Title: Moonstar
Ch. 17: Scattered Pieces
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: Man! I have never had so much abuse heaped on me for just writing what people wanted to read. I promised a fairly decent chapter and what do I get? Death threats. Promises of physical and verbal abuse. I am called evil. A multitude of times. I was threatened with a wet fish and someone's hairy legs (?) (Still wondering about that one.) Even my friends threaten to stop speaking to me, all over a silly little cliffhanger. I'm afraid to leave the house, let alone open my e-mail.
God. It was great!. I can't thank you all enough. That little baby got better than the reaction I hoped for. The reaction was so satisfying I had to smoke a cigarette after reading the reviews. If I died now, I could die happy. I even managed to startle a few non reviewing readers out of the bushes. Seriously, you all made my year with those reviews. I clutch them to me and will treasure them always. Of course, I realize if I died now this wouldn't get finished and I would have people spitting on my grave on top of everything else, so….sorry for the long wait, here we go!
Sam hit Dean in a sideways tackle that took them both down. Sam, grabbing wildly for the knife and Dean fighting wildly to keep him away. They rolled across the dirty, wet stone floor of the balcony, grunting and cursing, smashing into the French doors with a shattering of glass. Thunder and the crackle of lightning added it's own accent to the battle as they each fought for control.
Sam caught Dean's bad hand, still clutching the knife and crushed it in a death grip, causing Dean to scream out and release his hold. The knife clattered to the ground and Sam kicked it away.
"God Damn you!" Dean swore at Sam, trying to get enough freedom to swing on him. Even though Sam had gotten the knife away, Dean had managed to open a huge gash on his arm and blood was splattering over both of them. "Get away from me!." Dean was berserk in his attempt to get Sam off of him.
Sam had no desire to injure Dean but it appeared Dean had no such problem regarding Sam,judging by his manic efforts. Even in his present condition and bleeding like a stuck pig, he was still a formidable opponent. Sam realized that Dean, fired by only God knew what, was fighting madly to get back to that knife and finish the job.
They rolled back over the broken glass, Sam feeling it bite into his skin, as he concentrated on just trying to get Dean pinned down. Behind him he heard a sudden scream as Linda and David burst onto the balcony, stopping dead at the sight of Sam and Dean, thrashing on the ground, blood everywhere.
Sam finally managed to get Dean flat on his back and hold him there by literally lying on top of him spread eagled, with Dean's arms and legs pushed out to the side, so that he had no leverage. With Dean already weakened, Sam's greater size and weight finally turned the tide. Sam could feel his hand slide over the blood covering Dean's arm as it continued to run from the gash.
"Dean, STOP!" Sam begged. "Please, God, just stop!"
Dean had no intention of stopping and flailed against Sam with all the strength he could muster, making his blood pump that much harder. At this rate he would bleed to death before Sam could get him under control.
"Let me go!"
Sam finally head butted Dean as hard as he could, sending Dean's skull crashing back into the stone and stunning himself in the process. Dean went instantly limp as Sam collapsed on top of him, breathless and exhausted.
Reeling, Sam dragged himself off of Dean and pulled off his own over shirt, seeing the blood spots but ignoring the sting of the cuts across his back from the broken glass. His hands shook as he bunched the shirt up to press against the gash in Dean's arm. It was long, bad enough, but not as deep as all the blood would have indicated. Apparently, Sam's tackle had kept Dean him from digging in too deeply.
Linda and David rushed over. "My God! Sam, what's going on? We heard all the crashing and…"
"Go up to our room!" Sam barked, cutting David off. "Get the brown bag on the floor by the table, bring it here!"
David bolted without argument. Linda, wearing a robe and gown that barely concealed her assets in the gusting wind, knelt by Sam. "What can I do?"
He grabbed her hands and pressed them over the shirt. "Hold this here!" The next blast of thunder almost drowned him out. "I'll be right back!" He ran down the stairs and back through the lobby and out the front door to the Impala. Icy rain pelted him as he tore through the darkness. He fumbled the keys into the lock and jerked the trunk open, grabbing a coil of rope and a loaded salt gun. He slammed the trunk back down and stumbled on trembling legs back to the hotel, dropped the rope on the floor and got back to the balcony.
