Disclaimer: I'm not a part of SPN or the CW…I totally wouldn't say no, though…given a phone call and a writing gig…but for now, I just own the plot, my storyline, original characters, and pretty much everything not Sam, Dean, or Bobby-esque. You know it, I know it.
Author's Note: Currently looking for more writers located in Tennessee. Seriously need me some writing buddies and LARPers for some madness. PM if you're around East Tennessee or a surrounding state Also, thanks to everyone who left a review last chapter! I love them and thank you for acknowledging the work that goes into these chapters! I write for the readers, but I love writing back to the reviewers!
Fort Eustis, Newport News, Virginia
Gloria listened as another noise came from the hallway. She was exhausted, unable to sleep for fear that Dean would be taken or that the monstrous being would return. She listened to soft footsteps pause outside the door, the sound of the door handle being twisted catching her attention. She tensed, drawing her weapon from her side.
"Bobby, is that you?"
The door shook in its frame as the door handle was shaken violently.
"Sam? Sam, is that you?"
Gloria gripped her Beretta as the scratching sounds returned at the doorway. She took another shaky breathe and glanced back at Dean. He was sprawled on the bed, his head rolling from side to side slightly as he stared at things she couldn't see; talking to people that weren't there. His eyes were still milky white, the hand print shaped bruise that graced his face appearing dark against his to pale skin. She laid a hand over his forehead, his skin dry and hot under her hand. He pulled away from her touch, something like a growl coming from behind his frown. She moved away from him, not really sure if she was a match for him anymore as exhaustion coursed through her. If he decided to fight her, she'd be in trouble.
She rubbed her hands over her tired eyes and sighed deeply as the sound at the door grew louder. She aimed at the door and let another round loose, leaving another splintered hole in the door. Her head throbbed and her vision was blurring around the edges, but in her exhaustion, she was proud of her aim.
She knew the ammo was running low and that if Bobby didn't get there soon, there would be trouble. Her stomach growled hungrily as she considered how long they had been stuck in the room.
Gloria leaned against the foot of the bed, her back to Dean as she listened to the sound at the door. Her vision dimmed as her head bobbed on her shoulders, her eyes snapping open in fear of falling asleep. "Can't fall asleep, right Dean," she asked as she hauled herself to her feet. "Gotta stay awake."
Dean's head turned toward her, his incoherent mutterings getting slightly louder for a moment before he quieted back down.
Gloria paced the small room, trying to call upon her training and the memories of her dad. She knew her grip on reality was going to start slipping soon, if it hadn't already. She had seen what stress, fear, and sleep deprivation could do to someone; she'd been through worse than this, but this…this was a new kind of fear, a new kind of hell. She just had to stay awake until Bobby got there. Staying awake kept you alive at times like these, but the exhaustion…it could be a real killer.
Fort Eustis, Newport News, Virginia
Bobby turned the map in his hands, trying to make heads or tails of the messy map Sam had drawn out following Gloria's instructions of the base. He grunted and pointed to the left before glancing at Sam. The closer they had gotten to Dean, the tenser and quieter Sam had gotten. Bobby was beginning to worry; Sam had always been the more emotional of the boys, prone to everything from pouting to outbursts. He knew Sam was anxious to get to Dean; it had been over a week since they had laid eyes on Dean and Bobby knew that he was bound to be in bad shape. He wished they had taken the time to get their hands on some medical equipment but without seeing Dean first, he could only guess what they might need for him.
Rain still poured down as they cruised past rows of houses; neighborhoods littered with playgrounds and sidewalks. Here and there lights shone in the houses as men and women prepared for another day on base. Bobby had seen military bases before and this one seemed like all the rest.
"Looks a little surreal for a military base," Sam muttered as he stared past the windshield wipers. "I was expecting more tanks and fewer playgrounds, I guess."
"Oh, they've got tanks. And everything else you can image," Bobby assured him. "But the families have to live somewhere too and just cause the soldiers live in hell doesn't mean their families have to. We'll blend easier since the base isn't entirely personal in uniform; we'll look like visitors as long as we can keep our heads down and get Dean off base without causing a scene."
