The Illusionist Part II
Chapter 3 : Breathe Me
Warnings : Bucket-fulls of angst, allusions of an eating disorder (because being deaf just isn't enough)
Dean was in full out panic mode.
One minute, he was on his way towards the door ready to train for the next three hours (secretly, because if Sam knew, he'd kill him), the next, his little brother was collapsing before his very eyes, almost bringing him down too.
He'd managed to get Sam over to his bed, struggling a bit because his little brother wasn't exactly as light as he looked.
The first thing Dean did was test his brother's blood (three times, no less), but apparently that wasn't the cause of Sam's current fainting incident. The numbers were all within the normal range, so Dean reasoned that low blood sugar wasn't the culprit.
He was clutching his head...but I've never seen a head ache bring him down like this before.
Before his heart could race any faster and his mind could go into panic overload, he saw Sam's eyes crack open, unsure at first, then finally becoming aware of their surroundings.
"Sammy? You okay?" he asked, one hand resting on his brother's slow rising chest.
Immediately, Sam put a hand to his head, massaging his scalp though it was a fruitless effort; the pain was still there. Not as bad as before, but still present. "Yeah, I, uh, think so," he answered, trying not to mumble, but every time he spoke, it made his brain hurt. He forced himself to sit up, though getting past the dizziness soon became challenging. He gripped the sheets with his other hand, but it didn't help; the room was still spinning.
"Why don't you lay back down? Get some rest," Dean suggested, hand still hovering in front of his little brother's chest, ready to push him (gently, of course) back down to the mattress.
"No, I'm fine-"
"You don't look fine, Sam. Here," he said, handing him a glass of water and a few pills. "Sorry it's from the tap and not one of those fancy little bottles you're used to drinking out of."
Sam smiled a little at that and ever-so-hesitantly took the aspirin and water from Dean's hands. He tilted his head back slightly and popped the medicine in, downing the liquid afterward. He grimaced at the taste of the water, it falling somewhere between nasty and out-right awful. He reluctantly accepted Dean's advice, and laid back.
"Need anything else? Teddy bear? Chocolate on your pillow?" Dean cracked, his lips quirked to one side.
Sam rolled his eyes, but still let a smile creep across his lips. "No. No, I'm fine, thanks."
Dean nodded and reached to turn off the lamp nearest Sam's bed when his younger brother grabbed his wrist, gently, no less. It still made Dean freeze; Sam could feel the muscles in his wrist tighten, even through the two or three layers he was wearing. The older hunter immediately looked down at his little brother, green eyes only showcasing the slightest hint of fear.
"I'm sorry."
Dean stared at the brunette for a moment, expression changing from masked to confused. "For what?"
"For earlier. I-"
Dean cut him off, easing his arm away and holding his hand out in front of him. "Dude, no chick-flick stuff. It's cool. Don't worry about it."
Sam clenched his jaw. He wasn't in the mood to argue, not with the splitting pain that was stomping around inside his head, but being shrugged off again was really starting to piss him off. "Right. Goodnight."
"Night," Dean replied and turned the light off. He glanced at Sam before he went over to his bed and removed a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt, and boxers from his duffel. He grabbed his toiletries as well and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.
The bathroom was small, and the dark green-tiled floor looked like it hadn't been swept in ages, but he'd make due. Hell, he'd done sit-ups and push-ups on much worse so it wasn't that much of a problem. He waited a few more seconds before he turned on the water in the shower, hoping it was as noisy as it looked. He turned the knob to its coldest position, not actually intending to get in just yet. He hoped the sound of the running water would put Sam to sleep, and drown out any sounds he would make while he was working out.
Dean slipped out of his jeans and pulled on the black pair of cottony sweatpants. They sagged on his waist, so he pulled the drawstring tighter, ignoring the fact that they used to fit perfectly before. He kept his two long-sleeved shirts on and got to work.
First, he started with a hundred push-ups, forcing himself to start all over again if he faltered even the slightest bit.
You've gotta be strong for Sammy. He needs you.
By the time he got to his sit-up regimen, Dean was drenched in sweat, but he kept both his shirts on; he didn't want to see what was underneath. He knew what was there; John had reminded him many a time.
Gettin' soft in the middle, boy. Better work it off. How many hunters do you know with a gut?
