I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
The Invisible Man
Ninety-five percent of him had not wanted to see Norma hurt by that bastard Shelby.
He didn't want to see her in pain, humiliated, or shamed.
The other five percent . . .
See what happens, Norma, when you don't rein in the crazy?
. . . whispered that maybe, finally this time, the message would sink in.
Stop making bad decisions in life, Norma.
Either way, Dylan was being very strategic.
Watching every move. Listening to every nuance of the rat bastard's heavy handed, jackassery speech.
Waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Disarm him.
Take the gun away.
And stop this madness.
And when the time did come, after Norma had been knocked onto the floor and Norman lay unconscious with a head wound, Dylan did.
Almost dying in the process.
But still getting the job done.
Killing Shelby.
I'm racking up some sort of a body count here.
Promising to help Norma protect Norman.
Wow, Sam, huh? No shit?
Not too surprised, though.
He did come after me with a meat tenderizer.
Tell enough of the truth to make it work.
Hide the rest.
And just keep going.
And it still stung.
It still bit and burned when Romero . . .
"Here's what the story's gonna be . . ."
. . . swooped in like a superhero . . .
". . . close in on him at this point . . ."
. . . to take all the credit for everything.
". . . kill Zach Shelby with this gun."
Dylan, painkillers unable to completely take away the pain in his shoulder.
"Oh yeah? And what's this?"
Could not keep his mouth shut.
. . . as Romero changed history to heroically save the day.
"You got in the way."
Wow. That is quite a load of bullshit you're about to get rewarded for, Sheriff.
Damn.
Dylan was understandably pissed.
"That's it?! I risk my life to save all your asses and take that guy down and that's it?!"
Are you serious right now?!
"I got in the way of his showdown?!"
But they didn't care.
Norma and Norman.
They were just happy to be all done with their worries and cares about Zach Shelby and the dead girl in the woods and Keith Summers' belt.
While Dylan had bled and nearly died . . .
Hello?
. . . and, along with basically everyone but Romero, put forth all that effort . . .
Son of bitch, really?
. . . for apparently nothing.
Wow.
And nobody cared but him.
You guys suck.
But later, it was all completely different.
"Don't let Emma know it came from me."
Once again, he had almost died for somebody.
Emma.
Beautiful, purehearted Emma and her CF-ed lungs.
Only this time . . .
"If that's what you want."
. . . he was insisting upon anonymity.
"It is."
And could barely even stomach.
"Dylan. Thank you."
The thought of her finding out.
Thanks to all the silent readers of this story!