SN fic: Ga'lo
chapter 2
by J.A. Carlton
aka sifichick
Disclaimer: A guy named Kripke owns Supernatural and the associated characters.
Luckily I love the boys enough to write this final fic. For anyone who bothers to read this, criticism is appreciated, hopefully it's constructive.
Thanx in advance.
sifi.
Ga'lo Chapter 2.
BOBBY'S HOUSE.
"Here lemme get that..." Bobby offered as they finagled John's transport gurney through the narrow halls of his house and into his office, recently converted into a room for his longtime friend.
"I got it!" Laura nearly snarled. Ever since the pain started in the van he'd been coddling her. She knew he'd gotten pretty freaked when the wheezing started and she hacked up a few drops of blood, and though all that had stopped she was still white and waxier than anything Madame Tousseaud had ever created.
"No… ya don't!... now move and let me get him settled," he gently but firmly moved her out of the way. What little pressure he exerted on her shoulders seemed to transmit all the way down her torso, giving her ribs a 'collapsible cup' feeling that literally made her pull away from him. He scrutinized her at length until she felt awkward enough to shrug and leave him to wrestle John into the room alone.
By the time he was finished getting everything in place she was sitting at the kitchen table with a Celtic cross tarot spread half read before her.
"The boys are on their way. I called Dean and told him we brought John here. He said they were already on their way and should be here by tomorrow early afternoon," she muttered turning over another card, this one the eight of pentacles, indicating continued study or ongoing education.
"How'd he sound?" Bobby asked pointedly.
"Good… fine… excellent actually…" she still refused to look at him even as he sat at the next chair.
"Good… glad to hear it…" he nodded, "You planning on being here when they get here?"
She shrugged tightly every aspect of the motion seeming stiff and guarded as if the act of breathing alone caused pain.
Bobby didn't mind admitting this sudden onset of symptoms scared him. If this was some kind of trade she'd made through one of the rituals' aspects, he didn't like it at all.
After he'd pulled over she'd thrown the passenger door open and fallen to all fours on the shoulder, her breath coming in gasps and stomach clenching until small droplets of blood came up, each onea self contained Rorschach blot. He recalled vaguely hearing a sound like twigs snapping as her arms shook and an expression of pure agony reminded him of why and how he'd gotten into hunting himself. He shook his head to dispel the memory, he couldn't think about that and act rationally, after all this was someone very different.
"I don't know but if you don't stop looking at me like that I'm going to hit you," she threatened lightly and flipped the next card to find the King of Rods staring at her. She shook her head. "Maybe not. You know… Sam… he and Dean need to be in sync…"
"Well if you aren't going to be here, then maybe you should get yourself…"
"I don't need to be looked at!" she nearly growled, 'they'd just admit me,' she thought.
"Alright, alright, it was just a suggestion…"
Her eyes flashed as an idea sped across the ticker of her brain, "You don't mention any of this to Dean Bobby! If he even thinks there's a possibility that any of this could be related to him… I won't have it do you understand me?" she demanded almost choking on her own words.
"But you have to admit it might…" he shook his head, "he has a right to know…"
"No absolutely not! He has enough on his shoulders, and enough guilt and self doubt to fill the Houston Astrodome! There's no way I'm gonna let him think for a single moment that any of this might have anything to do with him, do you get me! Not a…" she finally did choke on her words, buckling to the floor locked into a wracking coughing fit that left her gasping furiously for air. Bobby was at her side in a flash, one hand across her back and the other across her chest in case she passed out. It was a good precaution, as he lifted her gently from the floor to take her to her room he shook his head,
"It's the Reliant Astrodome kiddo…"
NEAR THE WYOMING BORDER.
Sam didn't know what to think. Dean was crashed out in the passenger seat snoring lightly, putting off an oddly contented vibe since the call came through from Laura telling him that she'd talked to Bobby and arranged for John to reside with him. Other than that little bit Dean hadn't confided in Sam despite the fact that he talked to the woman, 'bitch' snarled in the back of his head, for several minutes.
