Deanzilla vs. Hydros: This Time It's Very, Very Personal (cont.)
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
A/N: This chapter has a TON of exposition at the beginning, just to warn you. But the action picks up again at the end, just before a particularly evil cliffie. You've been warned. A heapin' hunk of thanks to Katiki for her patience and her always amazing beta work. Off we go!
Chapter Fourteen: Details Shmetails
Michelle braces herself for the inevitable outrage, but no one says a word. She looks at them each in turn. Tyler is frightened, Sam is stormy, Owen is curious, Dean is bewildered, and Bobby is cute. Well, he's frowning, but even his frown is cute to Meesh. She decides to address him with her follow-up question. "Well? Doesn't anyone want to tell me I'm crazy or evil or sick?"
"You're not really gonna kill him," Bobby replies. "I think we all know that. But I'd start explaining yourself before some of us start to wonder anyway." He gives Sam a long, pointed look, reassuring him and warning him not to freak out at the same time. Sam just folds his arms and shifts his weight. Bobby turns back to Michelle and nods at her to go on.
"All right. You might want to sit down for this. I've got to cover some history first." They all sit down in a circle. Then a big shadow falls over them all: Dean is standing over them and looking a bit like the last kid called to play kickball.
"Make room you guys!" Tyler yells at them. They all slide over, widening part of the circle until there's room enough for Dean to join them. Then Tyler pats the ground next to him. "Sit by me, Dean!"
Dean sits down as carefully as he can, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as his enormous legs fold and cross. Once he's down, his bare feet are just millimeters (to him) away from Tyler's beaming smile to his left and Owen's shaking shoulders to his right. Dean throws him a look of 'really?' and Owen replies, "Sorry, it's just with you…ALL of you…up close like this, it's just a bit overwhelming is all…"
Sam waits for Dean's smartass reply, but it never comes: Dean keeps his chin down, and the huge green eyes flit up and lock on Michelle. And it occurs to Sam that Dean hasn't said a single word since he snuck back into the room. No, before that—since we were taken away, Sam realizes. He looks up at his very big brother, worried. What's going on up there, Dean?
Michelle clears her throat and begins her story.
"This joint is known only as Project Spire, and it's so top top TOP top secret even the folks at Area 51 and the President himself don't know about it. I can tell you that this place didn't start out as a torture chamber for giants. Roughly ten years ago, it was actually a place of research. Some of the best and brightest in science and medicine came here to study the supernatural. With a big grant from a private firm, they hired some hunters to capture supernatural creatures."
"Never called me," Bobby huffs, seeing the same reaction in Sam and Dean. "I've never even heard about this, and trust me, sugar—I hear about pretty much everything."
"So it's 'sugar' now," Michelle smiles, fluttering her eyelashes. Bobby's face remains hard, but his cheeks go bright pink, making Michelle smile even more. "I'm sure the hunters were paid to keep their mouths shut. But that was before my time. I only know what I've been told and what little intel I've been able to scrounge up over the years."
"What have they studied over the years?" Owen asks as he pushes his glasses up his nose.
Michelle shrugs. "Vampires, werewolves, spirits, zombies, banshees, dragons, djinns, pixies, rawheads, onis, ghouls, goblins—"
"Demons?" Sam asks, glancing up at his brother, who looks just as darkly curious. Michelle shakes her head.
"No demons. Hunters refused to bring them here. But they made some stunning discoveries from all the other creatures, and some had practical uses, like the Lycan healing enzyme. One of their biggest breakthroughs was the invisibility device they adapted from rakshasas. Turns out they don't actually vanish—they just have a supremely good chameleon effect."
"Let me guess," Sam says, "that's when the Department of Defense got interested."
"Actually it was the discovery of the vamp adrenaline that got the government knocking on the front door. No idea how they ever heard about this place, but they were VERY interested in what the findings could do to help the modern soldier. Seemingly overnight, this place turned from research as Priority One to engineering and experimentation. Most of the original scientists refused to experiment on people, even volunteers, so they were all handed pink slips and kicked out. The military started hiring from within. That's how I wound up here. I've got degrees in medicine and psychology, and I'd been working at different bases for nearly 20 years by the time they contacted me about my transfer. They wouldn't tell me anything about where I was going—only that my skills would be challenged to their very limits." She grins. "I never turn down a challenge…
"I arrived here about five years ago. Didn't know one thing about the supernatural, only that most of it was bullshit. Course I accepted the truth by the end of the first day. Hard not to after a poltergeist makes you its bitch for one long afternoon." She makes a face at the memory. "So I helped out on various projects, getting more and more involved as they started bringing in volunteer soldiers for various experiments. It was three years ago that the Giant Program started. The military thought it would behoove us to try and make a bigger, stronger soldier. So we gave the first few volunteers different combinations of injections and hormones. Giant Number 4 gave us our best results at the time, reaching a maximum height of 12 feet and keeping that height for six-hour periods. But that wasn't good enough for what the military had in mind. They wanted bigger men and a minimum 24-hour size-retention period. So we started experimenting with more dangerous concoctions. The volunteers experienced more growth, but the bigger they got, the more pain they were in. Poor Aaron—he was Number 7…one day he shot up to nearly twenty-five feet, and his knees broke. Both of them just…shattered from the weight. He didn't walk again for months. And I was partly to blame for that."
