Chapter 8

He watched curiously as the dark haired, mop topped young man casually strolled through the small graveyard seemingly without a care in the world, walking up and down row after row of burial plots until he finally came to a stop at the headstone that garnered his own interest, and watched him looking around as he walked back to his car, which he'd suspiciously parked a block away and started rummaging through the trunk, obviously up to no good. He could tell by the look on the kids face that he meant trouble, and knew he was right when he popped back into view, strolling back inside and shooting out the floodlight with his childish weapon like the vandal he thought the punk to be. Figuring him to be some stupid fraternity pledge with something to prove or an order to follow, he just crouched in the bushes and waited patiently for him to leave.

Watching as he got back into the old, black beast of a car he'd gotten there in and took off like there was going to be no tomorrow for him, he finally stood, his legs numb from the squatting stance he'd been in the entire time the kid had been roaming around the cemetery looking for only god knows what. He tried shaking the feeling back into his legs unsuccessfully, and just decided to wait until the pins and needles that had already started jabbing at him finally worked their way out and he could walk like a person again and not like a caveman.

With the feeling finally returned to his limbs, he emerged from the bushes onto the quiet street, it having really nothing but the small graveyard and a few select houses that were spread relatively far apart, all owned by a Waterson of some kind. Hell, the cemetery was pretty much theirs too, the only non-blood Waterson bodies buried in it bound to them by marriage only, one way or another. After looking both ways carefully, he crossed the street quickly, and made his way directly to the plot of his choice, not needing to search for it. No, he knew right where it was, he'd been there when they'd put her in the ground all those weeks ago. As a matter of fact, he'd been the one to put her in the ground in the first place.

As he stared at the name on the stone slab in front of him, he thought back to that fateful night, it filling his heart with sadness and excitement all at the same time, irrevocably changing his life forever. He hadn't meant to kill her, not really. He did love her after all, but she was so whiny, so needy, and so irritating after she'd gotten sick, and the parents doting on her like she was the only thing in the world that existed to them made him sick himself. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally ill every time they were all together, it driving him to drink on a regular basis. They'd been at the family home for only a few weeks when the tensions finally reached the breaking point, her constant belittling of him and bickering with him finally causing him to break, and as his large, strong hands reached behind her head and grabbed a fistful of her long, blonde hair, he yanked it back with enough strength to pull a handful of it out, then drove it forward with all the force he had into the steering wheel of the car she'd come to pick his drunk ass up in from whichever bar he'd been in that night after he'd called, knowing she wasn't allowed to drive, but begging her come get him anyway. The shot to her head sending her mind into a darkened haze, he'd triggered a seizure in her with the trauma to her head, and as her body flailed in the drivers seat right before his eyes, he just watched and waited until it was over, feeling nothing but, well, nothing. He was so sick and tired of her he just didn't care anymore, and when the jerking had finally stopped, he'd grabbed her by the head once again and drove her chest into the wheel instead, hoping the motion would stop her heart and she'd just die. She never knew what hit her.

She didn't die though, she just started coughing up blood as her body started twitching again, not from a seizure but from something else altogether. Watching as she was slowly losing her life, he reached behind her one final time and drove her into the wheel with all the strength he had, finally ending her suffering, and his as well. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked at her limp, bloody form, and instead of feeling guilt and remorse, he felt excitement and exhilaration. Not only had he just killed her, he'd enjoyed killing her. It made him feel alive for the first time in his entire life to watch the life leave her body, knowing that he had been the one to take it, and he knew right then and there that he wanted, needed, to do it again.

It would have to wait though, because he knew he'd have to find a way to hide what he'd just done, the murderous act sobering him up fast as he worked through the plan he'd already thought up in his head. Climbing from the passenger side of the large, luxury sedan, he came around to the drivers side, opened the door, and slid her still bleeding corpse over enough for him to get behind the wheel, and as he situated himself on the seat, her head rolled to the side and laid itself against his shoulder. He liked the way it felt there, heavy and lifeless, lifeless because of him, and as he turned over the engine and took off down the road, he leaned his own head against the top of hers, smelling her hair mixed with blood for what he knew would be the last time, grateful to finally be rid of her.

