Title: Moonstar
Ch. 12: From A Dark Place
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Only get pleasure, no money. Welcome to the world thru my eyes.
Summary: Dean is crashing after a string of bad jobs. One last, terrible incident pushes him over the edge. He's on a downhill slide and the Moonstar is the last place he needs to be.
A/N: I could apologize for doing what I did at the end of the last chapter but I wouldn't mean it so I won't. Ta for the many incensed reviews, I really enjoyed them. Love each and every one of you, too! I wish I could write deep and beautiful, but it's just not my style. Just hope I don't end up disappointing you after all the buildup. Onward and upward….
Sam hustled back down the stairs, muscles aching, pain from his half healed thigh pulling his face into a grimace. When he hit the lobby he looked around, there just weren't that many places on this level.
Linda came out of the dining area, rather breathless, but for once her heaving bosoms did not command Sam's attention.
"Any luck? " He demanded as soon as he saw her.
She shook her head. "Sweetie, if he's anywhere on this floor, unless he crawled in a silverware drawer I can't find him."
They both turned as David thudded down from the staircase behind Sam. He shook his head at their questioning looks. "Nothing, I ran every room in the upper floors."
"Locked ones, too?" Sam asked. "Trust me," he said in response to their puzzled faces. "If Dean wants in, a locked door isn't going to stop him, especially the antiques on these doors."
"Have you checked downstairs?" Sam moved toward the lower staircase.
Linda shook her head, "Not that thoroughly. There are several offices and small rooms down there, the bathrooms and the spa….Sam, " Linda caught his arm. "Why would Dean do this? Could he be delirious? Should we call the police? Or a doctor?"
Sam shook his head, face grim. "If what I think has happened, I'm pretty sure doesn't know what he's doing and we don't need a lot of people here to explain things to. Just help me, please. We have to find him." He turned back to the stairs and limped down them as fast as he could. What if they couldn't find him? The mere thought froze Sam's blood, spurring to greater speed and making it difficult to fight down his desire to panic.
It didn't take long to make a sweep of the downstairs rooms with Linda and David helping.
It also meant it didn't take long to see Dean wasn't there.
Sam leaned against the wall, trying to think, one hand gripped habitually in his long hair.
His eyes fell on a door that was solidly bolted at the end of a short corridor off the main hallway. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to it.
"What's in here?" he asked running his hand over it, glancing back at Linda and David.
They looked at each other. "It goes to the morgue, we always keep it locked." David replied. "Even if Dean went in there, he certainly couldn't have thrown the bolts and padlocked it from the inside…"
Sam tugged on the padlock. "If he got in, I'm pretty sure he didn't use the door. You got the key?"
David nodded, withdrawing the small ring of keys from his pocket.
Margaret's senses returned slowly and hesitantly. Pain pounded in her skull and the sweetish odor of chloroform still hung about her. She opened her eyes but at first saw only blackness.
She couldn't move. Every part of her body seemed twisted and locked in place, bound down and off balance.
Gradually, as she gave herself time to recover, she realized she was gagged, lying down in a space that was apparently barely large enough to accommodate her body. Was she in a closet?
She was, she finally knew, tied TO something. Her arms were wrapped around it and tied in place as was every part of her body including her head.
The thinnest slice of light came through a tiny slit as far up the wall she was lying against as she could roll her eyes. She had to calm herself and breathe through her nose, closing her eyes to give them time to adjust to the almost complete blackness.
Her eyes snapped open again as a warm voice trilled from the other side of the wall she was lying against.
"I know you're awake," Becker stated. His voice came through the tiny slit at the top of the wall. "Don't feel obligated to reply, my dear, under the circumstances, I suspect you may find it difficult." There was a soft chuckle. "I apologize for the accommodations. I realize they may be a trifle small, but then wasn't closeness the point here?"
A sharp, measured tapping began to move down the wall. She could visualize him walking a slow track up and down, tapping the wall with his glasses, just like he did when he would pace his office, thinking.
"You should be grateful," he began again. Tap, tap. "After all, we are all getting what we wanted here." Tap. "You and the man you love will be spending the rest of your lives together. What a touching picture." Tap…,tap…tap. "And I, my dear, no matter where I go, or how much time passes, will always know where to find the woman I love." Tap…Tap. " What great peace of mind for me, eh Margaret? Be certain, you will always be in my thoughts. As no doubt, I will be in yours."" She could here the gentle taps as he moved down the hallway, until they finally faded from her hearing
She tried again to move but it was impossible. Her eyes rolled hesitantly to the side to try to make out what was beside her.
Her shriek was no less horrific for being muffled by the gag. She instinctively tried to flail away.
Stephen! Oh my God, Stephen!
They all heard the distant scream as the door came open, revealing a narrow black hallway.
Sam pushed by David and ran heedlessly down the corridor, flashlight jerking light spastically as he ran. He came up against another door and kicked it in without hesitation even though the pain in his leg was shattering. It slammed into the wall with an ear splitting crash. Sam shot his light around the room, searching for the source of the desperate sounds he was hearing.
