He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Chapter Nine – Transformation
Joshua hesitated, trying to find a spot for this last injection, gently feeling Dean's bruised and tender abdomen, his mottled skin showing in Technicolor the extent of the damage already done to his tortured stomach. He took a breath to steady his own nerves as he settled on a spot and proceeded to push the needle firmly in.
Dean rose up four inches as the tender spot objected to the anguish it was being forced to endure. The scream from his lips pierced the stillness when it became painfully evident this spot was not the right spot after all. Already committed, Joshua gritted his own teeth as he continued onward as Sam desperately tried to hold his brother down.
Once the needle was all the way in, Joshua paused for a second, giving Dean a temporary respite. Dean's eyes pleaded with him to just wait, just give him this moment to brace himself for the coming pain. The sweat beaded on his forehead as he anticipated his impending agony. Oh God, I can't take this.
Dean would have preferred just staying like that interminably, just leave the damn needle where it was and for God's sake don't release that burning fire. Joshua smiled at him, lulling him into a peaceful tranquility before suddenly releasing the fluid and once more slowly extracting the instrument of torture.
Dean cried out again, louder and more bloodcurdling then before, but Joshua steeled his nerves and continued, knowing that was his only course of action. Hating the pain Dean was suffering through, yet knowing no other response.
"I'm sorry Dean, that's the last. You won't have to suffer any more of these shots." Joshua consoled.
The tears staining Dean's cheeks were all the response he could muster. His voice lost, still buried deep within him, the torment once more overwhelming. Joshua, knowing he had inflicted his final act of torture, left the brothers alone one more time.
Ten minutes passed and Dean had still not uttered a sound, aside from the rare moan he could no longer suppress. His doleful eyes conveying all the pain trapped deep within his trembling body.
Sam stood silently by his suffering brother, unsure of anything more that would help, save the knowledge he was there and wished he could take on all of Dean's pain himself. His brother had finally completed his twelfth injection and was lying deathly still, as if any movement would send more pain searing through his body.
Suddenly Dean's chest lurched upward and his legs kicked out as an intense seizure wracked his body. The gasp from his mouth was startling as his teeth clenched and his eyes glazed over, staring at the ceiling in horror. His body started to thrust and in an instant had propelled him off the bed, landing face down on the floor.
He was violently shaking and jerking as the massive seizure overtook him sending his mind back down that long, black, expanse of nothing except pain and agony. Sam struggled to turn him over and frantically tried to still the spasms that were threatening to shake his brother's teeth lose.
"Dad, Dad, Joshua, please someone. HELP!" Sam cried out desperately.
John and Joshua both came running, almost colliding at the doorway as they raced to Sam's aid. John stopped frozen in his tracks as the sight of his son flailing on the floor brought all the pain and harsh reality of their situation into sharp focus. No, this can't be happening.
Dean was thrashing on the floor with the wildest, most frantic look in his eyes. His body was violently striking out, hitting Sam and causing welts to form from the impacts.
Once all three men were there, they finally managed to contain the worst of Dean's violent outbursts by controlling the movements of his body, but his mind and inner spasms still embroiled him in the deepest, darkest despair.
His fractured mind only knew the terror and crushing pain of this seizure. The pain and panic overtook his senses and he descended into hell once more. The thrusts of his body raised him up off the floor and then he crashed back down, even the hold of three strong men couldn't totally subdue him.
His cries of anguish were shocking as he yelled out furiously trying to fight off the terror that enveloped him. His mind saw only blackness and peril and his soul shook from the fear that overpowered him. The pain in his joints magnified with every lurch of his body. His body was on fire with torment.
His eyes once more shown wide like saucers as they fixated on invisible terrors that pushed him over the edge into madness. Tears welled in his eyes as the pain consumed him. Even with his dad's strong embrace holding him down, he still rose up time and again, desperately trying to escape his descent into that black abyss of darkness that had been waiting so patiently for too many days.
The horror of this seizure overwhelmed any meager control they had tried to pretend existed, only to now realize his fate was no longer in any of their hands. The werewolf bite was exerting its dominance over his body and mind, and his soul was lost in the vast expanse of the pain within.
The seizure lasted twice as long as the previous one and when its effects finally started to diminish, Dean was catatonic. His body and soul too spent to even attempt to reclaim his mind. He lay there staring at the ceiling, a vacant, empty shell of the man he had once been. Now just a vessel waiting to be filled with evil. Now only waiting for the full moon to once more give him purpose.
John gazed at his son, knowing the end was fast approaching, yet still unable to face that reality. Damn it, there has to be a way. Dean, don't you do this. You fight son, you hear me?
Forty minutes after the first sign of the seizure, Dean again moaned and gasped for air. His body shuddered as his lungs pulled in fresh air to replace the stagnant fumes of this illness. His flickering eyes darted back and forth before once more focusing on the too familiar surroundings. His temporary control once more established as his mind appeared to again return to his wasted body.
"Dean, you there?" John hesitantly asked.
Moments passed until Dean finally spoke his first broken words, his words tinged with a quiet desperation.
"Dad, it's over…. You know it." Sad, resigned eyes pleaded with his dad to just admit defeat this one time, just throw in the towel and let him go with whatever shred of dignity he might still be able to muster. Please Dad, let me go.
"Dean, you hang in there. You hear me? You fight. That's an order."