He knew just what to do, and heading to the darkest, least used stretch of road at night he could think of, he pulled the car to the shoulder, killing the engine and getting out to climb back into the passenger seat. He shoved her back behind the wheel, her chest and face now fully covered in blood as it still trickled from her lips and started the engine back up, hands on the wheel and feet awkwardly depressing the brake as he put it into drive and slid his foot from the brake to the gas, the car jerking forward as he gave it just a little too much. It accelerated slowly at first, but the harder he pressed the pedal, the faster the vehicle went, it's weaving left and right uncontrollable from the position he was in. He had the car up over forty when he heard her moan, her body being not quite as dead as he thought it to be and decided to hit the next large tree he saw, never seeing the guy walking in the roadway until it was too late, hitting him and sending him flying through the air before he overcorrected the boat of a car and hit the oversized oak all the way on the other side of the highway. The airbag failing to deploy had been dumb luck, but the lack of a seatbelt had not been as her body flew forward into the steering wheel yet again, this time killing her without a doubt. Blood had flew from her lips as she bit through her tongue, a huge chunk of it falling into his lap as she finally, mercifully, unceremoniously died. His airbag and seatbelt had protected him, the lap belt in the center seat that he'd opted to buckle, just in case, stopping his forward motion enough to save him from any injury other then sore muscles and bones. He was pretty sure the alcohol had helped a little too, it's effects not as worn off as he previously thought they'd been.

He sat and stared at her now completely dead body as he let his somewhat drunken thoughts clear, her blood flow finally stopped, the crimson stains on her clothes a thing of beauty to him as they formed circular patterns on the fabric. He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket in search of his cell, finally finding it not in the coat but the pants, and flipped it open, activating the little camera inside and taking a quick snapshot of his crowning achievement. He looked at her lovingly one last time, noting the little piece of her that had fallen into his lap and morbidly tucking it into his pocket, wanting to keep just one, little memento of her to remember her by. He kissed her softly on the cheek before exiting the car as the sirens wailed in the distance, dropping to the hard ground and taking off into the woods for cover.

He watched transfixed as the scene unfolded before him while he hid behind the trees, the emergency crews roaring up to the carnage and scrambling in different directions. He had a good view from his hidden position and smiled as he saw them pull her lifeless body from behind the wheel, lay it on the pavement and try to unsuccessfully jolt some life back into it, finally breathing a sigh of relief when he'd seen them throw the sheet over her, then load her into the black bag, that being the only pronouncing of death he'd ever need. She was gone, and nobody would ever really know exactly how or why.

He could somewhat see what was going on across the street too, and after several very long minutes, he saw the ambulance take off down the road, lights flashing and siren blaring indicating to him that that poor sucker he'd hit wasn't dead, not yet anyway. He really didn't feel much emotion over that either, the idiot shouldn't have been walking down the dark road in the first place, and if he felt the need to walk in the street, he got what he deserved. Maybe, if time and opportunity warranted, he'd finish him off later too. 'Might be fun', he'd thought, remembering the thrill he'd had just a little while before, and really wanting to feel it again. He also remembered how much he'd enjoyed the feel of the body bouncing off the front fender of the vehicle as he could almost feel the bones crunch inside as he hit the tree, and replayed that over and over in his mind as well. As his thoughts wandered back to the present, he knew that tying up that loose end would be out of the question though, as the condition of his other victim from that night went from grave, to critical, only to improve every day and now he'd even heard the guy was awake. That was ok, he'd amuse himself other ways, and in fact, he already had.

Brushing his fingers over the raised letters of the headstone, he kissed the fingers of his other hand and gave the stone a gentle pat as he dropped the single pink rose he'd brought with him on the ground at the base, and turned to leave. He walked back to his own car, which he himself had suspiciously parked a block away in the other direction, and climbed behind the wheel, turning to check the back seat. Throwing back the blanket that had been spread out across the seat and floor, he watch in awe at the sight of the beautiful blonde woman wedged between the back of his seat and the seats in the back. She was bound and gagged, but unnecessarily as she'd been unconscious since he'd decided to take her, his need to relive that night once again unable to resist.

