Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Paint Around the Empty Space ❯ Down to Cases: Sam ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1

 

Lenox Hill Hospital was a pretty big place. It wasn't exactly the most famous hospital in the country, but that didn't mean its doctors weren't any good or that it wasn't fully equipped with the best equipment it could afford.

 

It was at this hospital that one very unhappy doctor sought one very large cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts to keep that coffee—his ninth cup today, and it was only almost noon now—from burning a giant hole in his stomach.

 

Now, this doctor who was ordering the coffee was not by nature an angry guy. He got along well with his colleagues, his patients, almost everybody. But today had not been a good day, and the reason for that was lying in the psych ward right now.

 

Their John Doe had arrived three days ago, a victim of an unexplainable fire in downtown New York City. He'd been completely out of it at the time, seemingly incapable of interacting with anyone, from the doctors who examined him to the Dr. Thornton, the psychologist who came for a consult. But when an unfortunate intern had tried to stick him with an IV, the kid had gone completely wild. By the time he was sedated, that intern, two nurses and an attending were lying unconscious on the floor.

 

John Doe had been restrained in a bed in the psych ward since then, but he hadn't needed to be sedated again. Now he just…lay there, day in and day out, devoid of any emotion of expression.

 

And in that time, not one person had come. A physically healthy, good-looking man who couldn't be older than twenty-three or so had been tied to a bed for three days and not one person had come to find him.

 

Dr. Thornton hated cases like this, when troubled people who might only be suffering from loneliness or a need for contact were instead left alone to suffer because their family had abandoned them or simply couldn't be found or didn't exist.

 

So, he'd ended up at the coffee cart, drowning his sorrows in caffeine and hoping against hope to find a solution at the bottom of the next cup.

 

It was on days like this that he really wished he'd become a dentist.

 

XXX

 

The fire wasn't burning him yet, but it was coming closer. He stared at it, wondering why he wasn't more frightened. Fire was his worst fear, his mortal terror, the one thing that undid him. The one thing he couldn't handle.

 

But now there was fire in the room with him. It was inching closer all the time. It was going to kill him, and he wasn't afraid. He was just…empty.

 

Alone.

 

But…why did he feel like that now? Why did it feel so new? Hadn't he always been alone?

 

And who was he, anyway?

 

Who am I?

 

The fire crept closer.

 

XXX

 

Dr. Thornton sighed as he glanced over his John Doe's chart, trying to fight off complete and abject discouragement. His patient simply was not responding to his new medication—not that that was anything new. This kid seemed entirely immune to any drug administered to him—but that was…impossible. No one could resist everything, right?

 

Nope, he wasn't buying it. He'd had difficult cases before, and God knew he would again. He'd just…have to try something else, was all.

 

He was turning to leave when fingers locked around his wrist in an iron grip.

 

XXX

 

He wished he knew how long he'd been in the room with the fire. Not that it really mattered, he guessed—he didn't really have any pressing engagements, anyway.

 

But still, he wasn't very fond of mysteries. He didn't know why, having no clue of who he was and all, but the fact that he didn't know how long he'd been here—or where here was, for that matter—just…bugged him.

 

But he should probably get used to it, right? He couldn't leave, since there was no door or window or little tiny mouse hole in the wall, and even if he could he might not want to. He might just want to stay here, regardless of time and whatnot, where everything was at least quiet, if it wasn't exactly peaceful.

 

Then again, the fire might have other plans. He didn't know what would happen when it reached him, but he was willing to bet it wouldn't be fun.

 

Didn't change the fact that he couldn't leave, though…

 

As he was thinking it, the fire…faltered, and that was just weird. Wasn't fire supposed to be this big, powerful, unshakable thing? Was it supposed to back off like this? He didn't think so…

 

Still, best not to sit around pondering when there was escaping to be done. He seized the chance and leapt through the sudden gap in the flames.

 

XXX

 

John Doe was staring at him, but his eyes were still absolutely blank, and that creeped Dr. Thornton out more than words could say.

