"Hear my heartsbeat? Just focus on that." (Kimber Mac/Ten)
with multiversebleed
Kimber’s mental shields had shut down the moment the seance had connected. She’d never actually been to one before so couldn’t anticipate the results, the maelstrom of residual psychic energy remaining in this small suburban Chicago house was overwhelming. A mad vortex of pain, confusion, and fear was grasping and tearing at her mind; trying to use her as an anchor, but uprooting her instead.
She could just barely hear the Winchesters in the corner reading some Latin gibberish, and the Doctor right beside her as she backed away from the circle. She clutched her fists to her head, felt her knees buckle under the pressure of the 33 boys’ anguish. The Doctor caught her as she fell, clutching her to him; almost enfolding her in his strong, lanky frame. He eased her head to his chest, feeling the sweat soaking through the thick curls. Her mind was too engaged to reach so he spoke to her, tried to bring her other senses to bear.
“Hear my heartsbeat? Just focus on that.” He kissed the top of her head as she pressed herself closer listening to the quadruple thump, making it the center of her world. Grasping his coat sleeve and squeezing her eyes shut. "That’s it, eh?“ He heard her whimper and felt her slender frame begin to shiver.
“That’s it, eh?”
…but that wasn’t it. Not by a long chalk.
She was hanging onto his coat sleeve for dear life and she was shivering and whimpering and-
-she was better, but certainly not best.
“Oi!” he hissed, snapping his fingers at Dean, not wanting to interrupt the invocation or provocation or whatever it was they were dithering on about, “oi! Give me a- wossname- a ward. Or something, anything, her clairsentient empathy’s in a right tizz.”
Dean glanced up at Sam even as they were mid-recitation, they exchanged a nod, and Sam pulled a phone out of his pocket, thumbing open an audio file and playing it back- a looped recording of Dean’s half of the spell, made just in case.
“Yeah, bummer that her healing factor eats through anti-possession tattoos, every Achilles has her heel,” Dean let his recorded self take over, and clapped his Men of Letters book shut before fishing in his jacket pocket, slapping his jeans-
-he came up with a pendant, tossed it to The Doctor, who snagged it from the air. It dangled on its string for a moment, spinning in the light like Sarah Jane’s warpstar…
…it had Enochian engraved on it, and while The TARDIS couldn’t translate Enochian anymore than it could translate the glyphs of Krop Tor, The Doctor himself had spent enough time with these boys and Castiel over the years now that he’d picked up a few phonemes.
“’Bad Wolf,’” he murmured, because of course it said that. “Where’d you get this?”
“Dani Colton, I think,” Dean squinted.
“Yeah, of course of course,” The Doctor laughed softly before deftly dropping the pendant around Kimber’s neck.
“There you go, eh? Just try to breathe.”
As the pendant touched her skin, she could feel her shielding unlock, could start to construct basic barriers between her mind and the minds of the lost spirits trying to clutch at her. She felt the Doctor now, felt his mind trying to reach her, felt him stroking her hair, his arm holding her tight and steady. She was still listening to his heartsbeat, using it as a focal point to gather herself together…then the dam broke and she heaved great wracking sobs against his chest.
“So much pain…fear…they died in agony, alone with…evil. They’re scared and don’t know where they are, how to get out.”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, starting to understand. They stopped the incantation and talked between themselves for a moment, then walked over to the pair huddled on the floor. Dean kneeled next to them, knowing he wasn’t going to get a pleasant reception to what he had to say.
“Doc?” Dean’s eyes held steady against the ancient and very annoyed glare coming from the Time Lord. “This isn’t a possession. Gacy’s spirit isn’t the one in this house. It’s the kids. They don’t need exorcised, they need to be led on.” He sighed and looked at the dusty floor.
“Unfortunately they latched on to Kimber so they can’t or won’t listen to anyone else now. She’s gonna have to help ‘em over.”
Several curses in several languages, a few of them no longer spoken went through the Doctor’s head as he looked at the young hunter, asking him to put the sobbing young girl in his arms through something like that. At the same time he knew Dean was right, and that Kimber would and could handle what was to come.
He looked down at her, already calming against him, and stroked her cheek.
“Alright?” he asked, smiling at her. She nodded, having a basic grasp of what needed doing. The Doctor helped steady Kimber Mac to her feet and she turned to the Winchesters, taking a deep, cleansing breath.
“Right, then. What’ve I got ta do ta get these poor lads ‘ome?”
