Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ In Omnia Paratus ❯ EVERYONE MUST DANCE! ( Chapter 10 )

AN: Just a quick note here to apologize for a) the amount of time it took to get this chapter out and b) the shortness of said chapter. But with finals coming up and everything I'm seriously considering ripping my own head off, and I just don't have a lot of time to write. I hate it, hate it, hate it, but what can ya do, right? Anyways, enjoy, now that it's finally turned up!

 

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Los Angeles, California

 

“So what do you know about this Sam Winchester?” Cordelia asked, tossing the last outfit into her suitcase and closing it with a flourish.

 

Angel, who had been watching her pack with amusement—it was always fun to guess how much clothing she'd bring—shrugged. “No more than you do, really. Like I said, Willow and I didn't talk long. All she said was that he had a vision-dream-thing last night, and that he's apparently had them before, since his brother knew right away exactly what had happened. He woke up the entire house screaming, so it must have been pretty horrible, but Willow didn't elaborate. She just said we'd talk when we get there.”

 

“Sounds very hush-hush.”

 

“No, I don't think so. It sounded more like she was distracted by something.” Angel shrugged again, and looked at his watch. “Well, we'll find out eventually. Hey, are we driving there?”

 

“I don't care. Whatever you want.”

 

“Well, I'd rather drive, then. We don't have much to spend on a plane and it's not that far. Which means that if we leave by seven we should get there before midnight.”

 

Cordelia smiled slyly in Angel's direction. “Are you sure you don't want to take a plane?”

 

“Why does it matter? Just a few hours' difference, is all.”

 

“Okay,” Cordelia said in singsong.

 

“What's with you?” Angel asked.

 

“Nothing, nothing, not a thing.”

 

“You have tease-Angel-mercilessly face. Want to share?”

 

Cordelia's smile widened, but she obviously decided to take pity on him. “I just thought you'd want to get there as fast as possible…”

 

“But why…oh, come on, Cordy!” Angel groaned, exasperated, having finally figured it out. “I told you, Buffy and I…we're on hold, or on hiatus, or whatever you want to call it. Okay? There's no reason for me to rush to see her. It's pointless. So stop harping.”

 

“Well, I didn't say it was reasonable.”

 

“Cordelia! Stifle!”

 

Cordelia subsided, but not without a few chuckles.

 

“Stop it!”

 

XXX

 

Sunnydale, California

 

“Your grandmother was a Seer, too.”

 

It had been almost half an hour since Kurama had let loose with this news, and Sam still couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the concept. He and Dean were now sitting on the floor in a corner of the shop, as far removed from the group as they could get without boring through the wall, but neither of them was speaking.

 

The others had gone on researching, but tactfully left the Winchesters alone, because even if the information didn't mean much to most of them, it obviously meant a lot to Sam and Dean.

 

“Well, I guess we know why you have the visions,” Dean said, breaking the silence at last.

 

Sam looked at him, and saw that he was sitting with his elbows resting on his crossed knees, his chin propped on the knuckles of one fist. It was a pose he only assumed when he was trying to work something out—usually his own thoughts. It was also deceptively casual—only Sam and sometimes John knew that it was anything but.

 

“They're genetic,” Dean continued, taking no notice of Sam's assessment. “I mean, I guess they skip a generation or something, but…” He shook his head. “This is unbelievable. I wonder if Dad knows…”

 

Well, Sam knew how to respond to that, at least. “If he does, he wouldn't be likely to tell us, now, would he?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, but time had taught him not to bother defending John Winchester. Sam had made up his mind about the man long ago and that was it. “Well, doesn't matter anyway. At least we don't have to wonder anymore.”

 

“Are you kidding me? This just brings up more questions, even if it does answer one,” Sam said distractedly. “When did it start? Why? Were there others? Are there others now? Is that why Mom was killed? And what about Jess? Did she have the same…I dunno…legacy, if that's what we're calling it now? And why don't you have them? You're older…if it just skips a generation how did I end up with it?” The list of questions went on and on in his mind, and Sam almost wished he had never found out any of this.

 

XXX

 

“Pizza call!”