 

“Um…sir?” he asked uncertainly, trying gently to disengage the hand around his wrist. “Mr…um…patient, sir? Can you hear me?”

 

John Doe didn't answer—just continued to watch him.

 

“All right, I'm just…going to examine you now, okay?” Dr. Thornton said, reaching into his pocket. “Can you follow the light for me?”

 

The blank eyes most certainly did not follow the light. They didn't do anything but stare at him.

 

“O…kay…let's try this again. Can you hear me? Blink if you understand.”

 

He got nothing for his trouble except the feeling that he may as well be talking to a lamp post.

 

Finally, Dr. Thornton sighed and started to turn away, having decided to do yet more tests.

 

But there was…one small problem.

 

John Doe wasn't letting go of his arm.

 

XXX

 

He felt strangely distant as he noted that he was in a hospital, tied firmly to a bed, holding on to a doctor. The man looked a little startled, maybe even disturbed, but that didn't matter any more than anything else did.

 

The doctor spoke to him, but his voice was muted and didn't quite reach. When he got no response, he pulled something out of his pocket and there was a light. It didn't pull any reaction, though, and the doctor looked disappointed.

 

The doctor started to turn away, and suddenly there was a feeling of desperation, of need, of words bubbling up inside.

 

He spoke.

 

XXX

 

“It's…coming…”

 

The voice was hoarse, raspy, and…absolutely empty of all emotion. Scarily empty, in fact.

 

Dr. Thornton stared at the man still holding onto him, unable to believe it.

 

“Excuse me? Did you…say something?”

 

And when, exactly, had he become that person? When did he become the person who reacted this way to the unexpected? He wasn't running the tests he should be running, he wasn't administering medication or doing a CT, he was just…standing here, asking the world's stupidest questions.

 

What was it about this kid that froze him this way?

 

“The fire…”

 

Dr. Thornton started when his patient spoke again, still in that same raspy voice.

 

“The fire…it's coming…”

 

He was trying to decode this when John Doe let go of him and fell back to the bed, his face never once changing expression.

 

Dr. Thornton took a deep breath, trying in vain to steady his sudden nerves, and even though he had a dozen other patients to check on, he made no move to leave the room.

 

He was too busy wondering what the hell.

 

XXX

 

The fire was back. That made sense—the fire never really went away. But how had he gotten back here? Hadn't he…escaped? For a minute? Or…had he been here the whole time?

 

He couldn't remember anymore—it was all fading again.

 

And the fire came closer.

 

XXX

 

“I don't understand this!” Dr. Thornton burst out in frustration, throwing the folder he held back on the counter with a slap.

 

“What's up, Doc?” the intern he was currently working with asked.

 

Dr. Thornton glowered. “Funny, Tripp.”

 

Anthony looked confused. “…What?”

 

Dr. Thornton stared at him. “You mean you…” He shook his head. “Never mind,” he muttered, picking the file up again and opening it. “Here, look at this. According to his CT results, our John Doe has absolutely nothing wrong with his brain. He hadn't hit his head, he's not concussed, so he can't just be confused or delirious. His only injuries are burns, and those are healing normally. There's absolutely no reason for him to be lying in bed like some sort of…vegetable.”

 

“But he's not,” Anthony said. “He grabbed you, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Dr. Thornton said. “But only for a minute. And now…I dunno, it's like it never happened. He's back to his…waking coma, or whatever, and there's no reason for it.”

 

“But I thought you said that mental problems were unpredictable. Maybe this is just…him, being crazy.”

 

Dr. Thornton shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “But that's just it—he's not crazy. He's not talking to himself, reacting inappropriately to the situation, he's not even trying to get out of his restraints. He doesn't seem to care what's going on around him at all. That's not insanity—that's not even human.”

 

Anthony seemed to think about it for a long time. Then he shrugged and said, “Well, I'm confused.”

