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Artwork courtesy of Valjean & |
By Valjean
ARCHIVE: No
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Artwork courtesy of Valjean & |
*****
“Dean! Dean!” Sam grabbed hold of his brother’s leather-clad shoulders and shook him hard. “Dean, wake up!”
It was the middle of the night, and they were only halfway to Arizona. Sam was taking his shift at driving while Dean grabbed some shuteye in the passenger seat. However, just past the California state line the sleeping X5 had started tossing his head from side to side in agitation and moaning with seeming pain.
A dream, Sam thought with a touch of humor. Big Bro was having a dream. However, when a couple of punches in the arm hadn’t roused his brother, the younger man thought it prudent to pull off the road. Now, he was shaking his companion as hard as he could and Dean still wasn’t opening his eyes. In fact, he seemed to be shivering ... trembling ... almost like a seizure ...
A seizure. Oh, God.
“Dean!” Sam shouted, his voice deeper and hoarse. “Dean, you’ve gotta wake up! You need your meds!”
To Sam’s vast relief, his big brother took a deep breath, eyelids fluttered, and suddenly confused hazel-green orbs with impossibly dilated pupils were staring up into his face.
“Your meds, Dean. Where do you keep ‘em?”
“Shaving kit,” Dean rasped, even as another tremor took hold of his body and Sam’s arms tightened around him, the two boys riding it out together. “Shit ...” the X5 said, wiping sweat from his stubbled upper lip with the back of his sleeve.
“You’ll be okay,” Sam said softly in his ear. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Is your kit in your backpack?”
Dean nodded weakly, and Sam dove over the seat of the Impala to grab hold of the black canvas bag. Seconds later he’d unzipped his brother’s battered leather shaving kit and had the bottle of tryptophan in his hands. “Here,” he said, pouring out the last half dozen tablets into his palm and shoving them between Dean’s teeth. Then he grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from the stash of pop they kept beneath the seat, snapped open the lid, and held it to his brother’s lips.
The young transgenic swallowed pills and soda gratefully, Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced them down. Then he nodded a faint “thank you” to Sam, leaned his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes. Now, all they could do was wait and hope the shaking stopped.
*****
The headache was always the worst part ... the migraine that followed a bad bout of seizures. Keeping his eyes closed against the glare of oncoming headlights, Dean massaged his temples and willed himself to not ralph all over the car.
“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, concern evident in his tone of voice as he glanced from the dark road to his brother and back to the road again. Once his tremors had started to recede, Dean had ordered the younger man to get them back on the highway. A car like the Impala parked on the berm in the middle of the night was bound to attract unwanted attention of the Smokey the Bear kind, and the last thing they needed right now was to have a run-in with the local law.
“I’ll be all right,” Dean said tiredly. A small smile. “Hell, I’m always all right.” But damn, he thought silently to himself. I haven’t had a wet dream like that since I was in junior high. It had been that real. His jeans were still damp in the crotch. And then the pain ...
“I thought I was gonna hafta call 911,” Sam said. “You were pretty bad. What brought that on anyway? A nightmare?”
Dean looked at his brother sharply. “Sometimes it just happens,” he said. “And for future reference, bro, never ever take me to a hospital or let medics get their hands on me. If someone like that finds out what I am they’ll call in the sheriff for sure, not to mention the military.” He thought a moment. “’Sides, we can’t afford to pay for a doctor.”
“Since when did not being able to pay ever stop you?” Sam asked blithely. “But are you really okay now?”
“Super,” Dean said, once again cradling his aching head in his hands while at the same time thinking to himself “just shoot me now.”
“Yeah, well, you look like shit. There’s a rest stop up ahead. How ‘bout we pull over and get some air? Maybe they’ll even have some edible food in those vending machines, sandwiches or something.
Bile rose in Dean’s throat at the thought of food, but he knew Sam was right. Low blood sugar wasn’t going to help things. He nodded his approval, and the younger man steered the black Impala onto a ramp leading to a run-down highway rest stop. Only two of the four parking lot lights were working, giving the scene a dark eerie quality. Just past one in the morning, the only other traveler taking advantage of the place was a silent semi tractor-trailer parked way over on the other side of the lot, its driver probably asleep in the cab for the duration.
Sam cut the growling engine of the car, and the two men climbed out, Dean moving a bit more stiffly than usual. The building up ahead boasted restrooms they could smell from a hundred feet away, as well as the inevitable line of chained-together vending machines out front. “I gotta pee,” Dean said, heading for the bathroom and praying the odor wouldn’t make him throw up.
“I’ll get us some food,” Sam said, watching his brother worriedly. “Don’t flush yourself down.”
“Very funny.”