 

As one, Willow, Buffy, and Tara all dropped their books with sighs of profound relief as Xander closed the door behind him and came to drop the two pizza boxes he held. Giles, too, put down his text, though he took much longer about it. Kurama didn't drop his at all—just came over and put a couple slices on a napkin and went back to sit by Hiei with his knows still practically glued to the pages. And Sam and Dean didn't emerge from the corner at all.

 

“Are you guys gonna eat or what?” Xander called out, then winced when Willow slapped him on the arm.

 

“Leave them alone,” she whispered.

 

“Why? What…?”

 

Willow shook her head. “Later.”

 

XXX

 

“You hungry? Want some pizza?”

 

Dean's voice seemed to be coming from very far away, and even after Sam managed to hear the words, it took him a few moments to straighten them out in his mind and even longer to form a reply. “Uh…no. No, thanks.” He didn't notice his own voice shaking. Dean did.

 

“Hey, what's the matter?”

 

Sam took longer to answer that time, and when he did he sounded altogether uncertain. “Yeah, I'm good. Just a headache. Or…the start of one, maybe.”

 

“Oh. Need your pills?”

 

“They're back at Buffy's house.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and went for his pocket. “Honestly, what do you wake me for? Here.”

 

Sam blinked, bemused, at the bottle that was thrust into his hand. “How—”

 

“Took them off the nightstand, genius.”

 

“Oh…right…” Sam said vaguely, still staring at the bottle.

 

“Well, are you gonna take them?” Dean asked with a bite of impatience.

 

Sam stared at the pills for a long moment, and then tucked them into his own pocket. “No. It's not that bad. I'll take a couple if it starts getting worse.”

 

“Okay, your choice. But you should eat something, anyway.”

 

And before Sam could refuse, Dean was gone.

 

XXX

 

Los Angeles, California

 

“Okay, so we'll be back in a few days, if everything goes okay. You'll be able to hold things down?”

 

Wesley Wyndam—Pryce somehow managed to smile and look annoyed at the same time. “We're perfectly capable, Angel. We've worked by ourselves before.”

 

“I know, I'm sorry. Just…making sure.”

 

“It's fine, Angel. Get outta here,” Charles Gunn said with a grin, tossing the vampire his coat.

 

“Okay, we're gone,” Cordelia said, grabbing Angel's arm. “C'mon, you, the sooner we leave the sooner we'll get there,” she added with a mischievous grin.

 

“Oh, my God!”

 

XXX

 

Sunnydale, California

 

Dean closed his book and dropped his head onto the table. “This is hopeless. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore.”

 

Xander went for another slice of the now-stone-cold pizza. “Welcome to our world. Here, try this one.”

 

Dean jumped as another book thudded onto the table in front of him. “Good God, man! How many books does Giles have?”

Xander shrugged. “I dunno, but seeing as I've been using `em since my sophomore year in high school and I still haven't found the end of the collection, I'm guessing a lot.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to issue another complaint when Sam, sitting across from them, groaned softly. Dean looked just in time to see his brother reach up to rub his forehead. “Time for pills yet?” he asked, very casually.

 

Sam didn't seem to notice him speaking, and Dean felt the now-familiar worry forming in his stomach. “Sam?”

 

“Huh?” Sam mumbled intelligently.

 

“Do. You. Need. Your. Pills,” Dean asked slowly.

 

“No, why would I?”

 

“Because you keep rubbing your head.”

 

“I do?” Sam looked truly bewildered, but the expression was marred by the yawn he was trying to smother.

 

Dean shook his head. Sam had been like this for hours now—vague, distant, hardly there at all, and most of all, tired. His skin was slightly paler than usual, and his eyes had dark circles under them, and he looked completely horrible. But there was no way to get him to take a break, let alone go back to the Summers' house and catch some z's.

 

Sometimes Dean cursed Winchester stubbornness—conveniently forgetting that it ran strongest in himself.

 

That wasn't the point, anyway.

 

XXX

 

An hour later, the clock struck eleven, the group had finished an average of five books each and turned up zilch, Sam was barely able to speak in coherent sentences, and Dean decided it was time to go.

 

Sam had been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, his eyes unmoving, and he didn't even notice when his brother closed his book and stood up. Dean gave him a long look, and then went to find Buffy.