He went through the motions—up, down, up, down—over and over again until he reached five hundred. He let himself fall back down to rest, just for a minute, his abdominal muscles (and the still-healing wound on his side) screaming for him to stop. Hell, his entire body was telling him to just call it quits and take a shower, but he wouldn't listen. Instead, he got to his feet and started running in place, staring at the wall instead of the grimy mirror that was in front of him.
Every so often, he'd glance at the door, just to make sure Sam wasn't trying to get in. After what he'd given him, the chances were slim, but still Dean was cautious.
He kept up with the running for an hour before finally deciding that taking a shower was probably a good idea. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he was undressing, disdain marking his thin face.
He hadn't lost that much weight. Not really.
At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Because those weren't ribs poking through his skin. No, they were just shadows from the bad lighting. That's all.
S*P*N*S*P*N
When Sam woke up, thankfully, the headache was gone, but the memory of the vision wasn't.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at Dean's bed. It was empty.
Figures.
He had almost managed to fling the covers off of himself when the door opened. He watched his brother balance a drink carrier filled with two cups of steaming hot coffee in one hand, and a plastic bag filled with presumably their breakfast and a few newspapers in the other, all the while closing the door with his foot.
"Mornin', sunshine," Dean quipped when he saw that his little brother was finally awake. "Hope you're hungry," he added, setting everything down on the dingy table.
Sam rolled his eyes and got up, grabbing his blood testing kit and insulin from the nightstand. He sat down at the table, preparing to go through his testing ritual when he saw the headline on the front newspaper : FIFTH STUDENT PERISHES IN YET ANOTHER SUICIDE.
"Happened yesterday," Dean stated, sitting across from his brother and removing his breakfast from the bag. "I saw some of the kid's friends at the diner, and from what I could understand, he was Mr. Popular. Star quarterback, good grades, tons of friends. The usual person you'd think would never off themselves."
"So what's the game plan?" Sam asked as he pricked his finger with the poker. When he didn't receive a response, he looked up, realizing Dean hadn't seen he was talking. To get Dean's attention, he swiped a piece of diced potato out of his brother's container, almost laughing when he saw the frown form on Dean's lips. Before his brother could open his mouth to say 'hey', Sam put both of his hands out in front his chest, sweeping them from left to right.
Dean's expression softened when he realized it was just a ploy to grab his attention rather than an attempt to steal his food. "The plan? I figured we could go check out the place. It should be mostly empty now cos they're holding a memorial for the dead kids. And if by chance we see somebody, we'll just pretend to be students or something. Shouldn't be too hard."
Sam nodded as he took his insulin, pinching what little he could on his arm and injecting himself. He glanced up when he was done just in time to see Dean look away.
He'd been watching him.
A small smile pulled up the corner of Sam's lips. Always has to make sure I'm okay. Gotta love 'em.
The youngest Winchester opened his breakfast container, surprised to see that his brother had actually gotten him something that he liked; a vegetarian omelet with a side of diced apples and a banana nut muffin. He found himself hungry for the first time in awhile and started to eat.
They both ate in silence until Dean's unsure voice cut through it.
"How's your head?" He spoke so softly Sam almost didn't hear him. The brunette looked up from his meal, making sure he had heard right. Dean was staring at him, an expectant look on his face.
"Better," Sam answered with a nod. "The aspirin did the trick."
"Yeah, and actually sleeping for more than three hours probably helped too," Dean said with a lopsided grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He pushed his chair out and got up, throwing away his container, thankful that Sam hadn't noticed it was still half full.
Sam thought about his brother's statement for a moment, an eyebrow quirking in confusion. "Wait a second...Did you give me sleeping pills?" he asked curiously. He pursed his lips when he saw that his brother was purposely not looking at him. Sam tossed his plastic fork at him when he didn't receive a response.
Dean looked innocently up at him, trying to keep a straight face. "What? Couldn't hear ya, being deaf and all," he remarked, raising a finger to his right ear and then moving it towards his mouth. "Hey, don't get your panties all in a bunch over it. Besides I only gave you one, the other was an aspirin. You needed sleep, Sammy."
Sam sighed. Dean was right. Dammit.
"Whatever," Sam mumbled, closing his now empty container. "Ready to go?" he asked, holding both hands in front of him with his index fingers pointed outwards and moving them forward.
