Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Paint Around the Empty Space ❯ Going, Going, Gone ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4

 

It was after Dean finished reading the same paragraph for the dozenth time that he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

 

A little puzzled, he cast back through his memories. He'd slept the night before the last hunt with Sam, and then he'd gone to…Hell—although he was beginning to wonder whether that place had been Hell, after all. Well, wherever it was, time hadn't really seemed to pass there, so he wasn't entirely sure he could count it. But if he did count it, then…he added it all up in his head and realized he hadn't slept in a week.

 

Just the thought of it made his limbs and his eyelids droop with limp exhaustion, and for a second his head sagged into his hand. But he jerked himself back into full wakefulness almost instantly, reminding himself sternly that nothing was more important right now than finding Sam.

 

A loud snore from across the room disagreed—firmly—with that statement, and Dean glanced up from his book again to toss an irritated glance at Bobby, who was slumped over the table, deep in slumber. Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn't bring himself to wake the older hunter. He'd just do all the work himself, for a little while...

 

Five minutes later, he was still sitting up in his bed, with his back against the headboard, but he, like Bobby, was asleep.

 

And dreaming.

 

He saw Sam.

 

The kid looked…good. Really good. A freakish giant with unnaturally large hands and feet and ridiculously long hair that never seemed to stay out of his face for long, but…well, that was just Sam. And right now, that was really all Dean wanted.

 

But…maybe it wasn't all Dean wanted, because something wasn't right.

 

Sam looked sad. And angry. And…empty.

 

“Sam?” Dean said uncertainly. “Is something...going on with you? `Cause you don't look nearly as happy to see me as I am to see you.”

 

Sam blinked slowly at him. Then he spoke, and his voice was as empty as his eyes.

 

“You shouldn't have left me, Dean.”

 

And then he pulled out a knife and calmly stuck it in between Dean's ribs, and as he fell, Sam turned around and walked away.

 

Dean woke with a start and realized dimly, through the terrified haze, that his phone has been ringing for the past few minutes at least. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he fumbled for the annoying thing and glanced at the caller ID. The number seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to place it.

 

“H'lo?”

 

“Is this Dean?”

 

A number of sarcastic replies flashed through his mind, but instead of summoning the energy to use them, he just said wearily, “Yeah. Who'm I talking to?”

 

“It's Cal. Cal Leandros. Remember me?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, the fuzziness beginning to fade into confusion. “`Course I do.” Something important tugged at his memory as he said it, but it was gone the moment he tried to pin it down. “Everything okay?”

 

“Actually, I really don't think it is. `Cause see, right now I'm sitting here trying not to fall asleep because I have a concussion and Niko'll kill me if I go comatose on him.”

 

“Uh-huh. Sounds sucky. But this really isn't a good—”

 

“Wanna know how I got the concussion?” Cal interrupted.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyways.”

 

“Oh, believe me, you want to know. I got the concussion in a fight with your brother.”

 

The last of the bleariness disappeared entirely and several facts clicked into place at once—namely, the one that had evaded him earlier, that Cal and Niko were actually based in New York City and really should have been the first people he called when this happened. He immediately felt like a total moron, but he brushed the feeling aside in favor of questioning Cal further.

 

“You saw him?”

 

“More than saw him. He attacked me when I was investigating this rash of murders that's popped up, and he knocked me flat before Niko got the upper hand on him.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you hurt him?” Dean asked. “If either one of you hurt him I'll…”

 

“Relax,” Cal cut him off, sounding unconcerned with the implied threat. “We didn't do anything permanent. And considering the number of bruises Sam gave me, the fact that Nik didn't kill him makes him damn lucky.”

 

Dean took a deep breath and tried to control the anger clouding his vision. “Bottom line, Cal. Where is he now?”

 

“That's what I was trying to tell you before you went all big-brother on me. We've got him here at the apartment with us.”

 

Dean's fingers went numb, and the phone slipped from his hand onto the floor. He hadn't been expecting that, for some reason. He'd been sure Cal was about to tell him that Sam gotten away, had run off to hide in some other part of the enormous city to slip further through the cracks and evade his brother's grasp yet again. But to be told that Sam was with friends—safe—was almost enough to break down the last of his defenses.

 

But not quite…not yet. Not until he saw his brother with his own eyes.

 

Cal's voice reached his ears then, quiet and muffled but demanding nonetheless that Dean say something to him right now. Trembling slightly, Dean leaned over to pick up the phone. He managed to speak without his voice shaking, and even to inject some measure of authority into it.