Michelle takes a pause, gathering up her emotions and tucking them away before she speaks again. "I spoke to all the higher-ups about what happened and told them that we had to stop pushing these men so far. They disagreed and told me that the volunteers were just weak. Can you believe that? Their own soldiers, weak. I called bullshit, and they told me to fall in line. So I quit, told them where to go, and turned to leave. They brought in the new volunteer as I headed for the door." She swallows hard. "Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with my own son."
Everyone shifts, uncomfortable, and Michelle has to gather herself again. "Jeremy did everything his dad did, including lying about his age to enlist in the army early. I was scared he was going to die in combat, just like my Nathan did when Jeremy was younger." She shakes her head. "His volunteering for the research program took out the combat fear, but I knew he was bound to suffer. I tried to talk him out of it, but he's stubborn and thrives on challenges, just like his mom. He told me he'd be fine, told me not to worry." She laughs, bitter. "Yeah, Mom not worrying—like that was going to happen. But what could I do? He'd signed the papers and was eager to prove me wrong.
"So Jeremy became Giant Number 8. He also became the first one to be injected with hydros venom. Our team leader wanted to try something new, and my son was to be the guinea pig. Took them a long time to figure out that small amounts of hydros venom only make a person swell up. Jeremy's hands at one point were each this big." She holds her hands out about three feet apart. "Had to be spoon-fed for a week, both hands kept in traction to keep the blood flowing to them…" She gives a small smile. "But he took it all in stride, you know? Never complained once about the discomfort or the weirdness." Michelle looks right up at Dean and adds, "I wish he would have. Things might have gone much easier for him."
She sighs. "Anyway, it wasn't long after that they tried a combination of hydros venom and a growth accelerant we had developed. Results were instantaneous: Jeremy shot up like a firework right before our eyes, 6'1" to 35'8" in ten seconds." Michelle pulls an old, folded photograph out of her doctor coat pocket and hands it to Sam. "As you can see, he was thrilled." The picture shows Michelle standing in front of a huge, smiling young man in very tattered green army fatigues, who is down on one knee behind her and has his big hand resting over her right side. "Things were good for a while. The new formula held steady for three days. The instant Jeremy started reverting, they'd shoot him up again, and he'd grow a few feet more. Each time the new growth would last longer than the time before. It looked like we'd finally had the breakthrough we needed." She shuts her eyes. "God were we wrong…
"A little over a week after Jeremy's first successful growth, I went down to join him for dinner, as I did every night. Jeremy was about as big as you are now, Dean, and he was in the corner of the room, all curled up and shivering. I asked him what was wrong. He looked down at me and said, 'Mom, I'm sorry.' He picked me up and hugged me against his chest, apologizing over and over. And that's when I heard his ragged heartbeat. I asked him if he was in any pain. He clamped his eyes shut, shook his head no, but said, 'Yes, Mom. It hurts everywhere. But don't tell anyone, okay?'" Michelle looks at Bobby. "He actually thought that by being in pain, he was letting everyone down."
"Hmm, wonder why that sounds so familiar," Bobby mutters, glancing up at Dean. Dean says nothing, just keeps his eyes fixed on Michelle. She's fighting tears now, and they all wait patiently for her to continue.
"I'd been monitoring him the whole time—I'm his doctor AND his mother, dammit. And yet I'd never thought to check…" She swipes a tear away with the back of her fist. "He said he was fine! Every time I asked him if anything hurt, he'd say no. And now he was in shock, heartbeat erratic, panting…after I got him comfortable, we ran some tests, and..." Her voice trails off, filled with emotion, and she wipes away more tears. "My son now had the body of an 80-year-old man. Didn't matter how huge and strong he was on the outside—inside, his bones had become brittle. Six of his toes were broken, and one of his ribs had fractured from the weight of his lungs and liver. Every joint suffered muscle tear, his blood pressure was through the roof, and his heart was under so much stress, it was a miracle he hadn't suffered an attack yet."
"So the formula had exaggerated his growth process, but internally, it had sped up his aging process," Owen sums up. "Fascinating." Everyone glares at him. "Well not fascinating in a good way, give over! I've never heard of that in any hydros case is all. It must have been the formula…mutated it somehow. What happened next?"
"I ordered him to immediate bed rest and brought up my findings to the rest of the team. They decided to give him another injection first thing in the morning." She nods at their dropped jaws. "Now that they considered him 'faulty,' they wanted to treat him as a lab rat and inject him over and over to see just how much of the formula and its side effects his body would take before it shut down. They were going to KILL MY SON." Her face becomes hard. "So I decided to kill him first.
