A/N: OK, I have no excuse for an extremely late update, but last week, Discovery channel fed my unhealthy, unnatural obsession with sharks using Shark Week. But then I had major writers block, and this chapter was a pain to write. So, I really have no excuse. But this fic will not be abandoned, I can promise you all that. Hope you enjoy!
The ringing in my ears is what wakes me up. Well, ringing is the wrong word; it's more like a humming noise, similar to when a huge group of people are all talking at the same time in a huge room, and all of their voices sounds like a weird humming noise. Except the humming is high pitched and in a different language.
I struggle to pull my eyelids apart, and after what feels like hours, but only lasts a few seconds, I open my eyes. I lay on my left side in a relatively soft bed, facing what I recognize as the Winchester's hotel room. I wonder for a few seconds how I got here, and what happened, and then I remember everything: the comedenti, the hunt, me saving Sam and the caro comedenti biting me in the process, and everything else besides. I glance around, and see a note on the nightstand next to a glass of water and my gun still in its holster, so I sit up to grab one of the three items.
I am surprised at the lack of resistance coming from my right shoulder, so I decide to look at it. I pull away the too big shirt and see a clean bandage wrapped around the undoubtedly stitched injury. I don't want to think about that process, or whose shirt I'm wearing, because I know that I don't own any AC DC t-shirts. So, instead of thinking about it, I settle for drinking the glass of water. The humming noise isn't getting any quieter, which worries me, but it isn't getting worse either. As I drink the water, I enjoy the cool, refreshing feeling of the water sliding down my throat. I guess I was thirstier than I thought.
After drinking the water, I test the mobility of my shoulder, and only find a small amount of pain compared to what I was expecting. That's strange, a bite wound as deep as the one I sustained would take weeks to heal, and I don't think I've been out for weeks.
I grab my gun and hook the holster to my pants, and read the note. It's written in Dean's rigid handwriting, saying that they should be back later today. I'm confused and slightly unnerved by the note; the boys could have dropped me in another hotel or a hospital and left me there and I wouldn't have thought twice about it. Hunters generally don't stay in one place for very long. So why did Sam and Dean patch me up, and are going to come back later? Unless… no, I won't think about that.
I hear the engine of the Impala outside, and feel slightly relieved, but also kind of apprehensive about the fact that the brothers came back to talk to me and take care of me. The sounds of their voices drift through the surprisingly thin walls. The humming noise intensifies as they move closer to the door, and eventually open it.
I stare at them, astonished and frightened at what I'm seeing right now. I subconsciously move my hand to my gun, but don't draw; the last thing anyone needs is a gun pointed at them. However, the strange bluish white light emanating from the brothers isn't helping their odds. I tense, as the bright lights and the humming noise are pulsing in harmony with each other.
As I come to this realization, the Winchesters seem to notice that I'm upright against the headboard. The humming goes from relatively calm to cautious, nervous, and maybe a little frantic. If possible, my body tenses even more.
"Hey Ken," Sam says, trying to sound nonchalant, but doing a very poor job of it. He cautiously lowers himself on the bed opposite of the one I am currently sitting on. He seems nervous, and moves around me as if I'm a wounded, scared animal. Which to be fair, I am.
Dean sits down at the foot of my bed, acting as if he's not sure what to do, but he does a far better job of concealing it than Sam is right now.
"We, uh, should probably tell you something," Sam says, his eyes not meeting mine.
The high-pitched humming sounds more frantic, and as I focus harder on one specific "voice" in the cacophony, the clearer it becomes, and is easier to interpret. The lights coming from Sam and Dean work the same way, but it's harder to focus on such a bright light for a long amount of time. Not that it's easy to focus on a super high-pitched humming, but it is much harder to focus on a bright light.
Sam starts to say something, but I interrupt, "Sam, I know you want to ease me into whatever your grand revelation is, but can you just cut the crap and tell me what the hell is going on." My voice comes out rushed and a little more panicked than I should admit, but I'm starting to panic just a little bit.
"You can see and hear souls," Dean tells me, looking me in the eye, honesty shining from his soul. He's not lying, and as much as I want to believe that it isn't true, I can't deny what my eyes and ears show me, confirming what Dean told me.
I feel my body breathe hard through my nose, trying my best to stay calm, but it's not working. I stand and begin to pace the length of the room, holding my right arm as still as possible, as I can still feel pain radiating from my bit wound. As I pace my breathing intensifies.
A part of me is telling me that I am overreacting, and that pacing and freaking out won't change anything about my current predicament. But another part of me says that my reaction is perfectly reasonable, that my entire life has changed: A few weeks ago, I was a perfectly normal, straight-A kid with a family, and a scholarship to college, and a driver's' license. I had friends, an actual life, and now it's all gone, and I have this weird ability that I don't even know how to control, and-
"Ken, calm down," Dean practically shouts. Oh, I must have vocalized my freak-out session. How much of that did they hear? It doesn't matter; I have bigger problems right now.
