the hall toward his room.
…
The next thing Dexter was aware of was the overwhelming hunger that was burning its way through his insides. He sat bolt upright from where he was lying, eyes flying open, to see only darkness punctuated by strips of glow in the dark safety around the edges of the room. Where the hell am I, he wondered as the previous days came flooding back to him, giving him the distinct sensation of waking up to a real nightmare.
"Oh, shit" he groaned to himself. "This is for real..."
For real, he thought, the other facts of this strange world he'd so recently become immersed in returning to him.
Monsters…monsters are real, he realized all over again, a little surge of adrenaline pouring through him. And that means hundreds, thousands, of deserving targets….
He smiled to himself as he stood from the bed he'd been lying on, groping through darkness to the wall where he found the switch.
Looking down as light flooded his senses, he realized he still wore his boots, jeans, jacket. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to shower, get out of the days-old dirty clothing, which he was now aware were stained with sweat, blood and grime.
And wear what, though, he realized. He had nothing else with him…
Sighing, seeing nothing else to do, he opened the door, stepping out into the hall.
"Hello?" He called, voice echoing in the empty passageway. Shrugging, he made his way back up the corridoor toward the library, his movements weak and shaky from lack of food.
He paused, despite the gnawing hunger that propelled him to look at the strange many-pointed star symbol painted on the ceiling, glaring at it as if to try to figure out what it was.
"Oh, you're awake, and up," a voice said, startling him to look back across the room toward the kitchen, where he saw Sam.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm starving. But, what is that thing?" He motioned toward the ceiling
"That? It's a devil's trap," Sam replied.
"Devil? Like, honest to god, real life demons?" Dexter asked, his brow wrinkling in disbelief.
"Yeah. Real demons. There's a lot for you to learn about the monsters out there. But not right now. We're just fixing some breakfast. You can have some if you want." Sam gestured toward the kitchen. Dexter nodded eagerly, replying,"Hell yeah," as he continued toward the kitchen.
"Y'know," Dean cut in, expression devilish. If his tone had been any more teasing, he'd have to have been nearly singing 'I know something you don't know.'
"Know what?" Dexter asked, shaking his head.
"It's a real place. Not just some fairy tale bullshit."Dean grinned as he spoke, as if something was funny.
"Hell?" Dexter scoffed, not making no effort to hide his disbelief. What the fuck is with these guys, he wondered.
"Yeah. Hell. And so's heaven. And Purgatory. And…well who the fuck knows what else. There's other universes too. In fact…."Dean looked pointedly at Sam. "Think we should tell him?" He muttered in a low voice, although Dexter could still hear.
"Yeah, don't see why not," Sam replied, shrugging as he trailed off, breaking eggs into a bowl, which he then stirred bits of onion and ham into.
"Tell me what?" Dexter's voice shattered the lull in conversation, breaking up the quiet rhythm of the boys cooking.
"You're not from here." Sam answered, his words leaving Dexter almost as mystified as before.
"Here? Where is here? You never told me—" He protested, shaking his head. Couldn't they just tell it to him straight, he wondered, for once?
"Not where we are now in the bunker, moron. You aren't even from this universe," Dean announced caustically, turning away from the counter to watch his reaction with what appeared to be satisfaction.
"Wait, what?" Dexter muttered, his voice and face twisting with the incredulity and shock that wracked him.
"Universes, right?" Dean said, rolling his eyes with impatience. "It's like a bunch of cars in a parking lot. The cars are the universes, our universe is one, yours is another, and somehow, you found your way through a hole in yours to ours. Don't ask me how. It's all metaphysics and crap I don't pretend to understand, but. Yeah…"He trailed off, turning back to the stove as he allowed what he'd said to sink in, which clearly wasn't happening terribly fast, as Dexter was simply sitting, staring slack-jawed, expression blank.
"But….how would you know that? How…." Dexter sputtered, his gut sinking as he considered the possibility. But, it would fit, he thought, shrinking from the magnitude of the suggestion. It can't be. Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? Paralell universes? No, but, then again, he realized, with a pang of clarity, it wasn't as if impossible seemed to mean much lately. I did just turn back from a vampire, he realized. Maybe...just maybe, they're not shitting...