"That very night, I snuck into his room and woke him up to explain my plan. He didn't want to go along with it: still felt like the army needed him to be his best, no matter what. I told him that dying for your country is one thing, but being murdered is quite another." Bobby puts a hand on her shoulder, and Michelle looks to him with her thanks. "My plan was simple: I'd inject him with a sleep inoculation that we'd adapted from djinn blood. It would put Jeremy into such a deep sleep that for all purposes, he'd appear dead. Then once they brought him back up to the main floor to examine his body, I'd revive him and we'd both escape. They didn't have the enormous recovery team then as they do now."
"Did it work?" Tyler asks, looking concerned. "Was Jeremy okay?"
"Plan went off without a hitch," Michelle smiles. "Got up there, revived him, he jumped over the doctors, grabbed me, and smashed through the front door and out to freedom. Even with all the pain he was in, the broken toes and torn muscles and everything, he just kept running. I yelled at him to take a break, but he insisted he had to put enough distance between us and them. He finally stopped at dusk, when we'd reached a small lake. He set me down, and in between huge gasps for air, he started apologizing again—this time for not believing in ME. He told me that he'd volunteered for the program because the recruiter told him I was suffering from severe depression, and that maybe if Jeremy came and worked with me, he'd make his poor mother happier. I asked him who the asshole was, so I could introduce my boot to his ass. He said he never got the name…just that the guy never took off his sunglasses."
"Holy shit," Sam says, "HIM?"
"Him. He was also there when they tried to recapture Jeremy. Came late that night. Jeremy was asleep, but there was such a bright, full moon out that I couldn't keep my eyes shut. And then the light went out. I heard a roar of noise, and a swarm of helicopters buzzed in over our heads. Jeremy was up at once and grabbing them, bringing them down, but there were too many. I told him to run. He grabbed for me, but I jumped out of the way—told him to leave me there, that they wanted me more than him, because I knew everything about the program. They started shooting, and he finally turned and ran. Shady Guy came up behind me and led me back to an awaiting chopper. He told me I was stupid, that they'd recapture my son in no time." She frowns and narrows her eyes. "They always underestimate us. It's been two-and-a-half years since Jeremy's escape, and they never caught him." Her eyes and chin drop as she adds, "Of course, I haven't seen him since then, either. No word. He might be dead for all I know, though my heart tells me otherwise…"
Sam turns to her. "So what that asshole said before—do you think he's telling the truth? Do they actually know where Jeremy is?"
"I don't know. I hope not. But I've played along with them all these years just to keep him safe. They think they're using him to keep me in line, but I've been playing them the whole time, gathering intel right under their noses. I could leave right now and expose them to the world if I wanted. I've only stayed because SOMEone had to remind the scientists that our giants are still people." She gives Dean a sad smile. "But I'm just one person. My say-so only goes so far. That's why we have to get Dean out of here, before he becomes their next study victim."
"Victim?" Bobby repeats. Michelle turns to him and looks him in the nose instead of the eyes.
"Every giant since Jeremy has died here," she replies quietly. "I did my best to take care of them, keep them healthy and well, but the scientists always get greedy and keep injecting them. Dean certainly isn't the biggest man we've seen around here. Lucas, giant number 15, grew to 108 feet before he succumbed to gravity and the formula's side effects." She looks up at Dean again. "That's why you're such an interest to them, Dean. Your insides, as far as we can tell, are healthy and normal, adapting to your growth with ease. It's only your heart and lungs that are still suffering from your new physical weight. There is no way they will let you go until they figure out how to replicate it, and to do that, they'll put you through endless, excruciating tests. I won't let that happen again. I can't. I'd rather die than see you go through that pain."
"So you want to 'kill' Dean instead," Owen concludes. "Do what you did with your son."
"Won't they be expectin' that?" Bobby asks. "You already did it once."
"That's where Owen comes in. If he can create a magical concoction that has the same effects as my inoculation, they won't be able to detect it in his blood. Science can only go so far with magic, after all."
Owen grabs his rucksack and swings it in front of him. "I can whip up a batch of Death's Kiss. It's the so-called potion they alluded to in Romeo and Juliet, only this is the dog's bollocks: all the effect without the high drama."
"How long will it last?"
"30 minutes at most, given Dean's size. I'd need a lot more to make a longer-lasting dose, and my kit only holds so much of everything." He starts pulling various bags and bottles out of the rucksack. "It'll take me about as long to prepare it." Owen stands up to leave, but Sam stands up too and grabs his arm.
"Whoa, hold on," Sam says, turning Owen back around. "Can we just stop and think about this for more than a second?" Sam looks back at Michelle. "Things are a lot different now than when your son was here. You said yourself that they didn't have the military force then that they do now—how the hell will we all escape if we get Dean out of here?"