He shook his head not understanding where this dislike for her was coming from. He thought he understood its origins; that he was just afraid for his brother but knowing that Dean was talking to her, having a civilized conversation with her beyond the needs and condition of their father… it just rubbed him the wrong way. He thought about what Dean had said to him just before they'd gone to rescue their dad, Dean had called him a 'selfish bastard' and it hadn't been the first time. There was that time in Indiana too, that was when he'd first met Meg. A chill ran up his spine at the memory but he couldn't help wondering if maybe Dean was right. '…I mean he deserves some measure of happiness, some kind of… something outside the family doesn't he?...' he waited for a response from deep within but none seemed to come forth, 'doesn't he?' he asked again then forced an answer from himself, 'of course he does… we all do… but where's my happiness? where's dad's? why should he find someone that means something to him when dad and I have no one? It's not right…' he heard himself think then added, 'I really am a selfish bastard…' and felt even worse if that was possible. After everything his dad and brother had always done for him and he could admit to himself… it was just to painful a thought for him to finish.
Anger and frustration began to boil in his guts and he realized that his foot had lifted slightly from the gas pedal. Determined to get there as quickly as possible he pushed it down much like Dean would and watched the yellow stripes blur into one big line in the road. 'that's more like it…I hope she's there… we need to have a talk me and her… who does she think she is trying to get into his head? What right has she got to try and keep us from our father!... who the hell does she think she is?' he wondered and heard that same little voice in the back of his head, 'what a bitch!' On his right Dean moaned, tossed his head and took a shaky breath that seemed to hitch halfway in, as if his respite from the pain he'd been living with for the last two months was ending andwas about to return with a vengeance.
Dean was running faster than he'd ever run or ever dreamed of running. The ground flowed by beneath him, a canvas of colors sliding past as he chased the Ga'lo. He could see light bending around it, outlining it like some special effect and wondered once more if he was dead, 'No, just dreaming…' his inner voice responded allowing him to relax into the wicked cool fantasy.
Fact and perception mingled as he re-lived a leap that seemed to last forever onto the creatures' back. In reality, by the time he'd tackled it, it was no larger than him, but in the dream it was the eight foot invisibeast he was taking on and winning against.
The waning daylight cast an ethereal haze over the landscape creating a surreal relief that seemed to pulse through every living thing.
He looked down at the Ga'lo beneath him, its flat clay-like features recently made visible somehow. It blinked over the mere depressions that served as its eyes and smiled, the rim of its rudimentary maw twisting obscenely before him.
'That's not right… these things are just puppets, they don't have emotions…' he thought feeling a strange heaviness in his belly.
"You think what you do matters?" it asked, its voice crisp and clear, where Dean would've thought it would be muddled and thick. That it could talk shocked him, that it would or could ask a question of that very nature left him speechless and jack-o-lantern hollow, "You?… what you do?… what you think is so important…" it mocked.
At his ear he heard a familiar voice that seemed to wrap the chill out of him, "Put the tablet in its mouth Dean."
His hand moved prying open the Ga'los jaw as the other slid the small clay square into its mouth and under its tongue.
"You mean nothing…" it uttered as it began to petrify and crumble.
"Nothing is an accident," that soft warm voice breathed smiling easily into his ear, he wanted to turn his head and see her face, in fact he was trying to but couldn't. He knew that voice, it haunted his dreams and layered him in unconditional love whenever he thought his world was about to crumble, but he never saw her. It was as if every time he tried to something stopped him like he was afraid to see her after all this time. So he fed himself on the love he knew she gave and made due with that.
"Mom…" he whispered letting the memory of her warmth comfort him.
"Dean… it all has purpose…YOU have purpose…" she assured him and he would've sworn he felt her hand on his head.
All his doubts and feelings of inferiority fell crushing within him and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, "What purpose? All I ever do is get people hurt… they… I want… Dad… Sammy… I can't…" he choked feeling his head drawn into a safe, comforting, gentle embrace.
"Shhhh t'sokay… I'm here. I'll always be here for you…" he could feel her hand smoothing his hair, "You just keep doing your best, being your best… in the end it'll…"
His head rocked forward as Sam slammed on the breaks for a rabbit with bad timing.
"What!" he yelped, a hint of desperation behind the word, 'What? it'll what? Please tell me it'll be okay in the end…' he thought pained as he turned and looked at his younger brother.
"Sorry," Sam apologized, "just a rabbit…" he gave Dean a moment to blink himself back to reality, he knew what it felt like to awaken abruptly uncertain of anything.
He was sorry to have awakened his brother. When Dean was asleep he was at peace, no one brow beating him about the virtues of what they were doing, no preaching, no moralizing… just peace.
"You dreaming about Allyson Hannigan again?" he asked grinning.