Dean is standing in front of me, and I notice that both brothers are on their feet, concern gleaming from them. Literally, I can see and hear it, and no matter how hard they try to keep their composure, they can't hide how they really feel. Not now, not from me. Great, I'm working myself up again.
"HOW can you expect me to calm DOWN right now?!" I shout, my voice shaking and far higher pitched than I would like. Tears are filling my eyes, but my stubborn pride keeps them in check. I also have a rule not to cry in front of people until I've known them for at least one month.
Dean takes a few tentative steps towards me, as he would a frightened, cornered, volatile animal. He awkwardly puts his hands on my shoulders as if he's never comforted a teenager before and looks me in the eye. "You'll be fine."
"How do you know that?" I ask. My voice breaks and my tears threaten to spill over. I close my eyes, and just listen to Dean's soul, hoping beyond hope that I will find the answer to my question within it. I can't interpret it very well, but I hear anxiety, confusion, pity, and… hope? And faith? Dean has hope? For me? He believes I can overcome this? Yeah, those two emotions shine out all the others, and my will dissolves as I realize how much he cares.
I break down and weep, crying like I never have before, and I latch onto Dean's shirt and press my face into his chest, ignoring the deafening noise of the souls. I feel my legs give out, and Dean gently lowers me onto the floor. I curl up tighter than humanly possible and feel Dean embrace me, and he rubs my back in small circles and hums assurances as I lose all of my composure. I hear Sam sit next to me and awkwardly place his hand on my shoulder, which only serves to make me cry harder. I cry for my parents, my friends that I can never go back to, my old life, hell I even cry for my dogs that died a few months back, getting me into this life. I curl up tighter into the boys' embrace and just let all of my emotions out.
I don't know how long we sit there on the floor as I let out all of the tears of a lifetime. When I have no more tears to cry, I pull out of the Winchesters' embrace and wipe my eyes. Sam and Dean pull away ever so slightly and look at me expectantly. "So, uh," I clear my throat and smile jokingly, "whose shirt am I wearing guys?"
We all chuckle, but our hearts aren't in it, and I think we all know that I asked the joke more to lighten the mood than anything.
"Well," Dean nervously says, "your shirt was ruined by your blood, we had to stitch up your shoulder, and we didn't think that you wanted to wake up with no shirt on."
I just smile, "Well you're right about that. It definitely would have been an awkward situation. Well, more so than it already was." I sigh, the smile vanishing from my face, "So I assume that the monster's venom gave me this, this, ability," I practically spit out the word.
"Yeah," Sam says his voice husky and rough. I look at him, but he avoids eye contact. Even without my new ability, I can tell he feels guilty for this, but I can't deal with that right now. Right now, I just want to relax. A yawn breaks my train of thought, but I form a new one, thinking about what to say to the boys.
By the time I shut my mouth, I know what to say, "So, are you guys heading out today?" They seem confused, almost astonished that I would ask something like that. "Come on guys, I'm not dumb. I know that you guys have better things to do than ease me into this newfound ability of mine."
They just smile knowingly, and Dean speaks up, "Well, we thought that we should help you before we left."
"Well, the help is appreciated." I stand, and so do the Winchesters.
"Oh," Sam says, pulls out the keys to my truck and hands them to me, "you might need these. We put your bow and knife in your truck"
"Thanks Sam," I say as I pocket the keys, "Thank you, both of you, for everything."
"No problem," Dean says. I just smile, and wave at them as I leave the room.
I breathe the fresh air, but the humming and buzzing of souls disturbs my peaceful breath. I look around and see a group of five or so people talking in the outer reaches of the parking lot. I try my best to ignore them as I walk towards my truck, and am relieved to find my weapons in the backseat of my truck, the seats folded up to better accommodate them. I move them aside and sit down in the back, closing the door behind me.
I sigh, relieved to find that the metal walls of the truck block the sounds of the souls, if only enough so that they aren't painful anymore. I change out of Dean's shirt and put on my own clothes. As I reach for my bow, arrows, and knife, I see the corner of some fabric along with a note. My curiosity piqued, I reach for the note first.
Ken,
We're sorry, but your flannel was ruined. We hope that these can replace it well enough.
Sam & Dean
I smile to myself and pull out the fabric, and find two plaid flannels, one blue and brown and the other forest green and beige. I pull on the green one, more for comfort than the chill of the air outside. I place my gun in the center console so that it is readily available after I put my other stuff in the bed of my truck. I grab my knife and my bow and arrows and climb down from the back of my truck, making sure to lock it behind me.
I climb up into the bed, using the rear tire as a step, and put my bow and arrows in their case and my knife in the box with all my other miscellaneous weapons. The comedenti venom must have made the wound heal faster, because I only mild discomfort comes from my shoulder.
As I lock my weapons box, a screech pierces the air. I wince and my left hand shoots up to plug my ear, seeing as my right hand is occupied with locking the weapons box in my truck. I turn my head and look around, but nobody else in the area seems to have noticed the screech. Huh, that's strange, it was… oh. It must have been someone's soul.