"And that's a big 'if,' you hafta admit," Bobby agrees, standing as well. "We don't even know if the potion will work. No offense, Owen."
Owen shrugs. "None taken. But think on this: these people have been after me for years now. They know what I can do."
"Exactly," Sam says, "they KNOW you. Even if they can't detect the magic you'll use, how do you know they won't suspect you were involved?"
"Because they won't see him performing the magic," Michelle answers. "One, there are no cameras or bugs in this room, and there are guards at the door that never saw us come in and won't see us go out. Two, you, Owen, Bobby and I will all be out of this room when Dean 'succumbs,'" she says, making the quotey fingers. "Well, not out-out. I'll be out, you, Sam will be invisible…Owen and Bobby, you'll have to hide…don't think we can risk all of us sneaking out at the same time…"
"What about me?" Tyler asks. Michelle looks at the little boy and smiles.
"You have the most important role of all. Do you still have the emergency button I gave you?"
"Yup, right here!" he smiles, pulling it out of his pocket.
"Good. Once Dean is out, I want you to press it over and over. My warning beeper will go off, and I can come back in the room and pretend to be surprised and upset. The guards will think I'm learning about it at the same time that they are."
Sam still looks unsure. "This all seems way too easy," he remarks. "And when things seem easy, it usually means we overlooked something."
"Too many things that can go wrong," Bobby adds. "Dean might wake up early, or never be fully put out. We could be captured, and then we won't be with you, Tyler, and Dean when it's time for the great escape. And then there's that new chip in his neck."
Michelle replies, "They'll take that out before they begin the autopsy."
"Autopsy?!" Sam and Bobby shout. Michelle waves her hands to clear the air of their outrage.
"Dean will revive before they cut him open. I know the post-mortem process—I've seen it enough over the years. They keep the implants for their records, so I'm sure they'll remove his neck chip when they remove his hand implant."
"But what if they don't?" Sam challenges. "What if they keep that in, Dean wakes up, we all make a break for it, and he gets paralyzed before we get to the door? Or what if Dean doesn't revive at all? What if WE can't get him to wake up? What if they call our bluff and lock us all up and put Dean in solitary confinement or something? What if—"
"I say we go for it."
Everyone looks up at Dean, who has finally spoken up. His face is thoughtful, his eyes clear. Sam can't believe what he heard. "But Dean…this is the Swiss cheese of escape plans. Way too many holes. We should think of something else."
"We don't have time," Dean answers. "The way I see it, I can either risk dying while trying to escape, or wait around here till their tests or my own body kills me. Think I'll take Door Number One, if it's all the same to you. Just one question, Meesh" The big greens go to the doctor. "That dick in sunglasses said we're hundreds of feet underground. So how the hell do I get up to the main level?"
"This room is also an elevator," she explains. "Once you were captured, they loaded you inside, and the room dropped down to the Giant Containment Level. Once your implant detects that you're dead, the room will automatically rise back up to the main floor."
"A moving room," Dean smirks. "Very Cube." No one gets the movie reference. "Oh come on! This room is…green." Blank faces blink up at him, so with an eye roll, Dean stands up, steps over the little circle of friends, and lowers himself back to the ground. Once he's lying down on his stomach, he readies himself with a deep breath and starts doing push-ups.
"What are you doing?" Sam asks loudly.
"What's it look like?" Dean answers. "Gotta get ready to run, and I haven't done my exercises since I got here." He looks over at Owen and nods at him. "Get mixing, man. Bobby, help Tyler finish fixing my baby's door. No way I'm leaving her behind. And Sam," Dean pauses at the top of a push-up and smiles back at his little brother, "work with Meesh and start filling in some of those holes. We go in smart—"
"Or we don't go in at all," Sam recites. "Yeah, I know." Dean grins at him, and Sam turns away. Doesn't make this plan any less insane…
"Hey, you don't have…to like it, Sammy," Dean calls, seemingly reading his brother's mind as he keeps pushing his body up and down, "but let's…face it: this…is our best shot…and we're taking it. Don't make me…put you back…in my pocket…for the ride."
Bobby gives Sam a bent eyebrow and a smirk at that, and Tyler pouts, "Aww, I wanna ride in his pocket." Dean's huge hand appears over Tyler, and the giant fingers scoop the boy up and set Tyler on top of Dean's head as he continues his push-ups. Tyler whoops and hollers like he's on an enormous bronco, and everyone smiles. Then Michelle's hand comes over Sam's shoulder, and she gently pulls at him to turn around. He looks down at her and locks onto her eyes.
"Tell me this is going to work," he both asks and demands.
"It has to," she replies in earnest. Sam's face fills with worry, and she pats him on the arm. "Come on, Sam. Let's do our best to make sure Dean gets out of here, safe and sound."
They sit down in the shadow of the giant cot and get to work.