Sam nodded silently and turned the car, trying to follow Bobby's instructions. As the car rolled up to a chain link fence with 'Authorized Personal Only' signs hanging from it, he cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his face. He was exhausted and tense from stress. He didn't even know why he had offered to drive; his head throbbed as another headache started, just another late effect from his accident with the Impala.
"Just turn back, Sam. We must have taken a wrong turn."
Sam sighed in frustration and threw it into reverse, bringing the car around with more tire squealing than necessary. Bobby caught his eye and shook his head. "Cool it, Sam. We'll get there."
Sam blinked tears of frustration out of his eyes, he was so close to Dean and yet he couldn't follow a simple map he had drawn himself. "I can't, Bobby. We're so close…What if we get there and he's..."
"Stop the car, Sam."
Sam let the car come to a halt in the middle of the empty street and threw it into park. He sat silently clutching the wheel as Bobby got out of car into the rain and walked to the driver's side door. Bobby yanked it open with the telltale squeak and scowled at him. "Move over. I'm driving. You're navigating. And he'll be there, might not be in good shape but he'll be there. Gloria's capable of holding her own, Dean's too."
Sam nodded, unable to speak as the knot in his throat swelled. He cleared his throat and wiped a hand over his eyes as he slid across the seat. He didn't have the same relationship with Bobby that Dean did, but Bobby was certainly the closest thing to a father, or even just a caring friend, that they had. As much as he hated Bobby for being seeing his frustration and exhaustion, he appreciated Bobby stepping in.
The base was bigger than he had imagined and he immediately wished he was taken the time to review its map online.
"This is like finding a needle in a haystack," he muttered as he turned the poorly drawn map in his hand. "Which direction is North on this thing?"
"You made the damn thing," Bobby chuckled. "You figure it out."
Sam frowned as he turned the map in his hands several times. "What the hell was I doing when I made this?"
Bobby grabbed the hand drawn map and chucked it into the backseat. "You're still working off the tail end of a whopping concussion. Forget the map, we'll find the cabins without it. There's gotta be signs for them."
Sam and Bobby drove through the wide streets, heads swiveling at every posted sign. Bobby finally pointed to one showing a cabin and turned the car down the small paved lane. Several cabins came into view, lit by the lightning that still flashed overhead. Their headlights cut through the rain and cast shadows on the walls of the small buildings. Bobby spotted Gloria's car and pulled next to it before killing the engine.
"Let's go get your brother," Bobby muttered as he slipped from the car. They dashed silently up the steps before pausing on the small porch. Sam immediately tried to shove the door open before Bobby grabbed his arm. "Hold up, Sam. We've got to have a plan before going in."
"You think that whatever was in there with them is still here," Sam asked as he patted his pockets down for any sort of weapon. He knew he wasn't quite running at normal capacity. His head throbbed as he tried to recall if he and Bobby had already discussed the likelihood of coming face to face with one of the things that was stealing Dean.
Bobby shook his head. "We're just going to have to wing it. We've got no weapons and no knowledge of how to kill them even if we did. Just keep an eye out and your head down. We need to be quiet in case we can use the element of surprise."
After his third failed attempt to pick the lock, Bobby nudged Sam out the way and popped it open after the first try. He was worried about Sam; the kid looked like shit warmed over and he was starting to show all the signs of being pushed past exhaustion. If Sam didn't take a breather, Bobby was going to have to rewrite the ground rules for tagging along on a hunt. He couldn't have Sam down at a time like this, not when Dean was going to need so much attention.
They crept into the dark cabin and closed the door silently behind them, each pulling a small flashlight from their jacket. Bobby pointed to the intact salt line at the door and motioned for Sam to follow him. The living room was void of anything interesting, but Bobby paused in the kitchen; a sinking feeling in his gut. A few displaced groceries and first aid items littered the counter and a blackened ladle lay in the sink, a bloody washcloth next to it. He saw Sam pale slightly at the sight of the items. Bobby caught his eye and shook his head, it wasn't unexpected; they knew what Gloria had done.
