Dean woke up with a start, dazed and confused by unfamiliar surroundings. His mind felt slow and hazy as he tried to piece together what had transpired before he had blacked out. He remembered rain, kissing Mack and one very pissed off Roman as a result.
You stupid...
Mack.
He sat up entirely too fast, the world spinning and his chest protesting vehemently at the action. He didn't care, forcing himself to get a grip as he ripped away the tubes and sensors monitoring his heartbeat, sending the nearby cardiac monitor to drone it's high pitched flat line. Even with his system pumped half full of pain killers he still hurt just about everywhere, gritting his teeth as he slowly stood up before catching his reflection in a nearby mirror. He was covered in a multitude of dark bruises, cuts and grazes, his left arm heavily bandaged from his wrist to his elbow, a cheek looking like it had a losing argument with a cheese grater while his left eye was all but swollen shut and his right brow was crowned by a line of several stitches. Dean looked pretty much how he felt – like he just had his ass kicked.
So how the hell did he end up in a hospital?
At that moment the door opened, the doctor surprised to see him not only awake but also up and around, "Sir, I must insist that you return to bed, you're in no condition to go anywhere."
"That's not happening," he retorted, limping around the room and searching for any of his belongings. The gown they had dressed him in was rather breezy, "Now where the hell are my clothes?"
"Mister Ambrose, please," the doctor insisted, "I cannot in all good conscience discharge you in your current state. You need to be under observation overnight at the very least-"
"Can it," he growled, surprising the surgeon as he grabbed a fistful of his crisp white coat, "I don't care if you discharge me or not, I'm damn well going. I don't have time to deal with this crap. Now where is my stuff?"
"Pretty much all scrapped."
Dean turned to find Seth standing in the doorway, one hand stuffed loosely into the pocket of his jeans and the other held a small bag as he took in the injuries that decorated his face. "You look like you went through a car wreck." Dean glanced between Rollins and the good doctor but refused to say anything. If he opened his mouth the doc would think him crazy for a start and god only knew what would happen then. Seth looked as though he understood and turned to the other man, "Do you think you can give us a moment?"
The doctor's lips pursed into a thin line, clearly not pleased with his stubborn patient or his cryptic friend who had been hanging around for hours, "I'll give you a few minutes. Please try and get it through his head that he's in no state to go anywhere."
He nodded casually and stood to one side, making sure the door was shut and no-one was lurking around outside. When he was satisfied he passed the bag over to Dean who all but tore it open, finding fresh clothes inside and immediately began to get dressed, hissing occasionally as his battered body protested his hurried pace.
"So I get some random phone call in the middle of the night from Mack and it sounded like all hell was breaking loose. I haul ass around there to find the house half destroyed and you passed out in the middle of it all, beaten within an inch of your life. Shit, man, I thought you were dead at first glance. What the hell happened?" He watched as Dean opened his mouth to say something only to stop, a look of frustration crossing his face and unsure of how to explain any of it, "It has something to do with that bite, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Dean finally answered, "It does." With a heavy sigh he paced a few steps, trying to piece his thoughts together, "He's not right in the head any more, it's like his mental state is devolving into simple caveman instincts."
"Dude, just tell me exactly what the fuck is going on." Dean looked over at him in surprise, finding Seth's calm demeanour had changed, "What the hell is so bad that I found Roman's gun lying on the god damn bed and the bullets in the pocket of your jacket?"
"Wait, what?"
"The one they had that huge blow up about, remember?" At the sudden alarm on Dean face, Seth raised his hands in placative reassurance, "Don't worry, I grabbed it before the cops showed up, didn't think any of us would need whatever complications it would bring up. Speaking of which, I won't be surprised if that doctor had called them by now to let them know you're awake."
"Shit," Dean muttered, cops were the last thing he needed right now, "You help get me out of here and I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but we have to go now."
"Alright," Seth agreed, opening the door a crack to see the doctor chatting to the head nurse at reception down the other end of the hall while going over a chart in his hand, then reached over the desk for the phone. Taking a quick glance in the other direction he decided the coast was clear and signalled Dean to follow him, the two men slipping out of the hospital unnoticed.
Not really knowing where else to go, Seth took Dean to the first place that came to mind; the restaurant. In the small hours of the morning it seemed almost too quiet when it was closed, a small lamp on a table close to the kitchen the only source of light in the room. Dean idly played with a now empty coffee mug as he watched Seth while he took in the wild story he had just been told. It was a stark contrast to the man whom Seth had for years called friend that it was almost impossible to believe.
"She actually went back?" Dean simply nodded in reply, Seth leaning back in the chair and letting out a heavy sigh. "That is either the bravest thing I've ever heard of, or the most crazy. I'm not sure which."