"Dean! Where are you?"
He followed the sounds into the next room, stumbling over boxes and paint cans.
Harsh light suddenly flooded the main room as someone hit the light switch..
"Sam? Sam, my God, did you find him?" Linda's panic stricken voice echoed around the room.
Now that he could see, Sam dropped his flash and went down on one knee, hand stretching out slowly toward Dean's huddled form, crammed as far as he could go into the junk piled in the small side storeroom.
His arms were crossed over his face, buried against his drawn up legs. His shirt was bloodstained and his right palm was crimson. The skin Sam could see was crisscrossed with deep scratches. He was twitching and shaking violently, fingers spasming. His cries had fallen to panting moans, broken by ragged coughing.
"Dean…it's me, Sam…" Sam inched closer, the small sounds he made moving, causing Dean to flinch. "It's ok, Dean. Everything is gonna be ok…" He spoke as gently as he could, trying not to betray the shock he felt at his brother's condition. He heard Linda and David come up quietly behind him, heard Linda's sharp intake of breath.
Dean lifted his head slightly, eyeing Sam in confusion, breath jerking. "It's so cold…" he murmured brokenly. Spent tears left muddy tracks down his face from his red rimmed eyes.
Sam felt his heart twist. Dean…
"Can one of you get me a blanket? " Sam said softly, over his shoulder.
"Sure," David said just as quietly. His hurried steps faded away.
Sam crept up the dusty pile of boxes, bags and cobwebs, Dean watching him with wary eyes. He pulled back slightly as Sam got closer, shaking his head. Sam's touch on Dean's leg made him jerk backwards, but there was nowhere left to go.
"Don't leave me here….please…" Dean's fingers suddenly dug onto Sam's arms, fresh tears spilled from his eyes. "Don't leave me in the dark…"
Sam had his arms around Dean then, pulling him close. Sam closed his eyes, pressing his face against Dean's sweaty hair. Fever heat blasted off of him. Without thinking, Sam began to rock gently, whispering nothing words of comfort.
Dean kept murmuring brokenly against Sam's shoulder, not to leave him there, in the darkness. The only problem was, Sam didn't know who was speaking.
Dean or Margaret.
David returned quickly with a blanket and Sam wrapped it around Dean's shivering form and gently coaxed him to his feet with David's help. Linda hovered as they carefully picked their way off the pile of junk and onto the floor.
Once they made it to the floor, Dean's weight shifted suddenly as his legs gave way, catching Sam by surprise before he could compensate and taking them both down.
"Man," Dean groaned, pushing weakly against Sam who was sprawled over him. "Get off me…"
Sam scrambled off and grabbed Dean by the arms. "Dean? Is that you?"
Dean didn't seem confused by Sam's odd question. He coughed again and sniffed, swallowing. He nodded, wiping at his face. "Yeah…I think so…" his voice was ragged. "God, I'm….freezing…" He hugged himself, and Sam caught the blanket and pulled it back around him.
"Can you make it to our room?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded again after a moment. "I feel kinda weird…my legs …." He tried to rise and managed to do so with Sam and David's assistance. They pulled Dean's arms across their shoulders and gripped him around the waist easing him out of the room.
"I'll get his bed fixed up, " Linda offered.
Sam gave her a tight smile. "Thanks." Linda vanished down the hall way.
As they passed through the autopsy room, Dean's head turned to stare at the table, a shudder surmounting his shivering.
"Okay?" Sam asked.
Dean looked away. "Yeah. Except…"
Sam and David paused. "Except what?" Sam's voice was tense.
Dean groaned. "Man, I really gotta pee…"
Getting Dean up to their room was a trip. After all the walking and running, Sam's leg almost couldn't take the weight of dragging himself and Dean up the stairs, even with David's much appreciated assistance. Dean managed to use the bathroom under his own power but he was so sweaty and dirty he refused to get in the bed.
David excused himself so that Sam could assist Dean without embarrassment. Sam thanked him softly as he closed the door and limped back to Dean, slumped on the toilet, head in his hands, still, except for the motion caused by his sporadic coughing.
"You wanta take a fast shower? Get those cuts taken care of…and your hand…again."
"Sam…" Dean didn't lift his head, his voice thick.
"It's ok, Dean." Sam said. He knelt awkwardly in front of Dean and began to pull the filthy shirt slowly down Dean's scratched arms. "This isn't your fault. I think I got a pretty good idea of what's happening. We can fix this—"
"Sam, please! " Dean pushed ineffectually at Sam's hands. He was so tired and so cold. "Listen to me!" The memories of what he had seen, what he had lived, had left him confused and shaken. Frightened he still wasn't alone within himself.
Sam stopped. "What Dean? Tell me what you want?" He sat back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs.
"She's not trying to hurt me….."