 

“Where are you?”

 

XXX

 

Cal hung up the phone and tossed it aside, then looked at Niko. “He's on his way. He says he's bringing someone with him—some kind of mentor, or something weird like that. Wouldn't tell me what's been going on, but he sounded…off.”

 

Nik nodded as he finished wrapping Sam's arm. The young hunter was still as unconscious as when he'd arrived, and now that they'd had a chance to look him over they saw that Niko had done more damage than he'd originally thought. Cal had been speaking the truth when he said that none of it was permanent, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt when Sam woke up.

 

“You know Dean's gonna kill you for all that,” Cal said, gesturing to Sam's sprained—or maybe a little bit broken—wrist, his smattering of mottled bruises, and the caked blood on the side of his head that Niko hadn't gotten around to cleaning off yet.

 

“He's welcome to try,” Niko said calmly, reaching for the rag on the bedside table to do just that. “I could use the exercise.”

 

“Anyone ever tell you you're a little bit psychotic?”

 

“Yes, I've heard that before. You may not want to be so quick to share your opinion, though.” The last part was said with the vague hint of a threat, and Cal wisely decided to drop it.

 

“Well, anyways, he should be here pretty soon—he sounded…kinda panicked.”

 

“Which lends itself to the possibility that there's something bad going on here,” Niko added.

 

“Well, yeah,” Cal said, gesturing again to Sam, who still hadn't moved. “Sam attacked me, Niko. Sam. Last time we met, he wasn't someone who would do that. We were…well, not friends, but at least friendly. What could've happened to him, Nik?”

 

Niko sighed and put the bloody rag aside. “I really don't know, Cal.”

 

“And more importantly,” Cal added without acknowledging his brother's words, “what are we gonna do when he wakes up?”

 

Niko raised an eyebrow and looked down at Sam, then sighed again. “Well, I don't relish the idea of knocking him on the head again, so we'll just have to hope that Dean's here by then. At least then he can do the honors.”

 

Cal groaned a little. “Great.”

 

XXX

 

“So you're sure that these guys are okay?”

 

Dean gritted his teeth at the question, which Bobby had already asked twice but didn't seem to be above asking again. “Yes, Bobby. I'm sure. I mean, they're…well, they're like us—they protect their own and exclude everything else. But they have no reason to want to hurt us. Sam's safe with them.”

 

As long as he doesn't try to hurt one of them.

 

Normally the thought wouldn't even have occurred to him. Funny how things turned out…

 

“Yeah, but are they safe with Sam?” Bobby countered, unwittingly echoing his thoughts.

 

Dean looked flatly at him. “Don't say that again.”

 

Bobby looked away. “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

Dean didn't answer—he just pushed his car harder, determined to get to Sam before things got any more screwed up.

 

XXX

 

Sam looked…bad.

 

After everything he'd been through, it felt a little pathetic that that was all Dean could come up with, but it was true. Sam just looked…bad, bad enough that Dean wondered if someone hadn't made a mistake somewhere, and he'd been gone five years instead of five days.

 

Sam's skin was pale, almost bone-white under a thin film of dirt. His hair was ragged and tangled and he was so thin that Dean was willing to bet every one of his ribs could be counted if someone lifted his shirt, his clothes loose-fitting, torn, and probably stolen.

 

Slowly, tentatively, he stepped closer to the bed, feeling three pairs of eyes boring into his back as he did so. Legs only an inch or so from the mattress, he looked down at his brother, and felt his face go almost as pale as Sam's with anger as he was able to make out the scattered bruises, the cut on Sam's head and the bandage on his arm.

 

Without thinking, he spun around to glare at Niko and Cal. “What did you do?”

 

Niko looked appraisingly at him. “What I had to. He was going to kill me and I defended myself. I patched him up, and his body will heal quickly. I do apologize for hurting him, but not for my purpose. I only wanted to protect my family.”

 

Dean's gaze flicked to Cal, who looked a little embarrassed but met Dean's gaze defiantly, daring him to berate Niko further. After a moment, Dean lowered his eyes and turned back to Sam, saying quietly, “I just wish it hadn't gone that far.”

 

“I understand,” Niko said sincerely. “I can't imagine what you're going through right now.” Then he looked at Cal, and something flashed across both their faces for a second before Niko said softly, “Then again, maybe I can.”

 

“When do you think he'll wake up?” Dean asked, changing the uncomfortable subject.

 

Niko shrugged. “I hit him fairly hard, and I think he was skirting the edge as it was. He may only be catching up on sleep, and if that's the case, it could be hours. Nevertheless, I think we should come up with a plan quickly, to subdue him if he wakes early.”