"Yep," Dean replied, sliding his jacket on. "Last one to the car has to do laundry for the next week," he added quickly, then jogged to the door, not even giving Sam a chance.
"Jerk," he murmured under his breath, grabbing his jacket as well. He was half-smiling though as he exited the room.
S*P*N*S*P*N
They arrived at Carroll College quickly; the motel having only been less than a mile away. The campus consisted of several large halls, and with a little searching, they soon found the one they were looking for.
"So they're all jumping from the same spot?" Sam asked as they both came to stand in front of Saint Charles Hall, the structure where all of the deaths were occurring.
Dean nodded in response, eyes squinting from the morning sun.
They both looked up at the four-story building. It was huge and constructed out of red porphyry stone with a red-tiled roof. It had a gothic air about it, definitely creepy and old looking and ripe for haunting.
"The paper said they're all taking the plunge from the same place on the fourth floor," Dean stated. "Didn't say where at up there though."
They made their way into the building, both falling into their roles as transfer students. Dean led the way up the large staircase and up to the fourth floor. The main hallway was long and had numerous doors; the ones on the left side led to the mens dormitories, and the ones on the right to the womens. It was mostly empty with the exception of a lone priest coming from the mens side.
"Excuse me, Father," Sam said as the man approached the stairway. The priest looked to be between thirty and forty, a few gray hairs blending in with his short brown hair. He was thin and wore a solemn expression upon his face. Not exactly the most friendly-looking of people.
"Yes? How can I help you boys?" he asked, a polite, barely-there smile curving up the corners of his lips.
"Um, we're new here-"
"Just transferred from Iowa State," Dean cut in with a grin. This place was making him nervous, and for the life of him, he couldn't understand why.
"Right, Iowa State," Sam repeated with an annoyed glance at his brother. "And anyway, like I was saying, we're new here, and we're trying get on with the school newspaper. We heard about the recent suicides..."
The priest's face immediately faltered and turned grim and mention of the latest happenings. "I hope you two aren't put off by those incidents," he said. "This is a fine, fine institution, and there are some that just cannot handle the pressures of society. As you know, this is a catholic school, and those students had every opportunity available to rid themselves of their self-doubt and destructive behaviors-"
"Destructive behaviors?" Dean scoffed. "It didn't look like any of those kids engaged in destructive behaviors. In fact, most of them seemed about as happy and apple pie as you can get."
The priest stared at him, an irritable smiling now forming on his mouth. "I can assure that just because someone seems alright, doesn't mean that they are. We all wear masks every now and then."
Dean's eyes narrowed more, his jaw clenching visibly underneath his skin.
Sam quickly took control of the conversation, already seeing where the war of words was leading. "So, we heard that they're all," he paused, looking for a more sincere way to ask where the kids were offing themselves. "Committing these acts from the same spot. Is that true?"
The priest gladly directed his gaze at the younger brunette. "Yes, that is true. No matter how many times we seal the room up, they're still somehow managing to get in there."
"May I ask where exactly that place is?" Sam inquired, trying to sound as polite as possible. "Just so we can add it to the article we're working on. If it's not too much trouble."
The older man sighed and pointed back down the hall we're he'd just come from. "It's down the hall and to the right, but you can't get in there. It was once used as a bathroom, but the area has been cordoned off, and if any student does manage to get in there," he stated, glancing at Dean, "it is means for immediate expulsion."
Sam nodded in understanding. "Thank you so much for your time, Father."
They hadn't walked more than five steps away from the man when Dean uttered, "What a dick."
Sam's eyes widened and he nudged his brother, nervously turning around and throwing a wave over his shoulder at the priest.
"What?" Dean asked, running a hand over his ribs.
Sam rolled his eyes and tapped his right ear twice, jerking his head back in the direction of the holy man.
"So what if he can hear me?" Dean asked with a shrug of the shoulders. "Besides, he's gone anyway," he continued, looking back at the spot where the man had been.
"Dean." Sam stared at his brother, and something in that look made Dean's 'so what' expression disappear fairly quickly. Sam really didn't know how much he looked like their father sometimes.
It didn't take long to find what they were looking for; the area was roped off just as the priest had said, and decorated with numerous teddy bears, flowers, football memorabilia and other memorial trinkets. The door to the bathroom itself had been boarded up, four two-by-fours nailed across it. And if those weren't enough, someone had drilled four steel plates into it, one in each corner.