Roughly half an hour later, everyone knows their part of the plan. As Owen goes through the final steps on the potion, Bobby and Michelle are by the Impala, rearranging the weapons in the trunk to make room for a hiding spot. Sam is there too, though his eyes are on the mammoth foot that stomps down a few feet in front of him. Dean has been jogging laps for the past five minutes, with Tyler holding onto Dean's shirt collar and having the ride of his life. Tyler keeps squealing for Dean to run faster, but Dean has kept his pace steady. Sam knows it's both for Tyler's protection as well as Dean's—he has to save his strength for the actual escape.
If we get to that part, Sam thinks. He still has misgivings about this plan. Sure, he and Michelle have gone through every last detail with a fine-tooth comb, but there's still so much risk involved. Most of this plan is completely out of our control. I HATE that. The dark energy deep inside him starts to flare up. This isn't going in smart, it's just going in and hoping for the best! Never should have let him get captured…well fine, it's not my fault he got captured—he never should've gone back for the Impala. And okay, so he got it cos I flipped the truck. Why did I take that curve so fast? Dammit, it IS all my fault! He was depending on me, and I screwed up! Why the hell can't I do anything right anymore?!
Sam's torn from his raging thoughts by a noise—or rather, a lack of noise. It's far too quiet. Ire and energy die down the moment Sam notices that Dean has stopped running and is looking at him from across the room. Sam turns away and pretends he doesn't hear the huge footsteps coming closer.
"So are we all ready here?" Sam asks Bobby. No sooner are his words out than the car and everyone around it is draped in shadow. Tyler is gently set down with one hand, while the other grabs Sam by the scruff of his shirt and jacket and pulls him skyward.
"Need to borrow my brother for a second," Dean tells them all as he cups Sam between his hands and turns away. Sam's muffled protests come from behind the finger walls, but Dean ignores him. He carries him into the shower alcove, shuts the door, steps around his newly laundered clothes on the floor, and sets Sam down on the towel rack. Then Dean looks at him. Sam looks right back, waiting for Dean to say what's on his mind, but Dean just keeps studying him.
"What?" Sam asks at last.
"I don't know, you tell me."
Sam scoffs, annoyed, but Dean just lifts his eyebrows, waiting. "I don't like this plan," Sam admits at last. "It's like someone's blindfolded us, shoved us into a maze, and told us to find our way out."
"Yeah, there's risk," Dean agrees. "But c'mon, Sam, there's always risk in our plans."
"This isn't the normal kind of risk, Dean—that's just the problem! We know what we're up against when we're hunting demons and vampires, but this? Secret military base, you being a giant, trusting some magical potion to work just like that…" Sam sighs. "Someone's going to get hurt. Maybe all of us."
"That's why you have to promise me something." Dean puts a hand on the wall next to the towel rack and leans his face closer to Sam. "If this plan goes south and something happens to me, you have to get everyone out."
"No, Dean—"
"It's not a request. Let's face it—I'm the biggest liability here. If I don't wake up, or if I can't keep going, you have to get everyone out of here. Tyler needs to get home to his parents, Meesh needs to find her son, Owen has to get a head start on these guys, and you and Bobby need to disappear."
Sam shakes his head no. "We're not going to just leave you here, Dean!"
"Yes you are," Dean orders him. Sam's entire world is made up of two giant, commanding green eyes, staring their will into him. But Sam doesn't back down. Instead, he stands up on the towel rack and nods like he's realizing something, throwing Dean a very serious smile as he does so.
"So we're back to that, huh?" Sam snaps. Dean looks confused, so Sam adds, "You ordering me to live my life, keep going, don't worry about what happens to you. Just like you expected me to when you were dragged off to Hell." Sam shakes his head again, face turning red with anger. "Now you're in this new Hell. You really think I'm just gonna leave you here? Just give up and turn away and forget about you?" A tear escapes Sam's eye, and he swipes it away with his sleeve. "Dammit Dean, I'm NOT losing you again, you hear me? I'm not going back to worrying about you every second of every day, thoughts running wild with pictures of you being tortured. That isn't living, Dean—that's MY torture. I can't let you suffer for me again. I WON'T." Sam glares at Dean with everything he's got, and the giant recoils and steps back. Those once-commanding green eyes now gaze at Sam with trepidation, as if they can't believe it's really Sam before them. Dean blinks and gulps.
"Sammy…"
"Don't," Sam points at him. "If you want me to stay positive about this stupid plan, then you have to stay positive about getting out of here with the rest of us. Capiche?"
Dean gives a small smirk. "Respect your authoritah." Sam stands stoic, and Dean nods, thinking it over. His face becomes serious again and he says, "Fine. Just make sure you do your best to get ALL of us out safe and sound, not just me. That means you can't stay behind either. No martyrs today." It's Dean's turn to glare now. "Capiche?" Sam nods in turn. "All right." Dean holds out his palm, and Sam steps on to it. "Go check on Owen."