 

Dean shrugged. “I'm up for anything as long as it doesn't involve you hurting him more.”

 

Niko smiled a little. “I don't think that will be necessary. We have some sedatives stored away for emergencies, if you'll give us permission to use them.”

 

“You keep sedatives lying around?”

 

Niko shrugged. “You never know then they may come in handy.”

 

“Well, I don't have a problem with you using them on him—once. Don't wanna risk the side effects.” Slowly, Dean reached out and brushed a hand lightly over Sam's bandaged arm, sighing inwardly when his brother didn't react in the slightest. Then he sat down on the bed, barely managing to fold himself in the remaining space, and said, “So what now?”

 

“Now,” Niko said, sitting cross-legged in the other bed, his hands resting on his knees while Cal sat down with his back against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest, and Bobby collapsed into the only remaining chair. “You tell us what happened to bring us all here.”

 

XXX

 

“Well,” Cal said matter-of-factly after Dean finished the story, “your life kinda sucks.”

 

Dean sighed and brushed his hand over Sam's arm again. “Tell me about it. Now what're we gonna do about it?” He was silent for a second, then suddenly turned to Bobby and asked, “You called Missouri yet?”

 

Bobby shook his head. “Still too late there. And really still too late here. I—”

 

The ringing of his phone blasted through whatever he was going to say next, and Dean smirked a little as he jumped about two feet before going to grab it. He glanced at the caller ID, and his eyes widened. “Well, speak o' the devil…”

 

“What's up?” Dean asked, but Bobby silenced him with a single look as he opened the phone.

 

“Hey, Mo,” the older hunter said, sounding a little shaken.

 

The whole room heard Missouri's reply as Bobby held the phone away from his ear to protect his ears from the psychic's piercing chastisements—all of which centered around Bobby's chosen nickname for her.

 

“Mo…Missouri…can I get a word in?” Bobby asked in vain. He looked very much as if he wanted to yell, but didn't quite dare, and Dean almost—almost—felt like smiling.

 

Meanwhile, Missouri's voice rang clearly throughout the room.

 

“And why didn't you just call me? You been sittin' there trying to decide whether or not to wake me up when you shoulda known good and well that I needed to be there helpin' Sam this whole time!”

 

“Well, I was worried that—”

 

“I know what you were worryin' about, and I'm tellin' you you're a fool, that's what. You scared of this old woman? Is that it?”

“Yes,” Bobby said, loudly enough for her to at least hear him. Still, for all the good it did, he might as well have stayed silent—Missouri went right on ranting, simply changing her speech to respond to the reply.

 

“Well, that's smart of you, I'll give you that, but you made a stupid choice, Bobby Singer. The only reason I'm takin' it easy on you—”

 

“This is taking it easy?” Bobby asked weakly.

 

“—Is because I'm on my way there right now and I'd rather tear you a new one in person. So—”

 

“Wait. You're on your way?” Bobby asked. “Already?”

 

“What do you mean, already? I been on the road for two days, ever since I sensed there was trouble with the Winchester boys. I'm only a couple hours out now. Are the boys with you now?”

 

Dean was way too tired to bristle at the word “boys.”

 

“Yeah,” Bobby replied to her question.

 

“Well, I'd ask what happened, but I'd rather wait `til I can see you. Keep those boys safe until I get there.”

 

“You don't have to tell me that, Mo.”

 

Her voice softened very slightly for the first time as she said, “I know. I'll see you soon.”

 

“Yeah. See ya,” Bobby replied.

 

“What was that all about?” Cal asked the minute Bobby hung up.

 

“Missouri,” Dean answered before Bobby could. “She's a psychic—a damn powerful one. If anyone can help Sam…” He took a deep breath and looked back down at his brother. Sam slept on, oblivious, probably more peaceful now than he had been in a long time.

 

“If anyone can, it's her.”

 

XXX

 

Sam woke up before Missouri could get there, and wasn't that just the way Dean's luck had been running lately?

 

His waking wasn't by any means peaceful. It involved a lot of screaming, a lot of thrashing, and a couple of attempts to murder anyone within five feet—which was pretty much the whole room—before Dean threw himself on his brother to restrain him.

 

By the time Niko managed to use what Cal called his “super awesome ninja skills” to sedate the younger Winchester without snapping the needle, Dean was more shaken than he'd been in a long time, and Bobby was grouchier than ever. But Sam was peaceful and quiet again, so that was really all that mattered.