A sound from the dark hallway caught their attention, Bobby immediately moving between Sam and the doorway. He knew that Sam's reflexes were slow and cumbersome; not the ideal hunting partner to have watching your back when searching for an unidentified monster. Bobby grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and slowly moved into the dark hallway, Sam staying a step behind him.
Bobby heard it again; a soft scratching sound that seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. Bobby walked slowly up the hallway, his flashlight illuminating some wood splinters littering the floor. He kneeled down and picked a few from the floor, turning them in his hand. Sam hovered over him, taking a few of the splinters from Bobby's outstretched hand. Bobby shined his flashlight around and immediately spotted the bullet holes peppering the door. Before Bobby could stop him, Sam grabbed the doorknob and twisted it firmly, jerking the door on its hinge.
"Where the hell are—"
Bobby hit the floor as the loud sound of a gunshot rang out, Sam suddenly slamming into the wall opposite the door.
"SAM!"
Bobby sprang into action and grabbed Sam by the shirt and dragged him further down the hallway and out the way just as another bullet came barreling through the door, splinters exploding into the air.
"Dammit, Gloria! It's us! Stop shooting!"
Bobby didn't stop for a reply as he turned his attention back to Sam.
"Where were you hit, boy," Bobby asked frantically as he scrambled to find one of the dropped flashlights. He finally managed to grab one from the floor before turning back to Sam. "Balls."
Sam was slumped against the wall, his skin pale and clammy in the dim light. Blood rushed from his shoulder, rivers of it trailing down his arm and chest, creating a puddle on the floor. Bobby swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to hold the flashlight steady as he pulled his flannel over shirt off. He didn't say anything as he surveyed the damage, trying to keep the thoughts of Sam's pain out of his mind. He… no, they couldn't afford for him to get all emotional and overbearing. He had to keep it together. If didn't matter if Dean was delirious in the other room… it didn't matter if Gloria was suffering from severe exhaustion and paranoia….it didn't matter that Sam was bleeding profusely. What mattered was Bobby keeping his head on straight; that was all that mattered. Without that, Dean would be taken again, Gloria would harm someone else, and Sam would bleed to death.
"Bobby...," Sam muttered through clenched teeth, his breathing ragged from the pain, breaking into Bobby's thoughts. "How bad?"
"Shut up for a second," Bobby barked, trying to stave off the panic that was threatening to set in. Dean was well protected for the moment, far better protected than them. Bobby used the kitchen knife to cut away the bloody clothing, trying to find the bullet wound in the mess that was Sam's shoulder. He could see splinters of wood in the wound, blown off the door and dragged in by the bullet no doubt.
"Go find Dean….," Sam murmured, his eyes filled with pain. "…'M…okay…."
"Like hell you are," Bobby spat as he surveyed the ragged bullet wound. Thunder cracked overhead, drowning out Sam's response. Bobby wadded up his shirt before pressing it against the oozing hole in Sam's shoulder. Sam hissed at the pressure, lurching away from Bobby's touch.
"Stop Sam, I need you to hold this while I check your back," Bobby said as he pulled Sam away from the wall. Sam cried out at the movement, his body overwhelmed by the pain and blood loss. Bobby used his hand to feel through the slick blood that coated Sam's shoulder and back. Bobby's stress went through the roof when he couldn't find an exit wound.
"Dammit! It's still in there," Bobby explained. "You Winchesters and your luck…"
"Not feeling lucky…bout now," Sam slurred, his voice tight with pain.
Bobby glanced up at Sam, his eyes were clenched shut and his breathing was ragged. "I can get it out, Sam. Let's just hope to God it didn't ricochet in there to badly…Probably shredded the muscle…Have to dig the bullet out to start with. See what we can do after that. "
"No supplies Bobby," Sam slurred, his bright eyes sliding open. "….We left them…hotel…"
Bobby frowned at Sam's words. "Balls! Well, we're going to have to get you out of here, now."