Dean nodded quietly, nervously, clapped his hands together, rubbed the palms together rapidly. “Well. I’m not exactly an authority on the whole thing- our favorite medium is-”
“In Heaven,” Sam murmured with a subtle wince.
Dean mirrored that wince. “And our favorite Reaper-”
“-got turned into a suicide bomb and committed sepukku,” Sam glanced down at his feet.
A quick moment of silence then transpired- Sam and Dean remembering and regretting all the lives they’d lost over the years. All the lives, all the women- as long ago as their mother, as recently as- well, let’s just say it’s a goddamned shame that not all the gorgeous redhead hackers ever known to The Winchesters had had fancy mutant healing powers.
Dean shook it off, and smiled tightly. “But I was The Horseman of Death for five minutes one time, so I’m the best we got. You gotta be out-of-body for this, talk to spirits on their level, can you astral project?”
Sam furrowed his brow. “Dad’s journal said that Reapers have the ability to alter perception- take a trustworthy form. Maybe you won’t be able to do that, but your x-gene lets you transmit emotion- do your best to exude confidence, authority, compassion, understanding.”
“They’ll ask you questions you can’t answer,” Dean added. “Like where they’re going next, and what’ll happen to them- they’re on edge, they might panic, but stay strong, don’t let ‘em drag you down, keep up those exudings. Their spirits are already magnetized to the afterlife, they can feel the pull, even as howling, crazed spirits- they’re resisting it to stay here, to try and go back to life somehow. When you convince them that’s not possible, convince them to come with you, that’s like 90% of the job- the rest is just moving into the light.”
Sam hesitated. “Just don’t- go into the light, okay? Don’t go with them. Just point them in the right direction.”
The Doctor stood behind Kim, physically supportive and- tolerating what these boys were saying, even though more than half of it still sounded like nonsense to him. But they were saying this could kill her. Could swallow up her- neuropsychic net- he still couldn’t call it a “soul” except in a metaphorical sense, the literal thing was just too much.
“I’m going with her,” he stated, brooking no argument. “I can step into her mind- see what she sees, feel what she feels- she’s not going to face this alone, not while I have half a beat left in even one of my hearts.”
“Doc,” Dean hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re- you’re actually dying right now, all this crap with regeneration and radiation, are you want to dance with The Devil in the pale moonlight?”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve stood at Death’s door,” The Doctor firmly clasped Kim’s hand, sparing Dean the requisite glare at using the diminutive hypocorism for “Doctor.” “Might see a few loved ones, yeah, that’s how this works? Maybe I’ll see Adric again. Still owe him an apology.”
“Okay,” Sam took a breath. “Okay. Whenever you two are ready. And be careful.”
“And whatever you do,” Dean gestured emphatically, “if they ask you a philosophical question, don’t quote Kansas at ‘em.”
“Yes,” The Doctor squinted at him, just dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, Dean, that’s very helpful.”
Kimber just stood there for a moment, trying to catch all the words flying around her and shove them into a sentence that made sense. Wasn’t working.
“A ydych yn wallgof? A ydych yn sylweddoli nad yw cynllun cyfan hyd yn oed cynllun?”
“Whoa, whoa whoa.” Dean said waiving off the flood of foreign language that could be questioning his parentage for all he knew. “At lease cuss me out in English if you’re gonna.”
Kimber spun wide eyed to face the Doctor, confusion with a slight edge of concern vibrated around her like an electric fence.
“Astral projection?! Leave me body?!” She stepped back to face the three men looking at her with varying degrees of worry. “D’ya know wha’ yer askin’? There are 33 boys ‘ere, some of em young, some of em don’ even realize they’re dead! They’re all scared an in pain an’ ya wan’ me ta send me spirit ou’ there ta Auntie em along?”
The Doctor walked over and took her shoulders.
“I said I’m going with you and I meant that. I’ll anchor us here, I’ll bolster your connection to this plane, and I’ll help you talk to them. Between your empathic modulations and my gob we’ll get them home.” He smirked at her. “Besides I’m great with kids, remember?”
Kimber dropped her head and sighed a chuckle.
“Fine.” Then straightened and turned to the boys, speaking more loudly. “Fine. Bu’ if I ge’ lost in there I’m ‘auntin’ bofh yer asses ferEVER!” Smiling at each of them, “I need ta prepare a bit. Gimme a mo.”
She went to the alcove where the seance started and put her backpack down. Piece by piece she took off the layers of clothes and folded them neatly until she was down to boxers and tank top. Padding back on bare feet, she sat criss cross, letting her arms drape over her legs.
“I’ve not done this very often so I need as much a me directly connected ta ‘ere as possible.” She looked back and up at the Doctor.