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Sam's driving at near lightning speed to get back to the hospital had been absolutely unnecessary as his two hour absence had gone totally unnoticed by everyone, his brother still sleeping completely undisturbed by anyone by the time he had returned. In fact, Dean's sleep had been so sound, he still hadn't moved from the position he'd been in most of the night, and Sam was glad to see it, although the occasional twitch of an eye or crinkle of his forehead made Sam wonder if he should try to wake him from whatever was going on in his head or just let him sleep. He figured as long as nothing got too out of control, he'd leave Dean be for now.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket over the back of the chair in the corner of the room and plopped himself down on his bed as he ran his mind through the plan he'd thought up for the day. One way or another, he needed to keep everyone out of this room until he and Bobby could finish what the now very dead Trish Waterson had unwittingly started. Even if she decided to grace Dean with her presence once again today, at least nobody would be around to see it, and once they took care of her, he was pretty sure it wouldn't be an issue anymore, and Dean could recuperate in peace, at least he hoped that to be the case. He stared at the ceiling as he thought, the dim light in the room from the partially uncovered windows the only thing keeping his eyes open now as he realized he was just a little tired and maybe now would be a good time to get a little sleep. Dean would probably be out for a while still, drugs just have that effect on people sometimes. He closed his eyes and let his mind go blank, much needed sleep coming to him easily as he drifted away.

The noise from the hallway woke Sam not long after he'd fallen into that light sleep, the morning delivery of his brother's breakfast being quietly placed on the bedside tray when it was noticed that Dean was still out like a light. Sam rose from comfortable position he'd been in and wondered if he'd ever be allowed to sleep again for more then a few minutes or hours at a time, acknowledged the fact that breakfast had been served, and watched as the person delivering it turned and silently left, leaving Sam to decide whether or not to wake his brother or just let him sleep. Looking at what was on the tray in front of him, he deemed it not worthy of disturbing Dean right now, and even though he knew his brother hadn't eaten in a while, and what he had eaten last hadn't stayed down anyway, it just wasn't worth hearing the bitching and complaining he'd be subjected to as the selection of the day was placed before him, it all looking like baby food anyway. Sam just covered it with a napkin and went back to his own bed, trying once again to get just a few minutes of sleep.

Sleep he got too. His eyes opened to the bright sunlight that had fallen on his face, the sun well over the building and shining right through the uncovered portion of the window as it landed directly on him, the natural warmth on his skin refreshing. It was well into the afternoon, and as Sam tried to focus his eyes on his watch, he was shocked to see it was well after 1 p.m. He'd been asleep for almost five hours, and still, not a word or sound from Dean. He didn't know if he should be grateful for the long, uninterrupted rest his brother had gotten, or be concerned at the fact that he still hadn't awoke yet, and decided he better try to rouse him. He'd been out for ten hours now, and even being doped up, that was pushing it. He crossed the room and noticed that breakfast had been silently replaced with lunch, the meal on the try a little more appetizing then the one from this morning, at least in Sam's opinion. Letting his eyes fall to his brother's face, he could see that nothing had changed, if anything Dean looked peaceful and almost relaxed in his slumber. Sam hated waking him, but knew he had to.

"Dean, wake up," he told his brother, giving him a gentle nudge as he spoke. It went mostly ignored as Dean groaned but said nothing, not wanting to come out of the sleep state he was currently in.

"Come on Dean, wake up. You need to eat something," he told him again, this time nudging not so gently, Sam knowing he'd be face to face with an angry bear that would probably want to rip his head off any second, but continued anyway.

"Go away Sam, I'm not hungry," he mumbled back groggily, his hold on the sleep he was enjoying being lost the more Sam spoke to him. He really wasn't hungry, and he didn't want to come out of it, he didn't want to join the waking world right now, because he knew if he did, she would just start hounding him again. At least when he was asleep, she pretty much left him alone. So in a sleep state he just wanted to stay until Sam could take care of her tonight, and all of his problems would be solved. Too bad Sam didn't have the same idea.

"You may not be hungry, but you have to eat something," Sam informed him. It was so unlike his brother to just want to hang out in oblivion all day with no awareness of what was going on around him. "Do you feel alright?" He asked Dean, the obviously next logical question to pose. Maybe all that sleep hadn't really helped all that much.

"I'm fine Sam, just not hungry. Just want to sleep, that's all," he complained, knowing now that it just wasn't going to happen his way since he was pretty much fully awake at this point, and pretending to be still half asleep wasn't working on Sam. His brother was so insistent sometimes, and it really could be annoying.

"Dean, you can sleep all afternoon and night if you want, but first you're going to wake up and have something to eat. It's not really optional because if the nurses see you haven't touched any food all day, you know they will do something about it."