Sam thrashed his head from side to side. "Dean…get Dean…."
Bobby glanced back at the door before calling out, "Gloria, this is Bobby Singer. I've got Sam Winchester out here with me, he's been shot…We're here to get Dean… Open the door."
He heard movement in the room before he heard her voice, angry and fearful. "Try the door again and I'll shoot."
Bobby groaned silently. "Gloria, it's us. Sam's wounded and I need to get him out of here. I'm going to need some help out here. Open up!"
"How do I know….how do I know you're really him?"
"Gloria…did you get any sleep," Bobby asked. Silence filled the hallway.
"Bobby…what's going on…," Sam asked from his place on the floor.
Bobby hunkered down in front of Sam, checking him over and placing Sam's hand over the shirt. "Press this to the wound, you know the drill. I think Gloria's gone into survival mode…she's exhausted from stress and sleep deprivation, and armed. Probably feeling a little hungry by now too. Never a good combination…she's down to her last energy reserve and sticking to her orders, which in this case was to protect Dean and keep him from getting taken."
Sam paled even further at his words. "Gotta get him, Bobby…"
"I know. And we will. She's gonna run out of ammo eventually but I'm betting the door is barricaded, cause like a bunch of idjits we told her to do it," Bobby exclaimed, adjusting his cap. "We've just got to convince her to open the door from the inside."
"Let me try," Sam said with a groan. "Dean! Listen to me, Dean! It's Sam, I'm here, man."
In the room, Dean shifted toward the sound of a voice, warm and familiar. Gloria gripped the Beretta, down to her last bullet. She glanced from Dean to the door, the sound of the man in the hallway familiar to her own ears as well, only this time it was laced with pain. She shook her head, she knew of creatures that could change their voice, get in your head, and mess up your reality. This was a trick, it had to be.
"Dean! Answer me, dammit," the voice yelled again, this time more frightened and demanding.
Gloria jumped at the sound, her hands shaking. One bullet left…it had to count or they'd both be dead. She glanced from Dean to the door, wondering which would be the worst thing that could happen. Dean could be taken…or she could ruin their plans by killing their tribute. Maybe they'd leave then. Or maybe they'd use her as their tribute instead. She ran a hand over her tired eyes, confusion beginning to gnaw at her certainty.
"Gloria, talk to me," a voice said from the hallway. "Your silence is starting to worry me some. Tell me what you need in order to open this door."
Gloria gripped her Beretta, her hand sweating slightly. "I need to know…I need to know if it's really you…How do I know? Everyone wants Dean… I have to protect him! Sam asked me to protect him…"
Bobby leaned against the wall, frowning as he listened to her words, his eyes straying to Sam. The kid needed help; he really needed a trip to an operating room and the sooner the better. His coloring was off; sweat beading across his skin. Bobby shook his head and turned his thoughts back to Gloria. He had to get that door open. The storm was only going to hide the sound of gunshots and fighting for so long, and then the military police were bound to get involved. Bobby had to end this now.
"Gloria, I know you're tired. But I need you to focus…Look at the clock; it's been long enough that we're here. You know we discussed the length of the drive. We finally made it. I know Sam asked you to protect Dean and dammit if you haven't done one hell of a job. It's time for you to stand down, let us take over," Bobby explained, his voice authoritative yet soothing. "Let me in. Sam's out here bleeding and I need to make sure you and Dean are alright so I can take care of Sam."
No noise came from the room.
Sam pulled himself from the floor, crying out faintly as he did. "Dean, listen to me! You need to tell Gloria to let us in!"
Some part of Sam remembered that Dean wasn't able to understand him, wasn't able to grasp what was going on around him. But he needed to heard Dean's voice, he needed to know his brother was still alive.
"DEAN!"
Gloria jumped at the volume of the voice, her heart beating in her ears. Thunder cracked overhead while lightning flashed through the window, the shadows making her shudder.
Dean's head swiveled towards the voice, his white eyes flicking this way and that. A soft noise rose from his throat, his lips silently forming a word. Gloria glanced fearfully at the door before easing closer to Dean. She kneeled close and listened.