 

“Me, too, Tripp,” Dr. Thornton said, looking back at the folder in his hands. “Me, too.”

 

XXX

 

The flames were so close now that he could almost feel the heat of them on his face. Almost. But he couldn't really feel anything at all, and that included anything physical.

 

But he did know that he should be able to feel them as they crackled and popped their way closer—that was how close they were. And when they touched him…

 

Why didn't he feel more afraid? Why was he empty?

 

What's wrong with me?

 

And then the flames wrapped around him, and he stopped asking questions.

 

XXX

 

Dr. Thornton was about to leave for the night—after visiting the coffee cart again—when he was paged with a 911 from John Doe's room.

 

Usually Dr. Thornton met a 911 was met with a sad sigh and a question of who would need a heightened dosage, but not this one. This time, he forgot about leaving entirely and practically flew to the room.

 

Their John Doe was thrashing in his bed, fighting his restraints for the first time, and the sounds coming from his mouth were almost unearthly in their pain and absolute, raw terror. He didn't use words—he was too far gone for that. And from the number of discarded syringes on the floor, sedating him had been a total failure.

 

And five minutes ago he had been a waking vegetable.

 

This was just too weird.

 

XXX

 

It hurt.

 

He didn't know how long he'd gone without feeling anything at all, but he would give just about anything to go back to that. Not that he had anything to give, but that wasn't the point.

 

The point was…pain.

 

Lots of pain.

 

Which was weird, because the fire wasn't even there anymore. What was there, now that the fire had wrapped itself around him, was the same absolute nothing that had been there all along.

 

Nothing. It was interesting, the way people often said things like “There's nothing there” or “I see nothing.” It was never true—never. There was always something in front of a person's eyes, in the real world.

 

But here…well, here, there really was nothing. Not even darkness or light. Whenever he looked at something, he never comprehended anything. It was as if anything that reached his eyes and his mind slipped away before he could get a firm grasp on it. It was, in the truest sense of the word, nothing.

 

And now he really couldn't distract himself anymore, because this was unequivocally the worst pain ever felt by anyone in the history of the universe ever, and he was pretty sure it was never going to go away.

 

And here was something interesting—pictures. They were flashing through his head at warp-speed, pictures of pain and blood and death, and all he wanted to do was make them go away. They made him angry.

 

They made him want to kill.

 

As if that thought had been a trigger, the nothingness faded, giving way at last to the real world, the hospital, and the people in it.

 

But the pictures didn't.

 

And neither did the urge to kill.

 

XXX

 

For a guy that hadn't eaten solid foods in three days, John Doe was a pretty strong guy. Dr. Thornton noted this almost clinically as he watched Anthony Tripp and a nurse, Amy, fly in separate directions across the room, having made the mistake of trying to get their patient back into bed.

 

He was still trying to figure out how John Doe had done it—how he'd snapped the straps holding him in place like they were rubber bands and completely thrown off every drug in his system to kick the crap out of every person in the room.

 

He was still trying to figure it out when he hit the wall and spun off into the dark.

 

XXX

 

He regretted having to kill them a little. But they'd gotten in the way, and besides, at least they satisfied his urge a little bit. Not a lot, but a little.

 

Now he'd just have to go out into the world and find something a little more fulfilling—maybe some ghosts, or a few demons.

 

Maybe even a couple of possessed humans, if he couldn't find anything else…

 

There was something wrong with that, he knew, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was, and he still didn't have any emotions to help him, so he shoved the thought aside and returned to business.

 

XXX

 

Dr. Thornton managed to crawl out of the blackness long enough to watch as the patient he'd given most of his attention and most of his help to for three days walk calmly out of the room as if nothing had ever happened to him.

 

That was weird, too, but the dark was creeping up on him again, and he succumbed to it without another thought.

 

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Author's Note: The next chapter may take just a bit longer to put up, since I'm going back to school next week and won't be quite so bored, but it won't be too terribly long. Review, please!