"Mmm…" Dean smiled wistfully, "not this time… just about taking down that Ga'lo," he sighed sleepily. He never told anyone about his dreams about Mom; not Dad, and certainly not Sam. 'He'd probably use some freshman psych course and analyze the 'comfort' right out of them.'
"Where are we?" he asked wiping his face and searching the velvet blackness outside the windows for some sign of their location.
"We're almost through Wyoming, we should be at Bobby's in time for lunch."
"Pull over willya… I gotta take a leak," Dean yawned.
The night air was cool and moist on his face as he stepped around to the rear of the car and a few feet off the road. Part of his mind was still on the dream, the 'Mom' part of it anyway, 'In the end it'll what?' he asked himself as a tiny voice unacknowledged for over two decades pleaded tearfully and remained yet again unacknowledged, 'Please give me my family back.'
ELSEWHERE.
Viscous, cloying images layered themselves within his mind, each laden with grotesque atrocities both real and imagined. People he knew from the present and the past contorted in agony, screaming, crying and pleading for him to help them though he couldn't. He couldn't move, could barely breathe as their agonies assailed him compounding his sense of failure and impotence.
'God help me… save me from this nightmare please… I can't take it much longer…' he prayed yet again and felt himself climbing stairs.
He could smell grease and rubber and the unmistakable fragrance of parts cleaner. 'Thank God I'm home!...' he thought looking around. So many memories flooding him, reminding him of happy days before everything had gone to hell.
'Ah, there's my baby…' he could feel himself smiling as his gaze lovingly caressed the almost mirrored finish of his beloved Impala who sat resting comfortably in one of the repair bays, it was raining out after all.
Above him, as he approached the first step to the loft the fluorescents began to flicker, slowly at first then as he began to sense that though this place was like a second home to him he still wasn't himself, it gave a final flash and fizzled completely leaving him in the deep dark.
"Damnit!" he cursed but knew the entirety of the garage well enough to find a 10mm open ended box wrench if he were blind. 'besides, there's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light…' he reminded himself but even as he did, he sensed there was something just a little wrong with that assumption.
As he reached the fourth step he felt his back foot slip a bit and groaned inwardly, 'Great don't tell me we've got a damned leak…' he thought reaching down and feeling the consistency of filthy oil on the floor. 'Damn that Louie! How many times do I have to tell him to make sure the lid is tight on the bucket before he brings the crap to the holding tank! The little shit isn't going to have a job much longer if he doesn't learn to clean up after himself… he's gonna get someone a cracked head one of these days…' he shook his head and climbed the rest of the stairs cautiously.
'That's weird, usually I can see the streetlights from here,' he thought as he felt his toe hook under something that shouldn't have been there. He felt himself lurch and stumble and heard a grunt from the floor as he caught himself before falling onto his face.
"Man! What the hell's wrong with you?" he cursed angrily, 'drunk again! for the love of God pass out on the couch like a normal person!' he turned the switch on the light that sat on the break room table and looked around the loft, his brows furrowed in a complete lack of understanding. It looked like someone had gone berserk with spray paint in the most unusual burnt red color. "What the…" air 'whoosh'ed from his lungs as he turned back to the doorway and saw something he couldn't quite wrap his brain around. It looked like someone had taken the innards of a cow or a bear or some other large animal and left them in a huge bloody heap on the middle of the floor. A faint pulsing shimmer in the midst of the pile caught his attention followed by a glistening wet billowing of what could only be lung tissue could be seen coming to rest up against the membrane of the diaphragm in an effort to take a breath.
He felt himself tighten in several key places at once. His bowels, his guts and his balls all seemed to squeeze tight as if cinched in a vise and he wondered if he was going to throw up as the scent of hot copper and human waste finally hit him square on.
"Oh my god!" he breathed moving to the remains of his partner. 'How did I not smell it?' he asked himself and noticed that his partner had one good eye remaining that was trying to get his attention. 'Why doesn't he just say something?' the insane thought flitted through his mind then he realized the full impact of what it meant, 'how can he still be alive?' he also noticed that there was no jawbone left on what remained of the mans' skull. 'Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing… they tore him apart without damaging most of the major vessels… he was left alive like this on purpose… my God what kind of man could do such a thing? What kind of sick fuck could do this to another human being?'
The closer he looked the more he saw, his partners' flesh seemed to have been torn apart and mostly off, the skin that he could see had been left was little more than tattered scraps of flesh fluttering with each gasping breath he took.