 

He found her in the room that Giles had called the training room, going ten rounds with a punching bag. He leaned against the wall and watched for a moment, and found himself grudgingly impressed. For a tiny blonde Barbie-looking chick, she sure seemed to have some upper-body strength. The poor punching bag didn't stand a chance.

 

“Y'know, it's probably not healthy to have such a hatred for an inanimate object.”

 

Buffy didn't flinch. She followed through with her punch, sending the bag swinging, and then turned. “Hi.”

 

“Hey,” Dean replied. He looked around the room and, mostly to cover the awkwardness, said idly, “Nice room.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Giles put it together for me a while after we blew up the school library where I used to train.”

 

That sounded like an interesting story, but Dean didn't really feel like getting into it right now. “Oh. Cool.”

 

“So…did you want something?”

 

“Yeah…uh…I was just wondering if you guys minded calling it quits for tonight. Or at least move this to your house.”

 

“Why?”

 

Dean paused at that, wracking his brain. “Well, isn't that Angel guy gonna be here soon?”

 

“Yeah, but I left a note saying where we were, so it's taken care of.”

 

So that excuse was out the window. “Well, uh, I think we may have about reached the end of the books.”

 

Buffy snorted. “Yeah, right. I don't think Giles' collection ever ends. Come on, what's really up?”

 

She was good. Damn. “Fine, so it's the only way I can get same to catch some sleep. He looks like hell and if we go back to your house and take the books with us I might have a chance of at least getting him to lie down on his bed and read instead of sitting in a crappy wooden chair. And if I can get him to lie down for one second I know he'll be out like a light. That good enough for you?”

 

Buffy just smiled, and Dean felt a flicker of irritation. God, she's annoying…hot, though.

 

XXX

 

Dean had cause to curse the stubbornness in his own genes many more times before he got Sam back to the Summers home and settled in his temporary bed. Sam could barely talk at that point, but that didn't stop him from making feeble protests the entire walk back. Even the fact that everyone else was going with them didn't satisfy him—he saw right through it even as tired as he was.

 

And in between trying to deal with Sam's “lawyer tricks”—even though he'd never actually made it to law school, he was extremely skillful in the use of argument—Dean also had his brother's physical and mental well-being to worry about. The kid didn't seem to know what to do with himself. If Dean hadn't been guiding him he probably would have wandered off into Nevada or somewhere, and he reached up to rub his forehead repeatedly, then, when Dean dared comment, snapped that he did not have a headache.

 

Then, when they finally got back, it took nearly ten minutes to get Sam into bed. Dean only won the fight after shoving a stack of books at Sam and snapping that he could research just as well from the bed as he could at a table.

 

And just as he'd predicted, Sam had barely opened one of the books before he was asleep.

 

XXX

 

Cordelia and Angel arrived a little before midnight. They let themselves in, silently, so not even Buffy knew that there was anyone in the house until the two walked into the kitchen, and stopped in surprise at finding it filled with people and books.

 

They stood awkwardly in the doorway, unnoticed, until Cordelia finally said, “What, we can't even get a polite hello? We've all become Neanderthals now?”

 

Buffy looked up quickly and, seeing the two of them, smiled—really smiled—for the first time. “Nah. Been there, done that.” Then she looked at Angel, standing awkwardly a little behind Cordelia, and her smile faded a little and she resumed her serious expression. “Hi, Angel.”

 

XXX

 

He looked normal enough, Dean thought. A little pale, maybe, but there was nothing to make him stand out as a vampire in a crowd. Long black coat, black pants, black shirt—nothing on but black—but that was common enough nowadays. Dean felt his doubt build—he was sure they had just been putting him on with the whole “vampire” thing.

 

His companion, however, Dean had no doubts about. That girl was definitely psychic. Exactly what about her gave it away was hard to explain, but Dean didn't doubt for a second that here, at last, was someone like his brother.

 

Of course, Dean believed in such things. It was doubtful that most people would see Cordelia for what she was.

 

She wasn't bad-looking, either. Really not bad-looking…

 

Better stay away from her, though—she and Sam could very well hit it off, after all.

 

“DEAN!”

 

Dean jumped, his musing shattered, and found that everyone in the room was watching him. “Huh?”

 

Willow assumed an exasperated expression that told Dean she'd been trying to get his attention. “I am trying to introduce you to our friends. Cordelia, Angel, this is Dean Winchester.”

