Even Monsters have a Social 8/?

[emebalia]

A/N To prevent confusion, there has been a Jessica Arndt in John's life. So when the name Jessica comes up, we're talking about her.

Chapter 8

Dean Winchester took in the man in front of him, gaze flickering over to Bear, clearly seeing the dog for more of a threat than Harold.

Harold couldn't blame him for that, it was the reason he'd taken Bear with him in the first place. Holding his breath he waited for Dean to finish his inspection and couldn't help but wonder what was going through the other man's mind.


The Winchesters had no obligations to help him, for all they knew this could be a trap, so Harold waited for Dean's next move. He hoped Bear would be quick enough to stop Dean if he tried to attack Harold, though.
"Let me guess." Dean finally said in frustrated amusement. "You're the brains."

"You could put it that way, Mr. Winchester." Harold loosened his grip on the leash and next to him Bear slightly relaxed as well. The dog stayed on alert but he wasn't growling at Mr. Winchester like he did when he didn't like somebody. Which was a good sign?

"How can anybody confuse you with Sam?" Dean asked waving his hand in an up and down motion at Harold. "No offense, dude, but this is like mistaking a poodle for a wolf."

"Ms. Martin never saw me, Mr. Winchester."

"How do you even know my name? Harold?" He emphasized the last part, the only bit of information he had on the man in front of him. Not that Harold had any intention to change that.

"I know a lot about you and your brother, Mr. Winchester." Harold shifted from one foot to the other and back to his good leg.

"You know nothing about me." It came out almost on reflex with a cocky grin and the hint to drop it.

"The only matter of concern to me right now is the safety of my partner." Harold did drop it, there was no point on agitating Dean. He needed his cooperation, at least for now.

"Hey, Harold." Came Sam Winchester's voice over the ear piece. "You still there?"

"I'm with your brother at the phone now." Harold informed him and checked his own phone.

Four minutes and Mr. Reese's signal was still moving. Harold made sure that Sam was still on track, in fact he was closing in to the signal. They could only hope it led them to Ms. Martin and Mr. Reese. How often had he thought they'd found their perpetrator only to find the phone in a random car?

"They should reach their destination soon, Mr. Winchester." If she actually stopped to give them the call. John could be dead by now but Harold forced himself to not think in that direction.

"You know, this Mister Winchester crap is really confusing." Dean spoke up. "And annoying. I'm Dean, he's Sam and you're Harold. Can we just go with that? Please?"

"Of course, Mr. Winchester."

Dean groaned at that. "Are you related to Cas or something?"

"I don't know anybody with that name." Harold answered but made a mental note to look into this later. After they'd rescued Mr. Reese and hopefully hadn't been shot by the Winchester brothers.

"You doing this on purpose?" Dean rolled his eyes but sounded more amused than annoyed and Sam only chuckled softly to that. Harold decided to ignore it for now. Instead he checked his phone again.

"Mr. Winch... Sam." He caught himself at the last moment but Dean just shook his head. "They've stopped."

Harold gave Sam directions through what looked like an industrial area when the phone next to Dean started ringing.

"I see them." Sam informed him. "Keep her talking until I get to her."

"Mr. Winchester." Harold raised his voice over the ringing of the phone. "There is no need to kill Ms. Martin." He felt the need to emphasize that part.

"Just don't let her touch you, Sam." Dean had his own advice for his brother but at Harold's confused look he just shrugged and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

He tilted the receiver, a clear invitation for Harold to listen in. Wary Harold stepped closer, suddenly very aware of the taller man's heavy built.

"Dean? Good to hear you." Ms. Martin's voice carried over to him. "Is Harold there, too? You didn't try any tricks on my, did you?"

"I'm here, Ms. Martin." Harold answered. "I want to speak to Mr. Reese. Now."

"You really don't know what you're dealing with." Harold wasn't sure if she sounded disappointed or amused. "I told you he's having a little nightmare."

"He won't come out of that any time soon." To Harold's surprise Dean spoke up.

"At least somebody is doing their homework." Rachel muttered. "Tell me, Dean, why are you wasting your time with amateurs?"

"Hell if I know." Harold felt Dean's gaze on him. "However, we want our man back."

"And you'll get him. I'm keeping my word. Like I told Harold, I'm trying." Her tone changed to something wistful. "I only kill what I absolutely need. You seemed like a good guy, Dean, back at the hospital. Can't you just look in the other direction? Just this one time?"

"Sorry, not as long as you're killing people." Dean actually sounded sorry, even moved by her little speech. Harold glanced up at him, not sure what to make out of the man.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "I'm leaving the line open so you can hear him breathing. You'll find J..."