"Who did this?" he asked trying to keep his gorge from exploding. Finally his partner caught his eye silently and flicked a look over his shoulder and behind him. All at once his skin tightened even further and he would've sworn his balls just climbed back up into his body. Though he didn't believe in monsters, there was no other way to describe the kind of person who could do this kind of damage and still leave a victim alive. He could feel something of life saving importance beating desperately at the walls of his awareness, but he didn't believe in monsters.
He rose and grasped the jacket of the assailant with a speed he'd long since thought he'd forgotten, and found himself locking eyes with him. He didn't know what he expected to see in those eyes that held his, perhaps the shadow of something monstrous, insane or even completely inhuman, what he didn't expect to see was the absolute normalcy before him. Surely anyone who could do something so heinous must be at least a little mad.
The scant distance between them shifted abruptly, torquing and stretching until he could see the entire form of his own son bathed in blood and seemingly oblivious to it as that face he knew so well smiled widely at him.
His heart beat slowed in pure dismay as the rear wall of his awareness exploded and he heard his own voice screaming, "He's not your son he's your brother!"
BOBBY'S HOUSE.
Laura's eyes opened as she breathed deep, confused only for a split second as Bobby smiled wanly at her,
"Y'okay now?" he asked.
"Yeah," she nodded swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up fast, wincing in pain as she did so.
"John…" she said thickly and shambled to the back room with Bobby in tow, unsure of what was happening.
At the doorway they could see John's eyes moving tightly beneath his closed lids, his left hand clenched into a fist and his breathing had definitely sped up.
Laura moved to his side and checked his vitals then leaned down and said very clearly to him, "John, come on! Wake up!" she urged firmly while tapping his cheeks gently. She was well aware that he could certainly keep dreaming while remaining in a coma but she felt as if he were trying to swim up from the depths.
"John! I said get up!" she ordered more clearly and looked at Bobby who shrugged.
"The boys're coming to see you buck-o, don't you wanna see them? See how they're doin? Y'can't do that if you're unconscious man…" he added.
They met eyes again and shrugged.
"Come on John, they need you!" she pleaded once more and shook her head, "Listen to me, they're going to be here by lunchtime, you will be awake do you hear me?" she instructed wondering if his huge sense of guilt over what he'd done while possessed was keeping him down. Usually anyone she'd tried to influence like this would've been finishing up with physical therapy by now.
She'd been able to sense the depth of his guilt and self recrimination since she'd witnessed what they'd been through and what Big Bad had done and said to his boys while in John's skin. She knew he hated himself for not being able to stop it from hurting them, or even from taking him over, and though she'd told him over and over it wasn't his fault, and no one could've stopped it, and that the boys only wanted him back, she still felt like he wasn't listening.
LATER.
Dean got out of the car closing the door as softly as possible. Sam was finally getting some restful sleep and he didn't want to disturb him. Dean knew his brother was unnerved by his sudden recovery and truth be told, if the situation was reversed he would've been too.
As he squeezed the gas pump nozzle he was still trying to figure out how to explain to Sam that yesterday's action was just a by-product of finally feeling normal again. The last thing he wanted was to give him something more to worry about, 'the kid's got enough on his shoulders…' he thought knowing that Sam's nightmares had gone through quite a change since the cabin incident. It wasn't just visions and headaches and missions, '…oh my…', Sammy had begun to indulge in the weighty assumption that he was the cause for all of their family problems, for what happened to Mom and Jess, and now to their Dad, but as if that wasn't enough guilt to shoulder needlessly, he'd begun to wallow in the sense that every second that ticked by that he didn't find and kill this demon made him responsible for every family the thing went after. He let Sam think he was succeeding in hiding the regular nightmares from him but Dean had noticed. It was his job to notice, and when the time came he would have to straighten Sam out, again.
'I wish I could take this from you Sam… I wish you didn't have to feel this pain…' he felt his compassion give a little squeeze. Even if he could take the burden from Sam, he doubted Sam would let him. 'He might though,'
The pump latch flicked against his curled hand and he gave it one last squeeze before heading inside for some snacks and coffee.
At the register he looked at his brother's sleeping head tilted against the window and cocked a half smile as the early morning shadows began to shorten with the rising of the sun.