That was all Dean needed to hear to make him open his eyes and stare at Sam's persistent face as the annoyance of the sunlight glaring into the room made his eyes throb in their sockets. He did still have that damn headache, although not as bad as the night before, but it was still there, lingering. He had a pretty good idea what Sam meant about his lack of eating too, and decided to bite the bullet and just do what he was told, hoping that his mother-hen brother would just leave him alone if he complied. He tried rolling onto his back but just couldn't get his body over the hump that was stopping him, until Sam pulled out the pillow wedged behind him, allowing him to drop flat as his legs crossed over themselves. As hard as he tried, he didn't have the strength to right them, and Sam could see it, silently correcting their position for him as the look of disgust in himself spread across Dean's face. Sam knew what was going through his brother's mind, but unless Dean said something about it, he was just going to stay quiet. What was that about letting sleeping dogs lie? When it came to Dean, that was usually a good idea.

Raising the head of the bed enough for Dean to be semi-upright, he wordlessly slid the tray in front of him and allowed him to eat in silence, every bite of his meal producing a disgusted look on his face. He hated tuna, and Sam knew it, and yet here he sat being forced by his brother to eat a room temperature sandwich, warm applesauce, and something else he really wasn't sure he could even identify, forcing it all down with a tall glass of water and hopefully satisfying Sam enough to be left alone now as he had already requested, knowing he'd never be able to go back to sleep with the somewhat painful lump in his stomach making itself known. He just pushed the tray away and closed his eyes, trying to ignore everything around him. He cringed slightly at the sound of Sam's voice when he finally broke the silence.

"Was that so bad?"

"You really want me to answer that Sam? I'm thinking maybe we should just leave that one alone, ok?"

"Whatever you say big brother," Sam chuckled, victories against Dean few and far between, as he added this one to the list right up at the top. Hoping the change of subject would lighten the mood, Sam decided to let Dean in on the events of his morning. "So, I checked out the cemetery while you were asleep. Should be an easy in/easy out. As soon as Bobby gets here, we'll head out. You think you can control her until then?"

"Have I been able to yet?" He sarcastically asked Sam, knowing he'd never be able to keep her quiet as long as he was awake. Sam had a plan, that was obvious, but Dean had one too. Sam wasn't going to like it, but he didn't care. "When did Bobby say he'd be here?" He asked, trying to calculate the time in his head. He knew he'd been awake for at least an hour now, and it was just a matter of time before she did her thing on him again, and the last thing he wanted right now was to go through another series of painful convulsions. He'd do whatever it took to avoid that again, anything.

"He said he'd be here by dark, why?" Sam could see the look on his brother's face, and it immediately made him suspicious.

"Just curious, that's all," he lied. "Sam, when was the last time you ate something?" He changed the subject, throwing it back onto Sam to avoid any more talk about himself.

"Earlier this morning, why?"

"You should get something to eat too. If you're gonna salt and burn tonight, you shouldn't do it on an empty stomach, right? Besides, I'd kinda like to be alone, for just a little while, you know, clear my head," he hoped he didn't sound like the whiner he was pretty sure was probably coming out, but as long as he could get rid of Sam for just a little while, it really didn't matter.

"Are you trying to get rid of me Dean?" Sam tossed back at him as his brow crinkled, wondering what, exactly, Dean was up to.

"Just want some 'me time', that's all. Half hour, that's it, please."

"Me time? What the hell is 'me time'?" Sam laughed at that request, he'd never heard Dean ever say 'me time' before, but he'd never seen or heard Dean do a lot of the things he'd done recently before and figured this was just another instance of weird behavior caused by the whole situation. He paused for just a moment but didn't wait for Dean to answer. "Ok Dean, I'll give you a half hour of 'me time.' I'll be back in exactly thirty minutes." Sam walked out the door, shaking his head as he went, and made for the elevator.

Dean waited until he was pretty sure Sam would be gone from the floor before summoning one of the nurses, throwing his deception abilities into full force as he convinced the nice, sympathetic caregiver that he still had the migraine from hell and just couldn't stand it anymore, the clutching of his head, the groaning of agony, and the attempts at holding in his lunch convincing her that he was in more pain then he could bear. She'd looked through the records from the night before, and after getting the ok, administered an identical dose of whatever they'd given him that time. As his mind started drifting off into sleep, he saw her standing at his bedside, her mouth moving but nothing coming out, and this time she wasn't alone. Beside her stood a woman that could have been her twin, her long blonde hair and blue eyes resembling hers and making him shiver the longer he looked, his mind finally starting to realize what it was she was trying to tell him. He remembered what she had said, that it wasn't her fault, and that she was dead already, and now there were two of them. He got it now, but it was just a little too late as the drugs took their hold on him, sending him into the sleep that he now desperately didn't want anymore.