Disclaimer: Your disclaimer's so fat that when they wrote it, it like… yeah…
Chapter 4 - Symptoms
"Actually, before Sam left the NYSTLA building I invited him and Kirsten over to dinner."
"Did they… did they not make it?" asked Dean, all hope leaving him now. He was sitting in the living room of a large house belonging to a lawyer named Alex McQuail. He was a tall black man in his mid-thirties with what seemed to be a constant look of concern and anxiety in his dark brown eyes.
Dean had met him in his previous visit to New York, since Sam and him were quite close friends. Dean had taken a like to him immediately, and after a few beers with him and Sam they were all best friends. However, at the moment he couldn't care less who he was talking to, as long as the man had the answers Dean so desperately needed.
Alex seemed a little confused by Dean's question, and he shook his head.
"No, they did, they did." Dean's glazed eyes seemed to revive a little with newfound hope. "But uh… I think something happened to him before we even had a chance to sit at the dining table. But dude, I was actually gonna give you a call, I thought you would know about this."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well he got a call on his cell phone and said it was from you, but he kept getting only static, he said. After that he looked anxious throughout dinner and Kirsten didn't seem to understand what was going on any more than I did."
Dean's heart was pounding as he listened to the man.
He hadn't phoned Sam in two weeks.
Now he was sure whatever had Sam was definitely not human and it knew about the Winchesters. It knew Sam would always come for Dean if he were in trouble.
"Then his phone rang again and this time he got through 'cause when he came back in the room he grabbed the poor girl and pretty much ran out of the house. And I haven't seen him since," he finished sadly.
"Did he say anything else? Did he say where he was going?"
"I was hoping you would know, man, you were the one who called both times!"
"So he didn't say anything?"
"Actually, I heard him say to Kirsten as he went out that they had to get to Averill Park. I went there myself after Miranda called to ask me if I knew where he was, but there was nothing there. Did they never actually get to the park?"
"What? Oh, uh, no they didn't that's why I got worried in the first place," invented Dean. "Alright. Thanks, man." He stood up, but his knees failed him and he ended up back on the seat.
"Man, are you okay?" asked Alex concerned, standing up to help him. "You look as pale as a ghost, do you want anything?"
"I'm fine… just… long day, you know?"
"C'mon, I'll drive you back to your hotel. Where did you say you were staying?"
"Dude, relax, I can drive."
"I don't think so, not now. Which hotel, Dean?"
"Sheraton," he mumbled.
"52nd Street?"
"Yeah."
Dean allowed his friend to take him back, but he wouldn't lose a moment. After falsely promising to rest, he rushed to the hotel computer room and looked for anything he could find to do with Averill Park. After looking for a few minutes he found a small article that caught his eye.
Apparently, a girl had drowned in a pond behind Averill Park High School about four years ago and since then people had reported glowing lights behind the forest line and also feeling a presence at the limits of the high school grounds. There was nothing there about people disappearing if they approached the place though, in fact, it seemed to be a passive, friendly ghost.
Frustrated, he sighed and turned off the computer. Dean figured there was no point in going out now unless he wanted to pass out in the middle of the road and get himself killed without accomplishing anything.
Dean forced his body through the lobby and up the elevator. He entered his room not bothering to turn on the lights even though it was starting to get dark and looked for the box of Panadols. He sat on his bed and sighed again, swallowing the tablets and taking his mobile phone in his hand to check for missed calls. He had two. Both from Nacha.
He smiled slightly and pressed the button to call back. At once, he heard his wife's sweet and beloved voice.
"Hello?"
"Hey there!"
"Dean! Nice of you to check in."
"Yeah, sorry I've been busy. How are you? How's the midget?"
"We're doing good, though Andrew insists on following me absolutely everywhere 'cause you told him to take care of me… So you got anything?"
"I think I've got a lead, actually," he replied laughing. "Remember Alex McQuail?"
"Yeah?"
"He saw them the night they disappeared and apparently before they left, Sam had said I called him from Averill Park."
"You're kidding," she said understanding what that meant.
"Yeah, I think we got an angry ghost that lured him there but I can't get why."
"What do you mean?"
"The ghost seemed to be a passive one, it had never attacked before. Plus, how the hell did it know to imitate me? How did it even know about me?"
The line went dead. His phone had turned itself off and as much as Dean tried to turn it on, it was useless. He remembered the battery had been low before.
"Son of a bitch," he said aloud.
Dean shivered involuntarily and lay down on the bed wrapping his arms around his torso against the cold, too tired to even get under the covers and knowing that if he did, he would get too hot. What was it with this hotel and air conditioner? He was freezing from head to toe but deep down he knew the hotel had nothing to do with it. It was the fever that he didn't want to blame because accepting that it weakened him could only make him feel helpless. But it was so cold… way too cold for him to stand it.
He tried to shift his weight to open the bed and somehow pull the covers over him but his body was suddenly too heavy and he couldn't move a muscle. The cold was increasing unnaturally and there was nothing he could do.
What the hell was going on? He was a hundred percent positive that the Canisolus' poison wasn't fatal. Then, what was happening to him? Maybe there were facts about the creature he had never known. Was the poison paralyzing him? Maybe he should have investigated more before going on the hunt. Maybe he should have listened to his wife earlier. Maybe he should have stopped hunting the moment Andrew was born; the moment he had gained something to lose.
He closed his eyes, not that he could see anything before, and thought of Andrew and Nacha. His heart felt heavy and broken.
He would never see them again.
A/N: Hey again! Thanks again for the reviews; you guys are so nice lol! Bit of a short one there but I promise the real action starts on the next chapter, which I've already written. Your comments are obviously extremely appreciated so keep 'em up, you hot hot babes! Thank you so much for reading.
Random Note: Oh wow. I had no idea Jensen Ackles wore glasses. And he looks damn hot wearing them too lol… but pretty boy just has to wear contacts doesn't he…