The clerk slid the credit card slip across the counter at him and as he lowered his eyes to sign it he caught a fleeting bar of shadow pass over Gray Betty's side. He looked up again and saw Sammy shift position, his brow furrowed slightly but he couldn't say why. 'Imagination… you don't get overtime pay… knock it off…' he reprimanded himself, after all his guts weren't twisting the way they usually did when something was wrong with his family.
Back in the car Sam started waking slowly as Dean turned the engine over and pulled out onto the road. In an uncharacteristic moment he patted Sam's shoulder, "Go back to sleep Sammy… it's okay."
In response the youngest Winchester moaned and rolled his head before floating back into the abyss.
BOBBY'S HOUSE.
"Dean!"
The hoarse guttural howl from the back room made both of them jump as though electrified.
"John!" they gasped together though Laura was faster to turn and run through the hall to the room.
"Hold on there tiger…" she urged racing to him to help support him as he tried to force his way up.
"Who the hell're you? Get away from me! Where're my boys…!" his eyes fell on his longtime friend moving into the room, "Bobby… Dean, Sammy, where are they?" he demanded croaking as he feebly tried to shove Laura away.
Getting the hint she stepped back letting Bobby sit at the edge of the bed while she went and got a glass of water for him.
She sat at the kitchen table letting Bobby fill him in on everything that had happened in the last two months. John's questions were rock hard and militaristic and Bobby's responses were an easy buzz that had a lulling effect as he helped his friend put the pieces back together so he could see the whole picture.
She stayed in the kitchen, waiting patiently until she head a sharp expletive and heard Bobby call for her.
"Yeah?" she asked poking her head around the door jamb.
"Can you… that is… he wants to…" Bobby stammered, "that is if he can walk…"
"Ah…" she nodded grinning and actually blushed meeting John's eyes, "You're going to be unsteady but your muscles are still pretty well toned…" she looked over her shoulder at Bobby, "You wanna step out?"
"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it myself…" John grumbled.
"Uh yeah I don't think so…" she drawled as Bobby shut the door, "I'm the one who put it in, you got nothing I haven't seen…"
It was John's turn to blush as she efficiently removed his catheter then draped his arm across her shoulders to help him stand. "You go right ahead and lean on me, I won't let you fall," she assured him softly barely feeling the stabbing in her chest walls with the added weight. Bobby opened the door and stepped back.
"Hmm. Thanks," he muttered awkwardly. What he needed was time to digest everything Bobby had told him and this unfamiliar woman's presence wasn't helping matters.
"Bobby you wanna hang out and give him a hand? I get the feeling a familiar face will help more than I can…" she asked making sure John had a firm grip on the sink with one hand before she partially closed the door leaving him alone.
"Sure… what's up?" Bobby asked. Something in her face told him something was wrong. She'd put so much energy into caring for John that Bobby couldn't help but feel a little irked by his behavior, 'Ungrateful S.O.B. no wonder I almost filled your ass with buckshot!'
"Nothing," she lied, "he just needs time to get used to all that's happened."
He knew she was lying and she knew that he knew it, but he let her step back.
"Look, I'm gonna go to Tiny's see how he's doing with Metallicar, it would be nice if they could take her back today y'know?"
"Then what?" he asked suspiciously wondering what she'd do to keep herself away from these three men he knew she cared so much for. He also wanted to be able to point Dean in the right direction if he asked where she was. He had a feeling there was something between them but for the life of him he couldn't figure out exactly what it was; camaraderie? sympatico? love? empathy? whatever it was, it was a very annoying white elephant that he was quite frankly tired of walking around and ignoring. Whatever it was he hoped they'd find a way to deal with it. 'big juicy wad o'business… they need to figure it out… that's for sure,' he nodded to himself.
TINY'S GARAGE.
"Wha'sa matter?" he asked while Laura sat wiping at Dean's dried blood all over the back seat. The brown plastic looking flakes a familiar sight to her. The pain he must've felt when that Demon was slowly exploding him, she was now familiar with, even if on a lesser scale.
"Just thinkin'," she muttered rubbing tears into the peroxide solution as they fell.
"That's not good for you y'know? I heard a report the other day... " he watched carefully and recognized at once the obligatory smile she plied him with. It was the same one she used to give him when he tried to distract her from Morgan's shenanigans. One day he was going to have to hang up his dream of being a comedian. She was a tough crowd.
She knew Dean would be ecstatic when he saw his baby. Sam and John would be happy as well and although she was glad for them, she also knew it meant no more reason to see them. No more chances to feel that wholeness she felt around the eldest son.