“Alrigh’ then, let’s ge’ on wifh it.”
Dean looked, for a moment there, like he was gonna get all kinds of bent out of shape over Kim’s protests that she should eject her essence under such arduous circumstances- once the Celtic had abated, he was fully prepared to defend himself in English as colorful as necessary. After all, he’d had to friggin’ die in order to get Death’s attention, and hadn’t that been a barrel of laughs. He was this close to saying something profoundly wiccaphobic-
-but as The Doctor steadied Kim, Sam held up a hand to Dean’s chest, and just gave him the tiniest shake of a head.
And Dean… relented. Reluctantly. After all, that had been one of his shorter deaths. At least compared to that Groundhog Day shit Sam had told him about.
When Kim turned to promise poltergeisty retribution if things turned the shape of The Doctor’s least favorite fruit, Sam nodded with an air of resignation. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Dean glanced at Sam, and then nodded. “I mean, you know, there’s a line. If you see Kevin, tell him ‘hey.’ But yeah, stick around a spell.”
The Doctor squinted at the boys then, as if this, too, was counterproductive, and then all three men grew quiet as Kim found her center.
Dean caught The Doctor staring, if only for a fraction of a moment, as Kim peeled off a few layers, and he elbowed Sam with a smirk. Sam frowned at Dean, but Dean shrugged and gestured to the two of them, Kim and The Doctor, as if to say, I knew there was something going on there, you owe me twenty bucks, but Sam continued to frown puritanically, now is not the time. Then acquiesced with a twinkle in his eye, the same glee he had when he was talking about “Deestiel”: But later, totally later.
The Doctor knelt down in front of Kim as she sat in a makeshift Lotus position, and placed his fingers on her temples, rather like he’d done with Reinette Poisson or Peter Street. Perhaps not like the katra points of a certain Vulcan’s mind-meld, but not unlike them, either.
The touch of his mind on hers was gentle and yet profound. Almost as sensual as his touch on her body when they were making love- well, perhaps as intimate, but in an entirely different context. When she was ready to let him in, he would step through, dwell between the hemispheres of her brain the way she often dwelt in the space between his hearts.
And then his voice would gently sound, in her mind’s ear: 'When you’re ready. Avanti.'
As the Doctor positioned himself physically and mentally, The Winchesters hurried to their bags of gear and tretrieved sawed-off shotguns loaded with rock salt. Just in case things went the shape of that aforeimplied fruit.
And when Kim was ready…
…everything would shift to the left.
They would be sitting in the room, next to themselves, all the colors were pitched darker, and smeared, and ethereal.
And it was a lot more crowded in there. More than thirty figures stood there around them, many of them bearing the marks of their murder- there was one with slashed wrists here, a curly-brown haired lad with bruises around his throat there-
They were just spitting with emotion, snarling and shouting, though their words were warped and elongated and incoherent- indeed, their forms seemed to flicker in and out, to lurch into scrawled, stretched shapes before snapping back into bipedal symmetry like elastic.
Well, The Doctor mumbled, looking momentarily like he was treading water and desperate for traction, out of his depth. 'Hello, everyone. Everyone, erm, hello.'
Kimber really hadn’t done the Astral Projection thing very often and each time it was a bit…jarring. She called on Brighid to help and guide her, centered and grounded herself as she sat there on the floor, feeling the energy rise up and into her, felt the Doctor waiting on the fringes of her consciousness. We are entering the realm of the Morrigan, we ask her blessing as we seek to settle these poor lost souls. Inviting him in, she allowed him to help her shift to the adjoining dimension.
Her Astral form, much like most humans was slightly different, wispy, vague in places, her great riot of red curls wafted in an unfelt wind around her. As soon as she’d fully entered this ‘other’ dimension her form almost collapsed in on itself. She reached for her head, with ephemeral hands, clawing, tearing, panicking at the battering waves of emotions and forms surrounding them, encroaching on them.
As the Doctor stood and tried to draw the focus toward himself, Kimber gasped, drawing deep shuddering breaths of non existent air into insubstantial lungs, pulling energy through the tenuous link her body maintained with reality, she felt the Doctor’s presence in her mind; strong, sure, familiar. She stood, taking her place beside the Time Lord, facing the raging, pained, souls around them and began to project, radiate an empathic field of calm…peace…reassurance, she tried to strengthen and extend it as far around them as she could.
The figures surrounding them began to coalesce. The emotional storm began to abate, the fear, rage, confusion were all still present, but lessened. The souls began to realize they weren’t alone and the ‘others’ who were here meant no harm.