David was kneeling by Linda, examining the slash on Dean's arm. Dean was still out cold.
"We need to get this bandaged." Sam said tersely, pushing Linda out of the way as he knelt again. "Then we're burning those bodies. NOW!"
Swiftly, he wound Dean's arm with bandages from the first aid kit he had had David fetch. He also wrapped Dean's hand and tied off the gauze. They could do a better job later.
"Your back is bleeding, Sam." Linda exclaimed, getting to her feet and accepting the bag as he thrust it at her. "What happened out here?"
"David, help me with Dean," Sam ordered. Rain was starting to patter on them as they managed to get Dean's limp form up and hauled to the lobby. They lay him on the floor and Sam wrapped Dean's wrists with rope and tied him to the column that ran up to the ceiling, leaving a short lead so that Dean could move. Once that was done, Sam collapsed next to him on the floor, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
"Why did you do that?" Linda quavered, eyes going from Sam to Dean and back again.
"Dean just tried to kill himself!" Sam wheezed. He pressed his hands over his eyes. "Christ…"
"He what?" Linda exclaimed. "Why would he do that?"
Sam had a pretty good idea. Even after the Bailey's, Dean had still been able to keep it together. Dean was always balanced on the precipice of a psychological minefield of his own creation but something God awful had to have happened to force Dean to such measures. The thought terrified Sam that Dean had finally lost control
Sam dragged himself laboriously to his feet, ordering his legs to hold him up. The healing gash in his thigh ached to the bone and he limped as he moved toward David.
"Come with me!" he ordered David. He turned and pointed a finger at Linda, who flinched back. "Watch him!"
Sam and David disappeared down the stairs.
Linda sat next to Dean's blood covered body. A darkening bruise was appearing on his forehead, almost identical to the one she had noticed on Sam. Lightning made the windows glow, on the heels of crackling thunder. Dean moaned softly and pulled against the ropes holding his wrists. Linda reached out tentatively and touched his face. His head was resting on Sam's jacket.
His eyelids fluttered and finally opened. He stared blearily at Linda, tugging again on the ropes. "What the…" The pain in his arm and hand doubled as he began to struggle.
"Dean! Dean, sweetie, please! Calm Down!" She did her best to soothe him with words, willing to admit he frightened her enough to make her want to keep her distance. "Sam tied you up. He said you tried to kill yourself!" She reached out again. "He'll be right back, I promise."
"Sam? SAM did this! SAM!" Dean bellowed Sam's name with surprising strength. Linda snatched her hand back. "SAM, you get your ass here right NOW!" he screamed. He managed to drag himself to his knees using the ropes, but he couldn't stand. He swayed so badly, just kneeling was almost impossible. Linda backed away from him. "Sam! God DAMMIT!" The vibration from his voice reverberated through his skull and he bent over clutching his head.
He turned as Sam and David wrestled their burden up the stairs. They had found a tarp somewhere and had wrapped the bodies in it. Sam dropped his end of the bundle on the landing and rushed over to Dean, grabbing his shoulders. "Dean! Calm Down! You've lost a lot of blood, calm down!"
"Untie me, Sam! Right now! I mean it! You fucking untie me NOW!" Dean still wore that crazed look and Sam wouldn't have untied him right then to save his own life.
Sam shoved Dean up against the column, as carefully as he could, hating himself. "NO!" He shouted back. "You shut up and listen to me!"
Dean still struggled against Sam but it was obvious his strength was failing him. His eyes shot daggers at Sam, lost between disbelief and fury.
Sam grabbed the rope binding Dean's hands and jerked it up, causing Dean to cry out. "You just fucking tried to slit your own wrists! You're not in control anymore Dean! I can't take the chance that you'll try it again. I can't let you go until we burn these bodies!" Sam's voice made it clear he was at the end of his own rope. "I swear to God I will tie you the rest of the way up if you don't settle down!" Sam shook his head. "It's not what I want, Dean. But I got no choice."