"Looks like we're gonna need the crowbar," Dean signed, holding his left hand flat facing out in front of him, and using his right to act as though he were prying open a door. He unzipped the bag of tools they'd brought and began to dig for the metal bar.
Sam stared at him for a moment, comprehending him fully, but not understanding why his brother would just stop talking like that and decide to sign instead. It was becoming more and more frequent, and Sam just couldn't figure it out. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed as though Dean stopped speaking when he was upset, but there was no reason to be upset now, was there? Sam shook the thought away and bent down to examine some of the items left from the jumpers' friends.
There were plenty of the usual 'R.I.P.' letters and pictures, but one in particular caught his eye.
Sis-
I will never understand why you've done this, and I don't think I ever will. We were like best friends, and told each other everything, at least, I told you everything. How could you have done this? Why didn't you tell me anything was wrong? Was this because of Mom? I thought we'd gotten past it. Was I wrong? You know you can't blame God for that. I know you were angry, but this? I feel like I should have caught on, but I didn't, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I love you and miss you so much, and I hope one day I'll see you again.
I love you,
Kate
Sam stood up, holding the piece of paper out to Dean.
"What's this?" Dean asked with his hands, holding them out in front of himself and shrugging, then pointing at the letter.
"Just read it," Sam answered, holding his index and middle fingers out and pointing to the paper.
Dean took it and did so, his brow narrowed as he read through it. "So?" he shrugged. "She's angry at her sister for offing herself. What's the big deal?" he asked, fingers and hands moving so fast Sam could hardly keep up.
"Not sure, but I'm leaning towards doubt," Sam answered, taking the letter back from his brother and setting it back amongst the piles of memorial items.
"Doubt?" Dean asked, holding his right index and middle finger a few inches in front of his eyes and then moving them away while he shook his head. "Like realizing there isn't a God?"
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, deciding not to play into Dean's smartassery. "Like doubting their faith."
"So, like I said, realizing how naïve they've been?" the middle Winchester quipped with a surefire smirk. He quickly changed the subject when he saw the flash of anger cloud over Sam's face like an impending thunderstorm. "Keep watch for me, will ya?" he asked, retrieving the crowbar from the gym bag. Without waiting for a response, he turned towards the door and began to pry off the metal pieces.
Sam clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep his mouth shut. He walked down towards the end of the hall; it was easier to tell if someone one coming from there. His mind began to drift as he heard the sounds of the metal plates falling to the floor, clinking as they made contact with the marble below and echoing down the hallway.
He thought about all the sounds he could hear, and all the noises that grated on his nerves, and how they'd probably sound like music to Dean's ears if were actually able to hear them. Car horns, the buzzing of a fly, the couple in the next motel room's moaning (yeah, his brother would probably love that a little too much); they were all sounds Sam took for granted.
"You're lucky. If I were a snake, I would've bit you," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts, actually making him jump. "C'mon, door's open," he said, nodding towards the opposite end of the hallway.
Sam stared at him for a moment, still surprised at how quiet his older brother had been. Dean never ceased to amaze him. Or annoy him, for that matter. He quickly followed the middle Winchester back to the cordoned off area, stepping over the ropes as Dean ducked under them.
"Show off," Dean muttered, making sure he was first to the door. He cracked it open, the stale, damp air hitting them both at the same time.
The two brothers stepped into the old bathroom; it was clear it hadn't been used in years, judging from the thick layers of dust that coated most of the black and white checkered floor and the single, long porcelain sink that sat off to their left side. The walls were painted a pea-green color and were faded from lack of upkeep. There were two large windows on the far side of the bathroom; one was whole, the other was boarded up. Sunlight slipped through the dirty glass of the remaining window, showcasing all the particles of dust that were floating in the too cold room.
Sam watched Dean pull his homemade EMF reader out of the inside pocket of his jacket. As soon as he turned it on, the machine lit up and Sam could hear its bleeps and static indicating that there was most definitely something supernatural going on.
The door to the bathroom suddenly slammed closed, sending cobwebs and dust flying.
Sam glanced at his brother, worry in his eyes as a sense of dread hit him, smacking him straight in the chest and trickling out to the ends of his limbs. As the wall of frigid air hit them, he watched Dean take a few steps in front of him, subconsciously or not, Dean was ever the protector.