She ‘spoke’ to the crowd of boys, trying to get their attention, to get what was left of their minds to focus, to think, to listen.
‘Please, all of you, gather around. Look at me, listen to what I’m saying. I know some of you are scared, or angry, or feeling lost and alone. We are here to help you, to show you how to leave here.’ A cacophony of words and wailing started up around them as those who understood her clambered to question, and those who could only feel were drawn to her presence.
She raised her hands and drew more energy through her link to strengthen the empathic field.
‘Be calm. We can help.’
‘WHERE ARE WE?! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?! I WANT TO GO HOME!!’ Sobbing, shouting, pressing closer to the two ‘others’.
‘Listen to me! You must understand! Please!’ Kimber felt the energies begin to settle and focus. ‘Try to think. Try to remember the last thing that happened to you before you became stuck here.’
‘John was showing me a movie.’ ‘Yeah, and he had a game, a trick that he wanted to show me.’
‘Then what?’
Murmurs and susserrations went through the ether in waves.
‘I…I couldn’t breathe. He was laughing and twisting something around my neck and I couldn’t breathe. Then it was…dark. It smelled wet’
‘You, all of you died. You are attached to this place because of what he did to you, and to others, but we can show you how to let go of this place and move on, to the peace and rest beyond here.’
To the side of Kimber and the Doctor a dark, black cloud started to roil and mass building and gaining solidity. The Doctor saw it out of the corner of his eye and the Cloister Bell in his mind began to clang.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE LYING WE’RE NOT DEAD!!!!!!! YOU’RE HERE TO KILL US!!!!!!!!’
Before Kimber could refocus her mental shielding, the cloud of raging souls darted toward them with the speed of thought.
Kimber’s mental shields had shut down the moment the seance had connected. She’d never actually been to one before so couldn’t anticipate the results, the maelstrom of residual psychic energy remaining in this small suburban Chicago house was overwhelming. A mad vortex of pain, confusion, and fear was grasping and tearing at her mind; trying to use her as an anchor, but uprooting her instead.
She could just barely hear the Winchesters in the corner reading some Latin gibberish, and the Doctor right beside her as she backed away from the circle. She clutched her fists to her head, felt her knees buckle under the pressure of the 33 boys’ anguish. The Doctor caught her as she fell, clutching her to him; almost enfolding her in his strong, lanky frame. He eased her head to his chest, feeling the sweat soaking through the thick curls. Her mind was too engaged to reach so he spoke to her, tried to bring her other senses to bear.
“Hear my heartsbeat? Just focus on that.” He kissed the top of her head as she pressed herself closer listening to the quadruple thump, making it the center of her world. Grasping his coat sleeve and squeezing her eyes shut. "That’s it, eh?“ He heard her whimper and felt her slender frame begin to shiver.
“That’s it, eh?”
…but that wasn’t it. Not by a long chalk.
She was hanging onto his coat sleeve for dear life and she was shivering and whimpering and-
-she was better, but certainly not best.
“Oi!” he hissed, snapping his fingers at Dean, not wanting to interrupt the invocation or provocation or whatever it was they were dithering on about, “oi! Give me a- wossname- a ward. Or something, anything, her clairsentient empathy’s in a right tizz.”
Dean glanced up at Sam even as they were mid-recitation, they exchanged a nod, and Sam pulled a phone out of his pocket, thumbing open an audio file and playing it back- a looped recording of Dean’s half of the spell, made just in case.
“Yeah, bummer that her healing factor eats through anti-possession tattoos, every Achilles has her heel,” Dean let his recorded self take over, and clapped his Men of Letters book shut before fishing in his jacket pocket, slapping his jeans-
-he came up with a pendant, tossed it to The Doctor, who snagged it from the air. It dangled on its string for a moment, spinning in the light like Sarah Jane’s warpstar…
…it had Enochian engraved on it, and while The TARDIS couldn’t translate Enochian anymore than it could translate the glyphs of Krop Tor, The Doctor himself had spent enough time with these boys and Castiel over the years now that he’d picked up a few phonemes.
“’Bad Wolf,’” he murmured, because of course it said that. “Where’d you get this?”
“Dani Colton, I think,” Dean squinted.
“Yeah, of course of course,” The Doctor laughed softly before deftly dropping the pendant around Kimber’s neck.
“There you go, eh? Just try to breathe.”