"Hurt you?" Sam barked in outrage. "Jesus Christ, Dean, look at you! It's not like you weren't a mess already when we got here but now…. She's fucking with your mind, we gotta stop her!"
Dean jerked back as Sam raised his voice, hastily looking down, he almost cringed. Sam's mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth. He searched Dean's face for some idea of what was going on and how not to…scare him… again.
He finally reached out and began to gently remove the shirt once more. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we can talk.." He spoke quietly, carefully, as though addressing a frightened child. Dean watched him from under his eyelashes. "I promise, I'll listen to what you have to say, ok? I'm sorry I yelled."
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," Dean warned in a low voice.
Sam stood with an effort and tossed Dean's shirt into the main room. "I don't think you're an idiot, Dean, but after all this, I'm beginning to have serious doubts about myself." He pressed his fingertips to his forehead and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"I'll see if I can find you some clothes," Sam finally said, "you've gone through damn near everything. I'll throw a load in the washer later." He paused. "Can you get your jeans off all right?"
Dean nodded and began to fumble with his belt. Sam went to search for clothes, finally grabbing a pair of sweats he found at the bottom of Dean's bag, some boxers and a pair of socks. He pulled a fairly clean shirt from his own bag and carried them into the bathroom.
Dean was leaning against the wall, arms braced, trying to keep his feet, clad in his boxers, his jeans kicked to one side. He was still shivering, his skin prickly with gooseflesh. He watched Sam silently.
Sam reached into the shower and turned on the water full blast and as hot as it would go. After a moment the room became steamy and Sam changed the temperature to one that wouldn't blister skin from bones.
Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, "uh, Sam? I'm not sure I can stand long enough to…" he began.
Sam stripped off his own shirt and threw it down. "Don't worry about it."
Showered and in dry clothes, Dean moved slowly back to the bed and sat down. Sam had gotten so wet, helping Dean he had finally stripped off the rest of his clothes once Dean was done and taken a shower himself while Dean dressed.
The sensation of Margaret's hold on Dean had gradually faded and he was more comfortable, as if his skin fit once more. His control over the troubled thoughts running through his mind did not come so simply. No matter how hard he pushed they kept returning to twist his ability to think clearly.
He lay back, coughing , rubbing one hand across his chest, wishing he could turn his mind off, just for a few minutes. A little silence was all he wanted. The shower had warmed him up, and he actually felt a little better. His injured hand hurt like a bitch but he hadn't pulled any stitches this time. It was thickly rebandaged.
Sam came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. He paused by Dean, studying him.
Dean's eyes rolled up to meet Sam's gaze. "What?"
Sam opened his mouth as a knock sounded on the door. He grabbed the bag on his bed and vanished back in the bathroom.
"Sam? It's David and Linda. We brought some coffee. If you boys are decent, we'd really like to talk with you."
Dean had to force the words though his throat to get enough volume to be heard. "C'mon in!"
David opened the door and Linda stepped in with a tray. They both smiled when they saw Dean, sitting up, looking so much better.
Linda set the tray on the table and rushed over to Dean, breasts jouncing. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry for what happened!" She exclaimed, grasping his hand and holding it against her chest.
Dean's eyes widened and he gently excavated his hand, a touch of color flaring in his face. "It wasn't your fault, don't worry about it." His voice was rocky sounding but understandable after a few hesitant swallows. He pulled back slightly, uncomfortable with her nearness. He glanced up as Sam came back out of the bathroom shrugging on a shirt.
Linda jumped and went back to her tray. "I brought some coffee," She said, "And I made a couple of sandwiches in case you were hungry. Or there's some soup if a sandwich is too much. Sam said you haven't been eating." She carried a thick mug over to Dean and carefully handed it to him.
Dean cupped the mug in both hands and glanced at the thickish brown liquid inside. It smelled good, anyway.
She laughed at the expression on his face. "It's vegetable beef. I ran it through a blender so you could drink it."
Dean mouthed a relieved 'oh'.
She set a plate with a sandwich on it on the bed next to where Sam had settled into a chair. She handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," Sam murmured. He really wasn't that hungry but it was thoughtful of her. He was pleased when Dean lifted the mug of soup and took a cautious sip.
David and Linda each sat down and pulled a cup of coffee over to themselves. They sat with the air of people who were waiting for something. A quick exchange of looks between them and David leaned forward.
"Sam, Dean, what the fuck is going on here?"
Sorry, no malicious intent here. Going out of town (to mess around at the hotel in this story, actually) and can't write anymore until next week. I'll write in my head so I can get a chapter up when I get back. If anyone is still interested in reading it.
This is a mediocre chapter and for that I do apologize, seems to be a lot of getting from one place to another in this story but if I didn't have these you wouldn't have a clue what's going on. Hell, I barely do and I'm writing it. Few more chapters to go, still. Everyone have a safe, fun 4th. If your not from the USA just have a great Tuesday!