It sounded afraid, and hopeless; almost like a cry for help. I search for the source of the sound, knowing I could probably help, when the group of teenagers I noticed earlier catches my eye. On closer examination, all but one of the souls is shining brightly, and although I haven't learned how to interpret souls very well yet, I know bullies when I see them. Heaven knows I've seen plenty of them, and been on the receiving end as well.
I jump down from the back of my truck, suddenly glad I left my gun in the center console of the truck, because I might have just shot the bullies in the foot or something just on principle. Well, I wouldn't shoot them, but I might use it to scare them; I'm not that mean. As I move closer, I see a group of four boys standing over a smaller, scrawny kid trying to pick up his books and papers. The stereotypical nerd. They could be in middle school, maybe freshmen in high school.
I circle around to the back of the semicircle the bullies formed around the nerd, far enough away so they don't notice me, but close enough to intervene if things get out of hand. As I walk, I assess the situation, including which one of the boys is most likely to attack first if the situation becomes violent. I reach the back of the small nerd and step into the semicircle. Well, I'm past the point of no return.
"Hey, what're you doing guys?" I place my hands on my hips, slowly stepping in front of the small kid who has started to pick up his books and things. I hear that he is a little hopeful, but still scared.
The so-called leader of the group scowls, "You should leave girlie, before you get hurt." Wow, we're all about the same height, so do you really need to bring my gender into this.
"How about you guys just back off?" Great, I'm in it now.
I push the smaller kid behind me, and he takes the hint and backs up as the four larger kids advance. I can already tell that they are unskilled fighters, and none of them has any other weapons. I slide my right leg back, and shift my weight to the balls of my feet into a fighting stance that I have spent a long time perfecting. I sense the first attack from my left before it hits.
I dodge the roundhouse punch and do a quick throw, putting the guy on the ground, before blocking the next punch and throwing him on the ground as well. Two down, two to go. Before I can kick one of the other boys, one of them gets me in a bear hug, and the last kid moves forwards with a sickening smile on his face. I scowl defiantly, and using the guy behind me as my base, I jump and kick the kid in front of me in the chest with both feet. Hard. He stumbles back and falls over, but so does the guy holding me, pulling me down with him. I instinctively tuck my chin to avoid my head bouncing, and luckily, the kid breaks my fall. His arms fall to his sides, and I elbow him in the gut for good measure. I find myself suddenly thankful for my black belt in karate.
I slowly rise to my feet; that fall knocked the wind out of me, and I probably shouldn't have fought with my shoulder injury, but my pain is worth it if I saved that kid from a lifetime of problems, like mine, from bullying.
Speaking of bullying, the kids are all getting to their feet, massaging various body parts. When they see me on my feet, with no outwardly obvious injuries, the get to their feet as fast as they can and run. Well, they run as fast as they can with their various injuries.
I turn and see the nerd kid once again on the ground, gathering his books and papers. He must have fallen in the commotion. I kneel and help him gather his things.
"Here, let me help," I pick up and organize some of his papers and books, and pile them. "You okay?" I ask as we stand up.
He just nods vigorously and mumbles a thank you after taking his stuff from my arms.
I smile and put my hand on his shoulder. His head shoots up and looks at me. His soul is thankful, but he is still a little nervous. "Hey, don't let idiots like that get you down. You can get through this. I've been where you are, I know what this feels like. But I know you can get through this." I tell him.
"How do you know?" he asks. My breath catches slightly, as this kid just unknowingly echoed my question to Dean from earlier.
"Because I did." The kid just smiles and thanks me before rushing off.
As I walk back to my truck to grab my gun, I massage my head; the fight was a clamor of souls, and was loud and painful to hear.
When I open my eyes, I see Sam and Dean loading their stuff into the Impala, so I decide to go talk to them before I head out.
"Leaving so soon?" I jokingly ask as I saunter up to them. They turn and smile ever so slightly.
"Yeah. Are you going to be alright?" Dean asks. His posture is relaxed, but his soul practically screams concern.
"I will be. I'll just have to see. There has to be someone in this country that knows something about the comedenti aside from us."
"Well, here are our numbers," Dean says, handing me a piece of paper with both of their phone numbers on it, "Take care of yourself, Ken."
"You too." The boys start walking to the front doors of the Impala, but something I can hear in Sam's soul stops me from just leaving. "Sam," I call out, and both brothers turn. "Don't feel guilty about what happened to me. I chose to dive in front of the comedenti and save you. I knew what I was getting into. So don't feel guilty about it."
Sam smiles sadly, "I'll try."
I step up on the curb and watch as the boys drive away in their car. I stay there until I can no longer see the lights of their souls.
I walk to my truck and climb into the driver's seat. I take a deep breath, relishing the feeling of the steering wheel under my hands. I smile to myself as the engine roars to life. I shift gears and head off down the highway, into my new way of life.
A/N: The fic is not over. I repeat, this fic is not over. Reviews are appreciated, and they make me very happy. As always, Happy Reading my friends!