Sam gets lowered to the floor, and as he steps off Dean's hand, he looks way, way up at his brother. "What are you going to do?"
Dean pulls his white t-shirt off. "Change back into my regular clothes, if that's all right with you. Why, you want to watch?" Dean wriggles his eyebrows, and Sam throws him a bitchface. As Sam turns to leave, he spots the amulet, still residing in the corner near the alcove's door. His remaining anger goes cold as he remembers how it ended up there.
"Dean…look, about what I said earlier…"
Dean holds his hand up to shush him. "One Hallmark moment at a time, Sammy." Dean reaches over Sam's head, snags his amulet off the floor, and puts it back around his neck, where it belongs. He looks down at it and gives a single nod, almost proud, and then looks at Sam, letting the warmth in his big eyes do the talking. Sam takes a deep breath through his nose and nods in reply. Then Dean reaches over him again, grabs his boots, and gently shuts the door on his tiny brother.
When Dean emerges a few minutes later, Sam is still right there by the door. Dean looks down at him. "What, you forget how to walk?" Sam looks up, puppy dog eyes out in full force. Dean rolls his eyes, bends over, and holds his hand out to Sam. "Do not get used to this," Dean grumbles as Sam steps on. "I'm not the bus."
"I know," Sam returns. "The bus is a much smoother ride, and it never complains."
Sam promptly gets dumped in Dean's front jeans pocket. He smirks when he hears Sam's annoyed yells. He full-on grins when he hears Sam complain about a hole…and what he can see through said hole.
"So," Dean says as he joins the others. "We ready to get this show on the road?"
"Juuust about," Michelle replies as she carefully removes Bobby's implant from his hand. Coaxing it out as she would a sliver, she then pulls it the rest of the way with a tweezer and sets his down next to the implants she'd removed from Owen and Sam ten minutes ago. She puts a small bandage over Bobby's cut, and Bobby twitches from the contact sting. "Aww, want me to kiss it better?" she flirts. Bobby glares at her—but doesn't pull his hand away. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek instead. Then she pockets the removed implants and turns around to face the others.
"All right. Your implants will go dead any second, and the people upstairs will believe you've figured out how to remove them. I'm keeping my implant active, as well as Tyler's and Dean's, so they don't suspect that we had anything to do with it. Are we ready?" Everyone nods (Tyler twice as fast and confident as anyone else), and Owen steps forward.
"Et voila." He shows them all a vial filled with purple liquid. Dean takes a death-glaring, arms-crossed, red-faced Sam out of his pocket and sets him down, then gently takes the teeny-tiny vial from Owen. Dean holds it up close to his eyes and looks it over. "Trust me, it's enough," Owen tells him. "That little amount would be enough to put 5 men in permanent comas. But for you, it'll be just right."
"How long will it take to kick in?"
"Seconds only. Make sure you're not standing near anything you don't want to crush." Dean promptly moves away from them all.
"Still don't see why he has to stand up," Sam murmurs, still pissed off and trying to stay pissed off despite how concerned he is for his asshole brother who just put him in his pants pocket complete with a hole open to his galaxy-sized 'area.'
"For authenticity," Michelle answers. "They'll see right through it if he tries to position himself on the floor. We have to make sure everything about Dean's placement and condition coincides with Tyler's story." She looks down at Tyler now. "You know what you have to say, right?"
"He knows," Bobby smiles, ruffling the kid's hair. "Even answered every question I threw at him. We're good to go."
Michelle and Sam both nod and look at each other. "All right," says Michelle. "Give me exactly seven minutes before you swallow that stuff, Dean. I need to be far enough away before Tyler presses the emergency button." Dean nods, and Michelle waves at him to come down. He crouches down, and she stands on tiptoe and kisses him on the chin. "For luck," she says. "I'm a mom. I have to do stuff like that."
Dean smiles. "Thanks, Meesh. For everything. Be careful, all right?"
"You too, sweetie. I'll see you real soon." Then she turns and gives Sam a big hug. "He's going to be fine," she whispers in his ear. "He's got you to look after him." Sam gives her an extra squeeze for that. Finally, Michelle runs over to Bobby and pulls him into what can only be described as a super smooch, pushing so hard into his face that Bobby starts to bend backward. When she finally breaks away, Michelle gives him a huge smile. "There'd better be a date coming up." Bobby watches after her as she runs over to the clothing cart and jumps up behind one of the back wheels.
"Damn right there'll be a date," he says to himself. Both Sam and Dean catch it and give each other amused looks.
"Hit it!" Michelle calls. Dean gently inches the cart up to the wall, and the moment it makes contact, the long, flat panel opens, and the cart is pulled forward. Once the panel shuts, Bobby and Owen climb into the Impala's trunk. Sam walks up to them and tries not to smirk as the two men struggle to get situated without putting their butts or feet in each other's faces.