Dean solemnly looked on his dad's frozen features. He paused for just a second before closing his eyes in a tight squint, taking a ragged breath, and softly uttering, "Yes, sir."
They helped Dean to his shaky feet and gently got him back into bed. Sam stood by silently showing all the emotions they all felt, but were too stoic to acknowledge. John and Joshua left the room and went down the hall to confer on possible alternative treatments, debating once more on options. The harsh, unyielding truth revealing the series of twelve shots had failed to stem the transformation that was beginning and would culminate with the full moon.
"Dean, it'll be all right. Dad will figure this out. Joshua won't give up on you." Sam encouraged.
"Sam, I want to be alone. Just leave me alone." Dean whispered, fear of what was happening driving his request. These foreign feelings building up inside him, threatening to spill beyond his control, filled him with terror. The terror of the unknown and the fear of what he was now capable of.
"No. I'm not going to leave you."
The anger that rose up in Dean shocked him, his spent body suddenly energized by a surge of vigor. He lashed out grabbing his brother's arm as a deep growl emanated from his mouth, a voice unrecognizable even to himself.
"I said leave me alone!"
Sam yelled as his arm was pierced by the long nails protruding from his brother's fingertips. The fresh blood revealed there enflaming his brother's senses, Dean suddenly lusting for the taste of human blood…., the taste of his own brother's blood.
Dean's eyes were fierce and wild for a second before turning away from his brother, fearful and ashamed at his lack of control. Dean felt the beast within him emerging, instilling absolute terror into his weary heart.
"Sammy get out of here now!I don't want to hurt you. Please, just go."
Sam suddenly understood his brother's demand, the look in his brother's eyes finally registering. He stumbled backwards, running for his dad, praying his dad and Joshua could fix this. Oh God, please don't let this happen.
Dean wrapped his hands tightly in the sheets surrounding him, unwilling to accept the changes that were coming over him. Not wanting to acknowledge that he was no longer a man. He was trapped somewhere on the desperate path to becoming an animal, a beast, a monster to be tracked down by hunters such as himself and executed. An evil just waiting to prey on humankind.
Outside down the hall his brother confronted his dad. Angry words lashed out filling the tense air with a deadly vibe of devastation. Dean's heightened hearing registering every hurtful word hurled. The pain of his family embroiled in one more great confrontation, one last bitter fight all because of him, brought more pain to his weary countenance.
"This is your fault. Dean wouldn't be hurt if we didn't go out looking for evil all the time. Did you ever think of that?" Sam yelled in anger and resentment at his obstinate father.
"Sam just shut up."
"No. I want answers. Why do you keep sending us out there? Why would you sacrifice your own son for your stupid vengeance?"
"Sam, we're fighting a war. What else would you do? Let evil win? Just let all those innocents get hurt and do nothing?" John exploded back at his younger son, too weary to fight, yet too stubborn to just walk away.
"It's your war, not ours. I sure as hell wouldn't sacrifice my son for someone I didn't even know."
"I would never sacrifice my son. How can you say that?"
"Yeah? Well, Dean is dying. You sacrificed him, didn't you? This is all your fault."
"My fault? You were with him. Why didn't you kill the damn thing? If you'd followed your training none of this would have happened. Why didn't you stop this?" John lashed out before considering the cruelty of his words. His anger driving his voice before reason intercepted his hurtful words.
Sam looked as though he had been struck through the heart with a flaming dagger, the pain searing his chest and embroiling him in an even deeper level of hell. His eyes filled with tears once more, detest for his father once more consuming him.
"Oh God. Sam, I didn't mean it."
"I hate you."
Sam failed to wait for a response from his dad, he had heard it all before, and he no longer cared what his pathetic excuse for a father had to say in his own defense. With one last look of total contempt he pushed his dad away and ran down the hallway.
John was shattered by the onslaught of his son's fury. His entire body shook from the intense hatred he felt emanating from his younger son, and the fear of the truth of his words. He knew he should go after him, but he just didn't have the time or energy to deal with him now. Dean needed him. His focus had to be on Dean, Sam could wait. Still, his angry words haunted him. Damn it Sammy, how can you think that?
How could he speak those words? How could he believe them? Of course he wouldn't sacrifice his son. He loved his sons more than life itself; he loved his sons more than anyone's life. Don't ever ask him to choose cause he would always choose them and he would do anything to insure they lived. Anything.
His pain at seeing his son suffer and the thought of losing him was all he could think of now. He had barely survived losing Mary and he knew he would not survive losing Dean. He could not watch his son die. I won't!
A father should never have to bury his son, that was not the way it was supposed to be. The impending loss was too incomprehensible to even consider. Damn it! Dean was too strong to die, and John was too stubborn to lose against evil this time. This was not going to happen.
There had to be a way to save him. He was not going to surrender his son to death regardless of the odds. Whatever the bargain or price he would gladly pay it. There has to be a way.
"Joshua, Joshua, where are you?" John stormed through the small cabin until he found his friend once more hard at work in his lab.
"John, what is it?"
"Joshua, I want you to try that shot. I don't care what the odds are. That shot is going to save my son. You hear me, Joshua? You hear me? Dean will not die, not today, not this week, not for a very long time. I won't allow it." John proclaimed.
"John, it's your decision. You know the risks."
"The risk is doing nothing. No way am I going to stand by and watch my son die."