Keeping his stomach under control with difficulty, Dean finished cleaning himself off, zipped his jeans, washed his hands, and came out of the restroom to meet Sam who’d emptied the Impala’s ash tray of its loose change in order to purchase crackers, candy, and a tuna salad sandwich of questionable age from the machines. He was about to berate the younger man for wasting his money when suddenly a movement on the edge of the wooded lot caught his eye. Vision zooming in automatically, he saw a pale face peering out at them from the trees.
“They didn’t have chicken salad,” Sam was saying when Dean poked him in the ribs.
“We got company.”
“Where?” Sam said, instantly alert. “Cops?”
“A girl,” Dean said, his eyes now scanning the tree line more thoroughly, finding it hard to believe she was alone. But his keen night sight detected no one else.
Now Sam saw her too. “Was she with the trucker?” he wondered. “What’s she doing out here?”
Dean Shrugged. “Hitchhiking maybe.” His eyes narrowed now as the girl stepped more into the light -- then widened with disbelief. He barely had time to catch hold of Sam as the younger man yelled “Jessica!”
“It can’t be,” Dean hissed, still holding onto Sam’s arm tightly. But his younger brother shook him off and was across the lot in half a dozen long strides to take the trembling blonde girl into his arms.
“Jess,” he sobbed as he hugged her. “God, I thought you were dead? What the hell are you doing way out here?”
“Good question,” Dean said, walking up to the reunited couple, his migraine all but forgotten as adrenaline surged in his veins. Something was terribly wrong about this ... Jessica was dead. He’d seen her burn. They both had ... But then there were such things as illusions. He’d seen his share of those too. Illusions and dreams ...
However, the warm flesh of Jessica’s hand as it grabbed hold of Dean’s forearm certainly didn’t feel like an illusion. “Thank God I found you guys,” she breathed. “The police called and told me your car had been seen in this area. I had a rental that broke down a ways back and that trucker over there gave me a ride to here. I was going to call AAA for help when I saw you pull in.”
As absurd as that scenario sounded, Dean saw that Sam was buying it. “Sam--” he cautioned.
“Come on,” Sam said tersely, pulling Jessica toward the Impala. “You’re exhausted. We’ll find a motel where we can all rest and figure out what the hell’s goin’ on.”
Dean opened his mouth to argue, but saw it would be useless -- not that he blamed Sam. Hell, if Max had died right in front of his eyes then suddenly been resurrected he’d probably be ecstatic too. All he could do right now was stay close to Sam and wait for the other shoe to drop, because he knew damn well that this Jessica -- be she ghost, banshee, demon, or whatever -- was going to cause trouble.
*****
They checked into a motel a few miles down the road -- one room, two beds. Sleep was the furthest thing from Dean’s mind, but once his head hit the pillow he discovered that his strength did, indeed, need replenishing after the bout of seizures. In spite of his best efforts to stay awake and watchful, he dozed off while gazing at the seemingly peaceful sight of Sam and Jessica lying on the adjacent bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.
The feel of a hot hand sliding inside the waistband of his jeans and cupping his crotch jolted the X5 awake in an instant. The grip of steel around Jessica’s wrist surprised the girl -- he could tell by the startled look on her face. “Don’t touch me,” Dean hissed in a low voice.
“Why?” Jessica whispered, at the same time sliding up his body to grind hips against his.
Dean glanced across the room to where Sam lay obliviously sleeping. He was about to call out to his brother when he looked up and saw the flash of inhuman flame deep in the black pupils of Jessica’s seemingly innocent brown eyes. A thrill of fear raced down the X5’s spine. He was in trouble -- bad trouble. And this time it wasn’t a dream.
“Fuck me,” Jessica cooed, her hand now undoing the button of his jeans.
“You’re my brother’s girl,” Dean tried, for lack of anything more coherent to say. He knew that if he called out ... awakened Sam ... something awful was going to happen -- like in they’d both end up ashes. This ... thing on top of him was powerful, and full of hate. His empathic sense was positively shrieking. The only other times in his life he’d felt this kind of Evil had been the night of his mother’s death, and the night the real Jessica had died in Sam’s apartment. But this time ... this time the Evil was sitting on top of him with its hand down his pants -- not the most advantageous of positions to be in.
“Fuck me,” Jessica said, her voice demanding. She (it) smiled. “You know you want to. And I know you’re better at it than him.” Spaghetti straps slid down smooth tan shoulders, dropping the flimsy cloth of her top and revealing a pair of perfect bare breasts. It occurred to Dean that he already knew how those nipples tasted, and with that carnal thought a tightening began in his loins. The X5 gritted his teeth at his body’s betrayal. However, the thing sitting on top of him felt his arousal and her lips parted in a smile. “Now, that’s a good boy,” she whispered sensuously, those fingers tightening as she used the other hand to unzip his fly. She pushed aside her skirt and positioned herself over him, flesh sliding on flesh. She wasn’t wearing any underwear and he could feel her moistness.