"That better be a gun clip down there," Bobby grumbles, glancing down at his area. Sam bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Bobby glares at him anyway. "Close it up before I change my mind about all this." Sam does as he's told and shuts the trunk. Then Tyler surprises him by rushing up and hugging his legs.
"Good luck, Sasquatch Sam," Tyler breathes. Sam looks up at Dean in confusion, but Dean only smiles and kneels down.
"He'll be fine, Tyler," Dean assures him. "We're superheroes, remember? We always win." Tyler nods, smiling himself, and he holds his arms out for a hug. Dean lifts him up and obliges him, holding him to his chest as gently as he can. Then he sets him back down and tells him to get ready. Tyler moves away, and Dean and Sam look at each other. Both men smile, but their eyes betray their calm, confident masks.
"Don't tell me you want a hug too," Dean teases.
"I think I'll survive without one," Sam sasses back. Dean grins and grabs for him anyway, pulling him up into a tight hug against his grey shirt. Sam, face smooshed sideways and arms splayed out against part of a gargantuan pectoral, comments, "You're a lot cuddlier since you got bigger, know that?"
"Only because you're fun to cuddle when you're so teeny," Dean says from above. Both men realize at the same time how all of this is sounding, so Dean sets Sam back down and they slip behind their 'everything is fine' masks again. Sam takes the invisibility orb out of his pocket and holds it up.
"Don't you lose that thing," Dean warns him. "You promised you'd let me play with it once we're out of here, and I'm holding you to that promise."
Sam smiles. "I won't." They look at each other again in silence. Finally, Dean checks his watch and nods that it's time. He stands up, and Sam clears his throat and says, "Make sure you come back, Dean."
Dean smirks back and holds up the vial. "See you on the other side, Sammy."
Sam puts the orb to his chest and disappears, and Dean tips the vial, pours the contents onto his tongue, and swallows.
"Huh. Grapey."
Dean pockets the tiny bottle and looks around, waiting. A moment passes by. Then another. All at once, Dean's huge body starts to sway. He breaks out into a sweat as his head rolls and his eyes go glossy. "Holy…" His knees buckle and his body drops onto the floor stomach first, making everything and everyone in the room jump. The color drains from his skin, the lights go out of his eyes, and Dean falls still—a dead mountain in the center of a concrete field. Tyler starts pressing the button immediately, and the door opens right after that, four guards spilling into the room. They move past Tyler and up to the giant.
"What happened?!" one of the soldiers asks Tyler.
"I don't know!" Tyler cries. "He was exercising, and then he said he didn't feel good. I told him he should lie down, but he just stopped and…and fell over." Another soldier is standing next to Dean's face, his hand under the nostrils to check for breathing. "Is he dead?" Tyler asks him. The soldier doesn't answer him, just calls to another one to check for a pulse. "Is he DEAD?" Tyler shouts more loudly.
"We don't know, kid," the first soldier answers. "Just sit tight, okay?" He joins the others in checking Dean's vitals, and Tyler backs away. His back hits the thumb of Dean's outstretched hand, and Tyler starts to tremble. He soon feels a hand rest on his shoulder.
"It's okay," Sam consoles him in a whisper. "It's not real, remember? He's just asleep."
"I know," Tyler whispers back, not at all disturbed by the invisible comfort. "But it's still sad."
Sam can't argue with that. He sticks by Tyler as the soldiers call for assistance. Soon they hear a familiar voice yelling outside the door.
"He's still my patient—let me in there!"
The door opens, and Michelle storms in, with a cavalcade of soldiers close behind. She takes one look at the fallen giant and moves into full-on doctor mode, ordering most of the new soldiers to roll Dean onto his back and others to help her check his vitals. The men shout out numbers, Michelle saying "no" or "dammit" after every call. Sam nearly loses it when the soldiers activate the hooks and chains to help in rolling Dean, but Michelle keeps a close eye on them, making sure they hook the chains around his arm and chest, not into them. Once he's up on his side, Michelle rushes up to Dean's chest and listens.
"We're losing him. Get the defibrillator out here NOW." A soldier goes to the panel under the cot, and the bed lifts up onto its side as the entire bottom half of the wall moves forward and up to Dean's right side. A plethora of what looks like alien machinery pushes out, and Michelle dashes behind a control console just as the soldiers behind her finally manage to get Dean onto his back. There's a rush of motion as huge tubes and devices come out, some from the ceiling, some from the side. Michelle guides each of them in with two joysticks, and in no time, Dean's mouth and nose are covered with a breathing apparatus, and a pair of giant defibrillator pads has settled onto his chest.
"CLEAR!" Michelle all but screams. She presses a button, and a buzzing sound builds all around them. Nothing happens. "What the…" She looks at something on her console. "It isn't charged." She presses it again. "It isn't CHARGED! WHY the HELL isn't it charged?!"