 

Cordelia just gave a small wave, but Dean found himself shaking hands with Angel, and he also found himself instantly rethinking his first impression—that guy's hands were cold. Cold like death cold.

 

Creepy.

 

XXX

 

Sam's waking was exceptionally slow. He was used to waking suddenly from a nightmare, but this time he hadn't dreamed at all, and conscious thought came slowly and sluggishly, and when it finally arrived it was fuzzy and fragmented and confusing.

 

He opened his eyes—after a mini-battle—and his vision was blurry. He tried blinking repeatedly, and that helped enough that he was able to read the luminous digital clock next to the bed. 12:01 A.M.

 

He lay there for a while, wondering what had woken him up, before it occurred to him that there were faint voices coming from downstairs. After another couple of minutes, he decided what he was going to do about it—get up.

 

Good God, I have never been so tired… Sam thought distantly as he stood up, wavered for a moment, then balanced against the nightstand. The odd thing, though, was the lack of any other feeling. He felt so…so unreal. The headache that had become business as usual in the last few days was gone along with his nightmares, and he felt like he was entirely separate from his own body. And all of the sadness, the worry, the fear, all the things he had been carrying around inside for months…were gone.

 

He wasn't at all used to this sort of detachment.

 

But it was possible that he liked it. It was nice not to be unhappy for a change, even if what he was feeling right now couldn't exactly be labeled happy. Or…anything, really, for that matter.

 

When he stumbled into the kitchen a couple of minutes later—it had taken him that long just to get down the stairs, although he had no clue why—he found two extra people there—though it took him a head count and a lot of thought to come to that conclusion.

 

Dean noticed him first, being the big brother and all, and for some reason Sam couldn't figure out, Dean looked decidedly alarmed upon seeing him, and so did everyone else. “What're you doing here, Sam? You were out cold five minutes ago.”

 

“Jus'…woke up, `s all. `Lo, new people.”

 

“Uh…are you okay?” the only girl Sam didn't recognize asked.

 

After a long moment, Sam was able to drag up a name. “Cordelia. Nice t' meet you…”

 

“Um…yeah, you too.”

 

“Sam, what's up with you?” Dean asked, not moving from where he stood but looking ready to spring over the counter in the center of the room if necessary.

 

“Whaddya mean?” Sam asked, a little angrily. “`M fine.”

 

“No, you're not. You're slurring, you can barely stand up, you're taking forever to form complete sentences…”

 

“`M not slurring…feel fine,” Sam interjected—and he did, it was true. But even in this state, he couldn't deny that maybe something was wrong…

 

The thought was gone before he pinned it down, and he was left to repeat stupidly, “`M fine…”

 

He registered vaguely that Dean looked doubtful, and he stubbornly repeated, “I am! Really. My headache's gone and I feel better'n I have in a long time. I'm jus' a lil' tired…and…things're a lil' fuzzy…but `m…`m good.”

 

XXX

 

Dean saw it coming the instant he set eyes on Sam, even if he didn't fully realize it. His little brother looked awful. Much worse than he'd looked when he went to bed. There was no color to his skin—he was paler even than Angel—except for the shadows under his eyes, so darkly purple that they were nearly black. He slurred his words like a drunkard. He kept listing to the side, as if he was ready to topple over, and Dean unconsciously shifted to a position that would enable him to reach Sam quickly, should he fall.

 

And he seemed so confused. Usually, Sam could easily remember names, faces, dates, times, and just about everything else, most of them things that nobody really needed to know in the first place. Now he had to think hard to remember the name of a chick he had been dying to meet. But he obviously wasn't lying when he said he felt fine—he really believed it. That was a matter for concern in itself, even without all the other things.

 

It must be admitted that it only dawned on Dean right then that his brother was seriously ill. It had been long, slow, in coming, but the signs had all been there since that dream that had sent them here in the first place. The headaches, the exhaustion, the paleness—Sam had been popping pills so often in the last few days that Dean had ceased noticing, and possibly Sam himself had, too.

 

But none of that mattered at the moment, because now it was obvious that Sam was sick. Really sick.