"Sammy…" Dean murmured, his lips dry and cracked from the heat that threatened to engulf him. He reached toward the door before his hand dropped back onto the bed, his body far too exhausted and malnourished to follow his command.
Gloria watched as Dean's eyes rolled back in his head as he fell limp on the bed. She hesitated once more. Dean's life was in her hands. If she chose to open the door, it might not be Sam and Bobby that came in. It could be more of those things and Sam and Bobby had asked her to keep Dean safe. She rubbed her head, tired and worried. Her hand trembled slightly, gripping the gun tightly. She had to choose…
"Gloria," the voice said again. "It's Bobby Singer. I'm gonna ask you again, did you get any sleep since we last spoke on the phone?"
Gloria moved closer to Dean and ignored the voice.
"Humor me," the voice said again. "Talk to me."
Gloria hesitated, certain that speaking to a figment of her addled imagination was a bad idea. "No, I couldn't sleep. They want Dean and I have to keep him safe."
"And you're doing a bang up job of it too," Bobby chuckled from the hallway, trying to keep his voice light and trusting. He kneeled down next to Sam and whispered, "We need to get you to a hospital, Sam. We can come back for Dean."
Sam opened his eyes, fear and anger and pain blazing brightly. "Get Dean. I'm not leaving here without him. So you either get him out soon or you've got to patch me up here."
Bobby shook his head in frustration. "Hard headed fool and an idjit to boot. Listen Sam, the only way to get through to someone paranoid is to find common ground. That's not a quick thing to do…and you need that bullet dug out of your shoulder now."
Sam suddenly reached out and grabbed Bobby's shirt, his whole body burning with pain. He pulled Bobby close, his forehead beading with sweat at the effort. "Not without Dean…"
Bobby sighed deeply before nodding. Bobby turned back to the door and thought back to what he knew about Gloria. Hunting was their only common ground….That and Dean.
"He's stubborn isn't he," Bobby called out. "Dean's always been hard headed and determined. Same thing your daddy told me about you…"
Gloria frowned at the voice talking about her dad. "How did you know my dad?"
"We hunted together once, a long time ago," Bobby called through the door.
"He never mentioned a Bobby Singer," Gloria called out. "You're lying."
Bobby hung his head and sighed in frustration before speaking again. "He told your mom he was going on a training exercise because she didn't like him hunting. Me and Marty had tracked down a revenant, your dad knew the area and offered to help us out. He came home with a broken arm and a black eye…do you remember that?"
Gloria sat on the edge of the bed. She did remember that, her mom and dad had fought after he had come home; the reason was obvious now.
"Gloria?"
"I remember," Gloria called out, still uncertain of the origin of the voice, but her hands stopped trembling, a wide yawn cracking her jaw.
"Dean has always been like your dad in that way, you ask him to help out on a hunt and he jumps right in. Usually ends up hurt," Bobby called out. "He's got the scars to prove it. There's one right behind his knee that I put there myself, just a few weeks ago when all this started to happen to him. I wasn't sure it was really him, but I had to know. I used a silver blade to cut him while he was unconscious and laying in a hospital bed…I've seen more of the Winchester blood than anyone else, I think…How is he doing in there?"
Gloria shifted on the edge of the bed. Dean lay limp on the bed, his breathing shallow. He looked awful. She pulled the blanket down, rolling him over onto his side. Curiosity peaking, she pulled her flashlight from her pocket and looked behind his knee. She ran a finger along the red mark, such an odd place for an injury. Her eyes blurred almost painfully as her headache increased. She needed sleep. And food. But mostly sleep. She couldn't keep upright much longer and damned if the voice wasn't soothing and disarming.
Cautiously, she moved to the door and pushed the dresser to the side, praying this wasn't the wrong move.
If you can spare a minute, please post a review. I appreciate any and all advice, critiques if they can be constructive, and just knowing that I'm tickled your fancy. Thanks for tagging along and reading! Next chapter is nearly done ;)