Michelle flies forward, very nearly knocking into still-invisible Sam, who is both marveling at her acting and relieved that she remembered to deactivate the defibrillator. Now he turns and watches her climb up onto Dean's chest at woman-with-a-mission speed. Several guards circle around her, and she counts to three. They all press down at the same time, once, twice, again, on and on until Sam loses count, before she points at another guard by the breathing mask and orders him to up the oxygen intake. "Come on Dean, don't do this," she says, joining the others in more compressions. They push on for another five minutes. By then, Michelle's face is nearly purple from exertion. One of the soldiers gently tries to pull her away. "NO! Keep going!"
"He's gone, doc," the soldier by Dean's wrist says. "No pulse in over five minutes."
Michelle's arms slow their compressions as she glances around. The men by the breathing apparatus shake their heads no. A soldier at the joystick console stares back, frustrated. The men by her side help her stand up, and Michelle pushes them off. "I'm fine," she snaps, brushing tears from her eyes. Then she looks at her watch and pronounces Dean's death. The only sound in the room is coming from Tyler, whose little whimpers are shaking his small frame. Sam's heart goes out to him: even though he knows that Tyler knows Dean isn't dead, his brother still looks like it. Sam himself shudders as he beholds those lifeless, grey hands. Sam moves to comfort Tyler, but a wall of soldiers assembles in front of him, and Sam has to stay put to avoid detection.
Michelle slides down Dean's shoulder and takes the boy in her arms. "I know, sweetie," she soothes, rubbing her arm up and down his back. "I know."
"Implant readouts at zero," the soldier at the control panel states. "Hold on, everyone."
They hear something clamping down on something else, and all at once, everyone is pressed to the floor as the entire room zooms up. What ends up being a 20-second ascent feels more like a lifetime, and as everyone trades nauseated looks, the room finally slows down. The giant walls all around them stop and sink as the floor keeps rising up, and a stark room the size of an airplane hanger opens up all around them. Just as their floor levels out and clamps into place, a crew of scientists rush forward, lab coats billowing in their haste. Michelle breaks away from Tyler to face a chorus of demands and questions.
Go time, Tyler, Sam thinks at the boy, praying he remembers what to do next. To Sam's great relief, Tyler starts moving backward toward the Impala, taking only two, careful steps at a time. He's over halfway to the car when someone walks up behind him and grabs him by the arm.
"Not so fast, young man," everyone's favorite douchebag in sunglasses says, all but dragging Tyler back to the crowd. Sam follows close behind, keeping his hands glued to his sides instead of punching the guy like he wants to. Michelle and the scientists stop talking as soon as Mr. Shady and Tyler approach.
"What killed my giant?" he demands. No one answers. "Well? He didn't just keel over for no reason."
"Y-yes he did, sir," Tyler speaks up, nearly crumbling from the weight of the stares that get thrown at him. "He was exercising—"
"Exercising? Why?"
"To keep up his strength, sir. He said light exercise helped him breathe better ever since he started growing. So he was jogging laps, and…and…"
"And and and WHAT?" Mr. Shady shouts in Tyler's face.
"Leave him alone," Michelle snaps. "He was friends with the giant, and now he just watched him die. The poor child is traumatized, can't you see that? He doesn't need you barreling question after question at him."
Mr. Shady studies Michelle, and Michelle puts her hands on her hips and stares right back. "Where have you been, doctor?" he asks. "Last I'd heard, you'd helped our quarantined fugitives escape from prisoner transfer."
Michelle shrugs. "They ditched me after I removed their implants." She pulls the small discs out of her coat pocket and drops them into his hand.
"And you have no idea where they are now?"
"Why would I?"
Mr. Shady gives a very small smile. "I see. And where were you when you were alerted to the emergency situation in Bay 3?"
"I stopped in the ladies room and then I headed to the lab to examine his latest blood samples." She sneers into his face and adds, "Feel free to check the tapes if you don't believe me."
"Very well." He looks over her head at the scientists. "Remove the implants and check them for data at once. I want to know exactly what organ crashed first, and why. Then prep the body for immediate autopsy."
"Immediate?!" Michelle asks, voice spiking. Mr. Shady gives her yet another studied look, and she clears her throat. "Sorry, I just don't understand why you're in such a rush. Since when do we autopsy a fresh giant corpse instead of taking the usual tissue and blood samples first?"
Mr. Shady smiles more broadly. "Since now." He puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles. "Move it! Edwards, see if you can extract any of the hydros venom. Thompson! Notify the lab…" His voice trails off as he walks on, barking orders with every step. Michelle and Tyler step closer to one another, both of them looking sick.
"Well?" Sam murmurs in Michelle's ear. "What the hell do we do now?!"
A flash of red hits them, and they shield their eyes until it dims down. When they can see, they look up at a monitor and see a vertical, red line from a laser guidance system now centered over Dean's chest. Then a droning, whirring sound screams down at them from above. Michelle, Sam, and Tyler all gulp and look up.
A gigantic buzz saw is being lowered from the ceiling.