For the countless time Dean fought the urge to wince as he moved, instinctively bringing a hand up against his side and trying to soothe a broken rib. His mind was a mix of worry and anger, what the hell had she been thinking actually walking back into that hellish mess? They could have gone absolutely anywhere in the world, started their lives over. A part of him blamed himself, if had simply grown a set and come clean years a go maybe they could have avoided this mess entirely. He just hadn't want to chance rejection and turning things awkward between them so he had repressed his feelings and was now paying the price.
Stupid move, Ambrose. Really stupid.
He stuck his hand into the pocket of his jacket that Seth had snatched up before the cops and paramedics had shown up, fingering the small box of hollow point rounds. Maybe she hadn't gone back for Roman after all, maybe she had simply gone back for the gun. Almost as soon as he thought of the idea he dismissed it. Mack hated firearms and had seen first hand the horrible damage they could do to the human body a time or two while on the job. But did this whole situation have her that spooked that she was willing to set aside such a strong feeling?
He shook his head a little, trying to clear the countless questions chasing each other around. There was only one thing that mattered to him now, tracking Mackenzie down and getting her away from whatever Roman was becoming.
"Where do you think you're going?" Seth asked when Dean stood, his face twisting into a grimace as he bit down on his pain. "Wait, you not actually thinking of going after them?"
"What would you do if it was Leia?"
The simple question rooted Seth to the spot as understanding dawned on him. It certainly explained Dean's initial behaviour towards Roman when he had first started dating Mackenzie, and if he had to be blunt the man had been a down right dick for some time. There was a certain grim determination about the man now, and Seth knew that only way he would stop on this insane crusade was if something killed him. With a heavy conscience Rollins slid a set of keys across the table.
"The gun is in the glove box, though I really hope you won't have to use it."
Mackenzie woke up feeling none the better after the sedated sleep. The parts of her that ached were barely letting up, not helped at all by being cramped up on the back seat. In fact she was sure she had a few more to add to the list.
It took a moment or two for it to register that they had stopped, the clear sky a soft red with the dawning sun. Sitting up she rubbed at her eyes, trying to shake off the groggy feeling that had her feeling sluggish. How she hated taking those damned pills. Peering out of the windshield she saw Roman sitting on the hood and wondered how long he had been like that for. Climbing out of the truck she stretched, trying to work out some of the stiffness that had settled into her bones. Hesitating a minute, Mack warily approached the front of the vehicle though Roman didn't give any indication that he was even aware of her presence, but by now she wasn't going to trust that at face value.
"I see you found it," he said quietly after a moment as he stole a sideways glance. Sleepy confusion crossed her face before he casually gestured at the left pocket of her jeans. The pendant had begun to worm its way out of its denim confines, the delicate chain defying the escape attempt. "It was supposed to be your birthday present for next month. Never thought you'd ever go snooping around that box in a million years. Then again, it's not like I left you much of a choice."
Mack could hear the guilt in his tone. Carefully picking the necklace out her fingers absently threaded themselves through the silver chain, unsure of what to do with the trinket now. He watched her carefully as Mack had a moment of indecisiveness before joining him on his perch.
"I remember what I did that night. What made you run to Ambrose." She suddenly became unnaturally still at the unwanted reminder and it made him sick to his stomach. "Part of me wishes you had just stayed away... but is it selfish of me to be glad to know that you didn't?" He wasn't really expecting an answer, merely giving voice to the thoughts that had been running through his head, so when she finally spoke the statement surprised him.
"It's... not your fault."
Was that a hint of forgiveness? He certainly didn't feel like he had either earned or deserved it.
"There's a thing inside you now, a darkness, I get that. It's damn hard to accept, but still, I get it. When it takes over you're not... well, you." Her fingers twitched, curling around the pendant even tighter. "It's not your fault."
He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. The medication had managed to subdue his feral side over the night, despite its attempt to fight it, but it had left him feeling drained. Coupled with his recent penchant for avoiding the majority of the daylight hours he felt so tired.
"You think it's smart going back?"
"Honestly? More than likely not," she admitted reluctantly, "But what if we can manage to kill what bit you. Maybe it could... It's not like other so called solutions to change you back are any less crazy."
Reverse the curse by killing the Loup Garou? Insane as it sounded Roman hadn't much else to lose at this point. If there was even the slimmest chance then he was going to seize it with both hands, before anyone else could get hurt...
Hey, seems I may be getting back into the swing of things! I probably shouldn't jinx it like that, but it feels good to have the motivation to write again, even if it is just a little bit at a time...
Also, as you may have noticed, a slight tweak in the title. Even before I disappeared my brain had plans of maybe following up this with a second story and the original title seems as though it will work better when/if I ever get around to it.
Now be nice and show me you care ;)