'No more Morgan even… he's finally free of the curse, at least I could do that for him… no one left… no… don't think of it… God don't let yourself feel it Laura… please… it's too late, I already know what it is I'm going to miss… once they leave I'll echo like the tin man in a hail storm… poor Bobby, he won't understand,' her breath wheezed laboriously within her as she continued to scrub and rinse the stains from Metallicars upholstery while the same thoughts whirred incessantly in her mind shearing another layer from her heartwith each pass.
ABOUT AN HOUR AWAY FROM BOBBY'S HOUSE.
'Stop Stop STOP!' he heard his mind screaming non-stop now until he thought the top of his head was going to pop right off. 'I can't! I can't see him! I heard his voice and it's all I can do to keep my hands on the wheel… I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this… I want to see my dad! He tried to kill me! That was the demon you know that! Those things he said… They lie! They also tell the truth! I can't…' he hadn't been aware of it but as this war waged within him Dean had lifted his foot slowly from the accelerator and was now pulling to the shoulder of the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as a terror more pure than anything he'd ever felt seemed to swarm buzzing all around him. 'This is worse than flying!... This is worse than crashing! I can't…'
"Dean? Dean what is it?" Sam asked noting the chalk white of his brothers' face and the death grip he had on the steering wheel. It looked like he was actually bending the thing. "Dean what's wrong!" he asked again feeling his heart take off at a raging gallop, 'Oh my God what's wrong? What's wrong with him? Please… Dean… holy crap he's shaking! This can't be happening… I think I'm going to throw up… wah wah your needs… he's having apanic attack… Dean doesn't panic! Never! Well okay plane trips don't count and he still dealt…' he reached out, uncertain if he should touch him or not. Dean taken by surprise could be fatal.
"Dean…Dean… please…" he said softly, laying his hand on his brothers' arm with one hand while putting the car into park with the other, "… it's okay it's me…let go of the wheel…" 'My God he's soaked to the skin…' "Come on Dean… work with me here," he pleaded watching his brothers' clothes turn glossy and dark with sweat that seemed to come from everywhere. The hollow of his throat seemed to be vibrating his heart was beating so fast and though his breathing was sporadic it was deep like he was running a marathon in his head.
'I won't do it… I won't let him do it again… he tried to kill me… he just wants me out of the way… I have to protect Sammy… it's what I do… it's my job… I have to keep him away from Sammy… but he's our DAD! He won't hurt us he's family… maybe it didn't leave him… maybe it's still in there… biding its time… waiting to get us close… oh God the pain…I won't survive that again…'
"Dean don't make me smack you!" Sam warned as he watched his brother turn waxy and his lips start to turn blue from oxygen deprivation. He hadn't taken even a shaky breath in over a minute and a half, surely it hadn't taken any longer than that to wrestle him from the drivers' seat and onto the shoulder of the road, and to top it off, he was corpse cold. "Damnit Dean!" he yelled and slapped him as hard as he could.
'Hey dumbass Sammy wants you…' Little Awareness Guy said from behind the maelstrom of fear rioting in his head, 'You might want to try breathing too… it's just a thought…'
Dean gasped and choked as air rushed into his lungs and his head began to pound, 'tell the guy with the jackhammer to lay off already…' he could feel a wet heat at his back and wondered why everything was blue, until he realized he was on his back and looking up at the sky. The air burned his lungs and throat and felt arctic cold. He became aware in increments that something had gone wrong. He was freezing and soaked and thirsty for a gallon of water first then a gallon of beer. 'What the hell?'
"Dean?" Sammy's face popped into view.
'He looks worried… wonder what happened?'
"Dean? Talk to me… keep breathing and talk to me…"
'Keep breathing? why wouldn't I be breathing?' Dean opened his mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about but a chill snapped his teeth down hard on his tongue and he wondered if it was bleeding. "Ow… damnit," he grunted, "Sammy? What's goin' on? What happened? Why am I soaked? and cold?"
To add to his befuddlement Sam grinned and chuckled and to his ultimate embarrassment actually wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. 'Aaaaarrrrrggh! What's he doing?' "Get off me man… what's wrong with you?" he snarled pushing Sam off him.
"I should be asking you that…"
"What do you mean?"