The line went dead.

John was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was back at the airport.

In his dream he was kind of a spectator, just a silent presence among people hurrying from here to there. But there were two people, a small area of calmness in all that busyness, who drew his attention to them. He saw himself and Jessica and he knew he had to get to them before he could screw this up. Again.

But the second he set a foot in their direction, somebody bumped into him. And a woman crossed his pass, forcing him to make a side-step. Right into another person. Suddenly the airport was full with people, a loud, moving crowed and he was drowning in the middle of it.

He never lost focus on the two persons in the middle, though, where the light was softer and they stood alone in their own little world.
John couldn't hear what Jessica was saying, too many voices, too many noises around him, but he knew what she said. Knew every word.

So he knew exactly when she said the key words. When she asked him, begged him, to ask her to wait for him.

"Wait for me!" John screamed but his voice didn't carry over to her. And the person in front of her, the person who should have said those words, that dumb idiot, kept silent.

John wasn't close enough to witness her searching, hoping look at him before she turned and left but he felt the heartbreaking intensity of it anyway.

"Wait for me." He and the image of his old, selfish self whispered as one.

Then the crowed swept him away and John had to fight to keep his footing.

The claws of the nightmare still buried deep in his mind John crawled back to consciousness. Here, tangled in the last threads of the dream but close enough to the surface to know it was a dream, John wondered why this was the only real nightmare that ever haunted him. The things he'd seen, the things he'd done. But it was always this moment. The moment that could have changed everything. That did change everything.

John opened his eyes but his mind was still too foggy to process what he saw. His mouth was filled with the bitter tang of chemicals - drugs? -, his body lay lead-heavy in the seat and John was close to just drifting off to sleep again.

There was somebody next to him, her voice an up and down, like waves, lulling him back to sleep. He couldn't place the voice - did he know her? - and he wasn't sure whose car he was sitting in or where he was and he probably should worry about that but his eyelids were too heavy and the seat too comfortable and with a sigh John settled back.

It wasn't a peaceful sleep waiting for him. As soon as he started to drift off again, the cold claws of the nightmare embraced him again. He fought against them but they just dug deeper into him, dragging him back to the land of nightmares.

Suddenly a scream pierced through his mind and for a moment he wasn't sure if it was part of the dream or real.

The second scream was real, full of pain and agony, and it lunched John right back into the real world.

He was in a car, a woman - Rachel? - in the driver's seat and a man with a bloody knife in the open door next to her.

John felt like he was under water, his movements slow, the noises dull, and he wasn't sure how he got out of the car and around to the other side but he grabbed the man at the shoulder right when he raised his arm to stab the woman again.

They went down in a heap of limps, the knife cluttering to the ground.

"John, stop." The man said while he easily blocked John's sluggish attempts to hit him. He knew his face but couldn't place it. But it came with a feeling of enemy.

They struggled and rolled over the ground and it was only a matter of seconds until the man would overpower him.

All of a sudden the other man's focus wasn't on him anymore and he didn't struggle to get away from John but from something to their right.

He probably should worry about that but his mind was still too dizzy to do more than to see an opening and react on it. His fist connected with the other man's temple and he went still under him.

"Thanks, John."

He looked up to find Rachel standing next to him. She swayed, close to doubling over, and he would stand up to help her if he only could get his own legs working.

With one hand she was clutching her chest. There was blood, a lot of it. Not good.

Where was his phone? He needed to call an ambulance. He needed to …

A second later he was still kneeling on the ground, the unconscious man - Sam Winchester, that was his name - next to him and tried to figure out what to do next.

A hand landed on his shoulder, nearly tipping him over. Rachel used him as a crutch to bend down to Sam. Almost gently she stroke his cheek, leaving a bloody trail.

"Tell Dean that I keep my promises." She spoke but the words were just noises to John. "I could have killed you both. Maybe … maybe … this is enough." She coughed and for a second she didn't look like Rachel anymore, grayish skin and hollow eyes and a grotesque attempt of a human face.

John flinched backwards but the hand on his shoulder held him in place.

"I'm sorry." She said and then her hand was on his face.

When John opened his eyes again, she was gone.

There was a car with the driver's door open and the seat was covered in blood. John blinked at the image and tried to make sense out of it.

He couldn't think. The world was spinning and his head was full of flashing images. Was Jessica here somewhere?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving and turned his head just in time to see a man on the ground with his arm stretched out for a knife, also covered in blood.

John didn't know what was going on but when the man reached the knife, he went on autopilot.

Retreat. Regroup. Contact Harold.

John ran.

Chapter 9
Masterpost