 

“I don't get it,” Dean said quietly after everything had settled down and he was again sitting at his brother's side.

 

“What?” Niko, who had also resumed his same position, asked.

 

“I don't get why he attacked me like that. I mean, it's because of me that he got this way in the first place, so…why isn't my being here making it any better?”

 

Bobby shrugged. “Could be that he doesn't know what's going on around him—that he's just reacting to the feeling of people around him without knowing who they are. Or it could be that he thinks it's just a trick—or he could just have so much in his head right now that he can't separate the reality from the visions. I dunno, I'm no psychic. You'll have to ask Missouri when she gets here.”

 

“In the meantime,” Niko said pointedly, “we should try and get some sleep. You two look exhausted and Cal…well, Cal just gets very cranky if he feels he's being deprived of his full twenty-three hours.”

 

Cal made a face at him, but Dean shook his head adamantly. “No. You're right, you guys…should sleep. But I'm staying with Sam.”

 

Niko sighed in exasperation, and Cal grinned at him. “See? That's what you look like. Annoying, huh?”

 

“You are simply brimming with comedic lines today, little brother,” Niko said, pointing implacably at the space on the bed beside him. Cal grumbled a little, but he got up and walked to the bed anyway, and was quite literally asleep the minute his head touched the pillow.

 

“Wow,” Dean said in admiration. “Wish I had that kind of control over him.” He tilted his head toward Sam a little, feeling a twinge when Sam still didn't respond.

 

Niko shrugged. “He's much more stubborn than he seems, actually—to the point that he can be impossible to deal with. It's only that he never argues against sleep.” He looked around at his brother, and a small smile softened his face before he turned back to Dean. “Don't worry. You'll soon be able to argue with yours again.”

 

Dean tried to look confident, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably. Niko didn't comment on it, though—simply rested his hands on his knees in what looked like a meditative pose, closed his eyes, and began to breathe deeply as the room went silent once more.

 

XXX

 

It was almost an hour later when someone finally knocked on the door. Dean didn't move from his spot on the bed as Niko got up to let Missouri in, but he did turn to greet the psychic as she stepped inside.

 

“Hey, Missouri,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

 

“Not a problem,” she replied, turning to Niko and saying, “Honey, I just want to let you know that it's real nice of you to let these boys stay with you like this. I know it's real hard for you to trust anyone that much.”

 

Niko's jaw tightened, but he nodded with no visible anger at her invasion of his mind and then went over to the bed and gave Cal a well-placed slap to the knee that had the younger Leandros brother sitting up with an indignant splutter.

 

Missouri, meanwhile, greeted Bobby without berating him too much, and then went to sit beside Dean on the bed. She looked sympathetically at Dean. “Oh, Dean, stop it. It's not your fault—you couldn't have helped it. It's certainly not the first time one of you has been captured by evil.”

 

Dean nodded and said tightly, “Yeah. Just…make this better, okay?”

 

She smiled. “That's a tall order. Then again, you Winchesters were never above tall orders, were you?” When he didn't answer, she sighed slightly and said, “I need some room. Go stand over there.” She pointed to the space between the two beds, and Dean reluctantly obeyed. Once he was far enough away, Missouri looked away and focused solely on Sam, reaching out to grip Sam's hand in her own and closing her eyes.

 

The room fell utterly silent, everyone watching with varying degrees of anxiety while Missouri did…whatever. Finally, though, Missouri opened her eyes and let go of Sam, looking around at the rest of them.

 

“Well?” Dean asked, a little more harshly than he'd intended.

 

Missouri sighed. “His mind is jumbled. It's just a big swirl of panic and reaction—he really has no plans, no ideas, no thoughts. That's what's causing him to lash out—he feels people around, and no matter who they are, he sees them as a threat and…attacks. It's just base instinct. Unfortunately, he's strong—stronger than he's ever been before, physically and psychically, because he's acting on pure instinct.”

 

“Yeah, but what does that mean?” Dean asked impatiently.

 

“It means that with my personality, I only frighten him when I try to enter his mind. I feel harsh to him, and because he doesn't recognize me, I scare him. It's lucky he's sedated—he can't control himself because of that, or he might have hurt me.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, Dean. I can't help him.”

 

Dean stared at her blankly, her words making no sense all of a sudden. The world seemed to be spinning around him, as if he was on a really bad roller coaster. Bobby said something, but his voice was distant, faraway, and incomprehensible.

 

Then the room seemed to tilt, and the next thing Dean knew, everything had gone black.