"Well either you just had a massive panic attack or you went into a fugue…"
"A what?... why am I wet?" he asked and felt his eyes widen with a horrible potential for complete mortification. 'please tell me I didn't…'
"You broke out into this sweat man, like you just came up from a swim or something…" he explained thankfully oblivious to Dean's fear though not to the fact that his teeth were chattering and he was still soaked to the skin. "Hold on, lemme get your bag, you gotta put on some dry clothes or you're gonna get sick…"
Sam took a last quick assessment, his color was almost back to normal and he was breathing regularly as he sat against Gray Betty's side apparently without a clue as to what had just happened. Sam moved quickly to the trunk and opened Dean's bag grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for him to change into. As he drew out the t-shirt he noticed his finger had wrapped around something brittle and crusty and part of him scowled as he pulled it out.
At first he thought it was a rag or something but the steel blue beneath the crusted brown told him it was one of Dean's favorite shirts. He could hear Dean's shoes scraping on the gravel as he got up and started coming toward the trunk but Sam still couldn't move. Instead he continued to dig deeper into Dean's bag and came up with the pair of jeans he'd been wearing yesterday. He felt his stomach turn when he saw that they too were half stiff and covered in blood. They were so soaked in fact that in places they hadn't dried so it felt like wet cardboard in his hands.
"Sammy give me a towel will ya…" he asked coming around to the Betty's rear and looking into the trunk, at first not quite understanding what he was seeing, but in a moment his face contorted in confusion, "Dude what the hell did you do to my jeans?" his eyes next saw the t-shirt, "Oh man… I loved this shirt… what the hell did you do?"
"What did I do? You were the one who was driving last night Dean…these aren't even dry yet…" Sam said hotly, his voice low but thick with suspicion.
"Dude, You were the one driving… remember I woke up around 3:30,told you to pull over so I could take a leak?" Dean reminded him.
"Yeah… then we traded places and you took over driving… did we stop somewhere?" he asked.
"Don't you look at me like that! I didn't do anything, and I sure as hell didn't do anything that would result in that!" Dean nearly yelled defensively. He'd never really noticed it before but his brother could have a seriously penetrating gaze if he wanted to.
"Answer the question Dean… did we stop somewhere?" Sam asked.
"We stopped for gas… I got some coffee and snacks just before sunrise…"
"We gotta get a paper," Sam muttered softly.
"Sammy I did not hurt anyone!" Dean insisted though a little less vehemently now, it was the jeans that he'd been wearing yesterday, and his t-shirt, and they were soaked and stiff with what they both knew was blood. Whose it was, remained to be determined but if Dean could have one fugue, who's to say this was the first? 'First thing first… I need to get into some dry clothes that's for sure… Damn I'm cold…' he shook his head and headed around to the passenger side of the road just in case another car came along while he was changing. 'God please let there be a simple explanation for this, please don't let me be a murderer, please,' he begged.
'Please God don't let him be a murderer,' Sam pleaded inwardly while Dean moved around to the side of the car to change, 'there has to be a logical explanation for this…for the clothes, for the dream… I mean I dreamed I was Dad and it was his old partner at the garage in Lawrence, and we're nowhere near Lawrence so…but it was so… vivid and it was his face… and not like the shape shifter in St. Louis, even there I felt something different, a different kind of vibe… God tell me my brother isn't a psychopath…' his stomach flipped and his hands curled around the lip of the trunk, 'maybe he's possessed… okay if that's the case I can work with that….but I don't think this is any little phantom traveler type demon… no little Christo for this one… It's going to have to be holy water…' he thought and wrapped his hand around the plastic pint Dean had brought on the plane that time. 'But I practically soaked dad with holy water when we rescued him and it didn't phase the demon inside him, it was that powerful… Maybe both will have an effect…'
"Sam!" Dean called from the passenger side seconds before he could hear is boots crunching gravel once more as he seemed to be walking around the car, "Hey Sammy did you see my pendant?" there was almost a hint of desperation in his voice.
Sam heard what he said but was so focused on his racing heart and the oddly hopeful idea that his brother was possessed that the meaning didn't sink in.
"Huh?" he muttered fingering his way through the pages of John's journal to try and find an exorcism that would leave his brother in tact. He could hear Dean's footsteps coming around from the drivers side and he prepared himself as best as he could.
"Dude did you see…" he didn't finish the sentence. His mouth filled with bitterness as Sam doused him with holy water, the spray getting up his nose and into his eyes making them sting as he heard him say,
"Christo!"