"You son of a bitch…." Dean seethed, his voice faltering as he began to cough again. He jerked against the ropes, but his body was betraying him with it's weakness and his head was swimming. The adrenaline was leaving his body in a rush along with what little color he had. Dean's head rocked and Sam gripped his arms as he slumped down. "Get the fuck away from me…" Dean gasped.
Knowing Dean didn't realize what he was saying didn't keep the words from hurting.
Dean's body heaved with each breath, his skin was clammy and Sam was afraid that much more stress to his body would send Dean into shock. Sam climbed wearily to his feet and started back toward David.
Dean rasped. "Man, please untie me…." He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I feel sick…." The whiskey he had drunk was swirling around his head intermixing with the images spinning through his brain. He started to shiver.
Sam squatted down, studying Dean.
"Dean…look at me." Sam put his fingers under Dean's jaw and pulled his head up. "Dean, you just tried to kill yourself." Sam said it gently but his eyes were anything but gentle.
Dean grimaced. "I what….no…." The blatant evidence of his bandaged arm and the fact that Sam had him trussed to a post told him otherwise. "Christ…." he groaned as it all crashed in on him. For a moment he thought his head would burst from the onslaught of his private hell opening up before him, a bottomless chasm of horror and pain waiting to suck him in. The things he had done….what he had tried to do standing on the cold balcony in his bloody clothes, with his bloody soul, facing off with Sam…..
Sam grabbed him. "Dean! Dean, stay with me!" Dean felt his hands jerking as Sam quickly untied him. He felt himself being laid on the hard stone floor, his body quaking. His legs were raised and propped on something as softness was tucked around him. Sam's voice, speaking urgently, "Linda, get some water, please? Room temperature and put a little salt in it."
"Sure, Sam." Linda hurried into the kitchen.
Sam brushed a hand though Dean's hair. "Lie still Dean. Just lie still." Sam rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired on so many levels. "We've got to burn those bodies." He said, looking at David. "Is there someplace outside where the rain won't stop us?" Sam massaged his forehead trying to keep the headache pounding behind his eyes from getting any worse.
David nodded, licking his lips nervously. "There's a big covered shed next to the hotel where we've been storing equipment. It has a dirt floor, there's an access from inside the hotel."
"Fine, let's get them out there and get this done. You have kerosene or something?" Sam stopped as Linda returned with a glass of tepid water. He smiled his thank you and put a hand under Dean's head.
"Try and drink some of this," Sam helped hold the glass as Dean choked down a few swallows, making a face at the salty taste. He still felt nauseous but he'd stopped shaking.
Sam offered him the glass again but Dean shook his head.
"Sam, listen to me…" Dean pleaded as Sam lowered his head back down on the wadded up jacket.
Sam's mouth tightened. "Dean…"
Dean whispered hoarsley. "What about Becker?"
Sam stopped dead. "What about who? Becker? Becker came to you?" Sam gave Dean a narrow eyed look of suspicion. "I thought it was Margaret that's been wearing you like a damned shirt?"
Dean caught Sam's arm. "Margaret didn't want to hurt me, Sam. She just wanted us to find her body and Stephen's. She was looking for someone to help her. "
His grip on Sam's arm tightened and he struggled to sit up, even though Sam was trying to push him back. His legs slid off the bags of concrete they were propped on. "What happened with me…..before," He stopped, fighting his way through the jumble in his mind, then closed his eyes and pushed on. "Becker made it happen. I don't know how…. everything just fell in…. I couldn't stop myself. He said he was gonna punish you for finding them. But he was gonna do it by …." Dean swallowed and rubbed a hand across his dry lips. He had been worn out before but the act of sitting upright was almost too much for him now. His muscles were shaking at the effort.
Sam leaned forward. "What, Dean?" he asked gently. He was aware of Linda re-entering the room, pulling on a heavy sweater. She had changed clothes. Lightning blued the room, causing the lights to flicker.
Dean's eyes shot to David, then Sam, and then back to the floor. "He said he was gonna hurt you by making me hurt myself." Dean fumbled for the words, embarrassed to be saying them in front of people who had no idea the sort of things Sam and Dean had seen and done in their short lives. "I couldn't stop the memories…all those things I….I couldn't stop them…" Dean covered his eyes with his bandaged hand, I can't stop them…unable to say it, unable to block it out.