What can it hurt? a little voice whispered inside Dean’s mind. Sammy will never know. Of course the voice belonged to something else. Still ...
Rolling Jessica over onto her back, Dean positioned himself above her, pinning her to the bed with his big hands, helpless to resist, and wanting her so badly it hurt.
“Do it,” she pleaded, her bosom heaving like some heroine in a bad romance novel as her legs encircled his waist. “Do me.” And then the flame was back in her eyes and the fear was back in Dean’s heart. If he did this, he was going to die, and Sam too. However, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stop. And then suddenly, like a bolt of lightening from the sky, a vision of Max filled his mind. Dean Winchester might not have the guts to resist this Evil -- but X5-494 did.
Blurring, the X5 pulled Jessica over on top of himself, using her as a shield just as the ax blade descended.
It wasn’t a pretty sight -- the shiny steel burying itself almost six inches in the girl’s black. Blood spurted as Sam staggered away, gasping at what he’d just done, blue-green eyes as round as saucers, a man under a spell. “Jess!” he screamed. “Oh, God, Jess!”
But the creature that reared up from the bed as Dean scrambled aside wasn’t Jessica. It was something else ... something sent from Satan. Bathed in flames, the shape of Sam’s love it had assumed began to melt like the wax of a candle, those beautiful features distorting, flowing, bubbling with the heat of Hell fire as blonde hair burst into flame, the sonic scream that issued from that gaping misshapen mouth as its teeth and tongue curdled and charred enough to make both brothers cover their ears. It seemed an eternity before finally, in a last violent burst of fire, the thing that had tried to make brother destroy brother vanished. For just a brief moment, Sam’s ax hovered in mid air, held there by invisible forces. Then the weapon fell to the floor with a loud clang, leaving the two young men gasping for breath in the sulfurous air.
*****
“Thank you, Dad,” Dean said out loud as he reached back into the hinge casing of the Impala’s trunk and found a pill bottle. Pouring several tryptophan tablets into his shaking hand, he downed the meds. “When I was a kid Dad always kept a stash for emergencies, just in case I lost ‘em or ran out,” he explained, speaking to Sam even though his brother had his back to him. “Guess old habits die hard. I’ll need to buy some more in the next big town we hit, though.”
“You gonna be havin’ more trouble with those seizures now?” Sam asked mildly.
Dean shrugged. “They come in spurts,” he said honestly. “Sometimes I go months with no problem, then I get stressed and have a bad spell.” He glanced back down the road toward the motel they’d just vacated in such a hurry. Dawn was still half an hour away but they both knew they had to put some distance between themselves and ... it. “Recently,” he added dryly, “I’ve been stressed. But hopefully that’s all over with for now.”
“You think it was the same thing that killed Mom and Jess,” Sam asked, finally turning around.
“Yeah.”
“So, it knows where we are all the time?”
Dean shrugged, the thought disturbing.
“Do you think Dad’s dead?”
The X5 closed his eyes briefly, letting himself “feel.” When he opened them he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think he’s dead. But somethin’s not right either. He’d never have let this thing come after us if he could have stopped it.”
“It was trying to get me to kill you,” Sam said, his voice breaking for the first time. “I saw you with Jess like that and then the ax was in my hand and--” He looked up at his brother, realization dawning. “This is what you were dreaming about, isn’t it? Earlier tonight? It’s how you knew to make me kill her instead of you?”
Dean nodded.
“You get premonitions often, bro?”
Again a shrug. “I hope not,” Dean said, meaning that wholeheartedly. “But I’ve always had vivid dreams, and Dad always told me to pay attention to ‘em ... that they could be clues, or helpful.”
“Guess Dad was right,” Sam said. He looked back down the road again. “About a lot of things.”
“You ready to go?” Dean said, not seeing any point in lingering now that he’d found enough meds to see him through.
“Dean,” Sam said.
“Yeah.”
The younger man walked up to his brother and threw his arms around him, giving his sibling a huge hug. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” he whispered huskily. “And I’m really, really glad you’re all right.”
“Me too,” Dean said, feeling both emotional and embarrassed at the same time. The X5 rarely let anyone touch him -- other than an occasional female (of the noncombustible kind) -- and it was with tender awkwardness that he returned the embrace. “And it wasn’t your fault,” he said gruffly. “We both know that thing was playin’ with our minds. Now,” he added, giving his brother a final affectionate slap on the back and setting him away, hopefully ending the “chick flick” moment, “let’s go find Dad so we can get out of this nightmare once and for all.”
THE END