 

These were the words that ran through his head the entire time he questioned Sam, and he barely paid any attention to the answers. He was just waiting for the inevitable collapse, and when it came, he didn't bother going around the counter—he went over it, and caught his brother just before he hit the ground.

 

At his touch, Sam started screaming.

 

XXX

 

Sam wasn't aware of time passing. He didn't see the people gathering around him. He didn't hear Dean's shouts, or the worried queries of everyone else. He couldn't think of anything but the pain.

 

And there was enough of it to consume his entire mind. It was worse than anything he had ever felt before—beyond words, beyond any semblance of description. And it didn't end. Just went on, and on, and on. Unconsciousness wouldn't come. He prayed for it, but it eluded him.

 

Like peace.

 

XXX

 

“What is going on?” Xander asked, not assisting Dean to restrain Sam.

 

“I dunno! God damnit, Sam, stop it!”

 

But for once, Sam didn't heed his big brother. In fact, he didn't seem to be hearing any of them. It was all Dean and Xander could do to hold down his arms, and with Hiei and Kurama restraining his legs, all Sam could do was writhe frantically and scream, his voice growing slowly more hoarse as time passed.

 

And Dean was left to just pray that it ended soon.

 

XXX

 

Half an hour later, Sam's voice was gone, but the pain apparently wasn't. Sam kept thrashing and even if he couldn't yell anymore, he was able to make hoarse, strangled sounds that probably would have been screams.

 

Dean had given up trying to pull his brother out of it, and now he just concentrated on keeping his brother from hurting himself, and ignored the others, who were trying to figure out what to do—though not once did anyone bring up the idea of going to a doctor. Apparently all of them avoided hospitals whenever possible.

 

Sam went still so suddenly that at first no one realized what had happened. Then Dean and Xander realized that the other man was no longer fighting them, and let go, cautiously. Kurama and Hiei followed suit, and when Sam didn't so much as twitch, Dean leaned carefully over him.

 

The first thing he saw was that Sam's chest was rising and falling rhythmically—he was breathing normally. Dean touched his wrist and found a strong, steady pulse, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “He's fine.”

 

No one replied. When Dean turned to see why, he felt his heart skip a beat. They were all staring, wide-eyed and pale-faced, at Sam—well, except for Hiei, who was, as usual, completely expressionless, though his features seemed oddly tight, Angel, who also looked impassive, and Kurama, who looked sympathetic and over-the-top sad.

 

Sympathetic? Sad? But why?

 

With a feeling of dread he couldn't explain, Dean turned to look at his brother's face for the first time.

 

At first, he didn't see anything wrong. Sam's face was still pale, but not as deathly white as it had been, and he actually looked a little better than before. Then he saw that Sam's eyes were open—he wasn't unconscious after all.

 

Dean smiled. “Hey, there, bro…” He leaned further over to catch his brother's eye…and recoiled in horror.

 

Sam's eyes were open, but they didn't react at all as Dean blocked the brightness from the overhead light. In fact, Sam didn't so much as blink. He just kept staring in the same exact direction he had been before. There was no life in his face now.

 

And no recognition, either.

 

Dean's baby brother didn't know him.

 

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AN: Well, all I can say is, this is what happens with you try to write with the Berlin Wall between you and your muse: you go completely insane!!! I am a shell! I have no opinion anymore! I don't know if I should be singing a hallelujah chorus for the thing or whacking it frantically with a cannoli!

 

So, here comes the part where I need the help of you readers: I need you all to go to the corner and press that nice, inviting purple button, and be more honest with me than you've ever been before. Did it suck? Should I scrap it? Or was it good and should I write a song for it? I want honesty!!! Not flattery! Honesty! I mean, compliments are good, yeah, but only if they're what you really think!

 

So…share!!!

 

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“The world is made of light and dark. You can't have one without the other, `cause darkness is half of everything. Kinda makes you wonder…why we're scared of the dark.” -King Mickey, Kingdom Hearts II

 

“There's moments in your life that make you, that set the course for who you're gonna be. Sometimes, they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes…they're not.” -Whistler, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

 

“Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone, and more fragile than a rose.” -Turkish proverb

 

“With the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.” -Shakespeare

 

"I am sworn brother, sweet, to grim necessity, and he and I will keep a league till death." -William Shakespeare