Sam's eyes widened as he realized what Dean was saying. "Dean, it's ok…" He reached out but Dean jerked back from his touch, disgusted with himself for being unable to withstand what had amounted to psychological rape.
"Don't." There was an edge of panic to Dean's voice that Sam took seriously. He dropped his hand back to his side.
"Becker died and was buried in Florida, Dean," Sam began. "How can he be here? " He still wasn't sure this wasn't just another layer of Dean's recent possessed psychosis.
Dean raised his head, a memory that had been hiding in the back of his mind suddenly making itself known.. "He was at the foot of my bed, tapping his glasses on the footboard." Dean seemed to be talking to himself. "I was watching his hands. There was something…." God, why couldn't he remember! He tried to claw a hand through his hair but both arms hurt too much and he dropped them back to his lap with a grimace.
"Margaret said that he wouldn't let them go…."
Sam nodded in response. "You said that a couple of times. I didn't understand."
"The only way they could be controlled by Becker's spirit is if Becker had a way to come back here, a way to stay in….." Dean gasped as a series of images played across his mind's eye, flickering and out of focus, like an old movie.
Becker whistled a simple tune softly, pausing as the wall was almost completed, the last few bricks ready to go, save for the tiny slit he was leaving at the top. A part of his mind was niggling him about leaving Margaret like that with nothing to remind her of him, a token of their time together. Damn. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? His watch? A photo?
No it needed to be something very personal. He still loved her….still .wanted to be with her.
Oh, my God!" Dean groaned at his slow mindedness. "Shit! His hands!" Dean could see it clearly in his mind now, Becker leaning on the foot of the bed, fingers curled over the iron railing.
Light from the overhead lamps glinted off of the knife as Becker positioned his hand flat on the table and set the blade against the skin of his little finger. One quick push and it would be done…..
Nine fingers. Not ten.
"What?" Sam yelped, frustrated.
Dean held out his hands imploringly, fingers extended. "That's what was wrong, he was missing a finger! The son of a bitch cut off one of his own fingers and left it with them!
Sam and David gaped at him. "Are you kidding?" Sam finally got out. "I know he was a psycho, but, how can you know that about his finger? Maybe it was already missing.""
"Listen to me! He told me that if he was willing to kill her, why wouldn't he make a small sacrifice of his own to stay with her?" Dean dragged a hand across his eyes. "Think about it, what better way to maintain contact? He may not have realized what it really could do for him, maybe it was just some stupid symbolic thing, but once he did….burning those two bodies may stop them from coming back, but it won't stop Becker!" Groaning softly, Dean's head fell forward, his body sliding down.
Sam reached out to stop him and he sagged limply against Sam.
"I'm right, Sam. I know it." Dean breathed.
Sam took a deep breath. "If you're right, how the hell are we gonna find something like that in this hotel?"
"He didn't plan on killing her….. he did it before he finished bricking up the wall where we found them. He was sorry he didn't think of it sooner or he would have put it with their bodies….." Dean gripped Sam's arm. "It's still in the wall. Where we found them." Dean was using Sam's body to pull himself up.
"What are you doing?" Sam demanded, stopping him.
"I'm going with you.
"The hell you say," Sam replied, in no uncertain terms.
Dean shoved away from Sam and stood swaying, reeking of blood. He reached out to steady himself against the column he had been tied to.
"Yeah, the hell I say." He replied, swallowing the pain in his throat and welcoming the anger that got him on his feet. Praying it would be enough to keep him there.
Oh! Did I forget to mention, I had to break this into two chapters. I knew I forgot something! Darn, silly old me!
Before you start grabbing torches and pitchforks, a thank you, please to Onari for some great suggestions that helped to tighten this chapter up and make more sense and to November's Guest for her treasured opinion and for catching a major typo. You wouldn't even be reading this if they hadn't guinea pigged for me. Next, and hope to God, last chapter Sunday night or Monday. :D Read and review, my children. I love you all!