Something that looked a hell of a lot like blood began to gush from the two ancient-looking faucets in the single sink basin, rapidly filling it up and splashing onto the floor, staining the tiles and creating a lake of crimson at their feet. Within seconds, an apparition began to appear in the middle of the blood. It was hard to make out at first, but the spirit eventually took the form of a priest; the one that they had encountered just moments before.
Sam's mouth opened in surprise and he felt himself shiver, the air in the room continuing to grow colder. Even though they were trained hunters, the two young men were definitely not expecting this. The worst part was, they had no way to rid themselves of the disturbance. They hadn't brought any weapons because for one thing, neither thought they'd need to use them while they were; and two, shooting a gun off in the middle of the day in a college full of students was sure to raise a red flag and have the police called in. Hell, they'd only went to check out the place.
Now they were just fucked in usual Winchester fashion.
The priest stood there for a moment, just staring at them, his cold scowl narrowing in on Dean. Sam watched as his brother continued to stand defiant, though there was a definite hint of worry in his eyes.
"You're just like the rest of them," the spirit finally spoke in a whisper, coming closer and closer to Dean, the gap between them less than three feet now. "Putting on a front, pretending all is well and good, but it's not." It laughed. "No, it's not. Far from it, in fact. You hate yourself, don't you child? Wish you could end it all and not have to worry about keeping up appearances anymore, hmmm?"
Sam could see from his vantage point the expression on his brother's face change from angry to hurt.
"You're completely worthless, and you know it. He knows it too," the priest cooed, nodding towards Sam.
Sam's eyes widened as Dean looked back at him, the most heartbreaking expression set upon his features. "Sammy?" he mouthed, green eyes glimmering.
"Don't listen to him, Dean!" Sam shouted, hating the irony of his statement. "It's not true!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as he quickly formed his right hand into an A shape and placed his thumb under his chin, moving it forward sharply. He then extended his right index finger and placed it on his lips and moved it forward just as surely.
Before his brother had a chance to react, the ghost grabbed Dean by the throat, wrapping its icy cold fingers around his neck and squeezing, cutting off the precious oxygen supply to the hunter's lungs.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, reaching for the forgotten crowbar that lay lonely and desolate on the bloody floor. He quickly retrieved it, the metal cold and heavy in his hands. He was about to swing at the spirit when it disappeared, but not before hurling Dean across the room and directly through the boarded up window.
Sam felt his jaw and heart both drop simultaneously when he saw that the glassless window was now wide open and gaping, letting in the chilly winter air from outside.
The wind struck him cold and fast, blowing his shaggy mane this way and that, but he paid no attention. He was rooted to the spot, eyes wide with shock at what he'd just witnessed. He felt the tears threatening to drop, clouding his vision to the point of near-blindness when he saw a familiar hand reach up and over the window sill, grasping for purchase.
"Dean!" he shouted, breaking free of his invisible restraints and sprinting over to the window. He immediately clasped a hold of his brother's hand and pulled him up, telling himself that it was only easy because of all the adrenaline currently pumping through his veins.
They both sat on the floor for a moment, catching their breath.
Dean was the first to speak. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked, completely ignoring the fact that he'd just been hailed through a window and nearly fallen to his death.
Sam shook his head, telling himself that he had, in fact, heard his brother correctly. "Yeah, man, I'm fine. What about you?"
Dean stared at him for a moment, processing the words that were filtering through his brother's lips. "I'll live."
Sam stood up and held a hand out, only to have Dean brush it off and get up on his own.
"We need to find out who the hell that dick of a priest is and where he's buried because I can't wait to salt and burn that bastard," Dean managed to get out before his legs gave way and dizziness turned his vision into a tilt-o-whirl.
As Sam watched his brother collapse and black out, some nagging voice in the back of his head told him that it probably wouldn't be the last time it happened.
A/N : Sorry for the long delay. I just want to send a big THANK YOU to those who've reviewed and stuck with me for the sequel. MANY THANKS to shammy101, dandy44, Glades of Grey, HPSmallCharm29, CrazyDreamin, kissacazador, J Reznik , renniespice, and ANON. Thank you all for your positive reviews, and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, took me long enough to write it! Lol Until next time...