As the pendant touched her skin, she could feel her shielding unlock, could start to construct basic barriers between her mind and the minds of the lost spirits trying to clutch at her. She felt the Doctor now, felt his mind trying to reach her, felt him stroking her hair, his arm holding her tight and steady. She was still listening to his heartsbeat, using it as a focal point to gather herself together…then the dam broke and she heaved great wracking sobs against his chest.
“So much pain…fear…they died in agony, alone with…evil. They’re scared and don’t know where they are, how to get out.”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, starting to understand. They stopped the incantation and talked between themselves for a moment, then walked over to the pair huddled on the floor. Dean kneeled next to them, knowing he wasn’t going to get a pleasant reception to what he had to say.
“Doc?” Dean’s eyes held steady against the ancient and very annoyed glare coming from the Time Lord. “This isn’t a possession. Gacy’s spirit isn’t the one in this house. It’s the kids. They don’t need exorcised, they need to be led on.” He sighed and looked at the dusty floor.
“Unfortunately they latched on to Kimber so they can’t or won’t listen to anyone else now. She’s gonna have to help ‘em over.”
Several curses in several languages, a few of them no longer spoken went through the Doctor’s head as he looked at the young hunter, asking him to put the sobbing young girl in his arms through something like that. At the same time he knew Dean was right, and that Kimber would and could handle what was to come.
He looked down at her, already calming against him, and stroked her cheek.
“Alright?” he asked, smiling at her. She nodded, having a basic grasp of what needed doing. The Doctor helped steady Kimber Mac to her feet and she turned to the Winchesters, taking a deep, cleansing breath.
“Right, then. What’ve I got ta do ta get these poor lads ‘ome?”
Dean nodded quietly, nervously, clapped his hands together, rubbed the palms together rapidly. “Well. I’m not exactly an authority on the whole thing- our favorite medium is-”
“In Heaven,” Sam murmured with a subtle wince.
Dean mirrored that wince. “And our favorite Reaper-”
“-got turned into a suicide bomb and committed sepukku,” Sam glanced down at his feet.
A quick moment of silence then transpired- Sam and Dean remembering and regretting all the lives they’d lost over the years. All the lives, all the women- as long ago as their mother, as recently as- well, let’s just say it’s a goddamned shame that not all the gorgeous redhead hackers ever known to The Winchesters had had fancy mutant healing powers.
Dean shook it off, and smiled tightly. “But I was The Horseman of Death for five minutes one time, so I’m the best we got. You gotta be out-of-body for this, talk to spirits on their level, can you astral project?”
Sam furrowed his brow. “Dad’s journal said that Reapers have the ability to alter perception- take a trustworthy form. Maybe you won’t be able to do that, but your x-gene lets you transmit emotion- do your best to exude confidence, authority, compassion, understanding.”
“They’ll ask you questions you can’t answer,” Dean added. “Like where they’re going next, and what’ll happen to them- they’re on edge, they might panic, but stay strong, don’t let ‘em drag you down, keep up those exudings. Their spirits are already magnetized to the afterlife, they can feel the pull, even as howling, crazed spirits- they’re resisting it to stay here, to try and go back to life somehow. When you convince them that’s not possible, convince them to come with you, that’s like 90% of the job- the rest is just moving into the light.”
Sam hesitated. “Just don’t- go into the light, okay? Don’t go with them. Just point them in the right direction.”
The Doctor stood behind Kim, physically supportive and- tolerating what these boys were saying, even though more than half of it still sounded like nonsense to him. But they were saying this could kill her. Could swallow up her- neuropsychic net- he still couldn’t call it a “soul” except in a metaphorical sense, the literal thing was just too much.
“I’m going with her,” he stated, brooking no argument. “I can step into her mind- see what she sees, feel what she feels- she’s not going to face this alone, not while I have half a beat left in even one of my hearts.”
“Doc,” Dean hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re- you’re actually dying right now, all this crap with regeneration and radiation, are you want to dance with The Devil in the pale moonlight?”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve stood at Death’s door,” The Doctor firmly clasped Kim’s hand, sparing Dean the requisite glare at using the diminutive hypocorism for “Doctor.” “Might see a few loved ones, yeah, that’s how this works? Maybe I’ll see Adric again. Still owe him an apology.”
“Okay,” Sam took a breath. “Okay. Whenever you two are ready. And be careful.”
“And whatever you do,” Dean gestured emphatically, “if they ask you a philosophical question, don’t quote Kansas at ‘em.”
“Yes,” The Doctor squinted at him, just dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, Dean, that’s very helpful.”
Kimber just stood there for a moment, trying to catch all the words flying around her and shove them into a sentence that made sense. Wasn’t working.
“A ydych yn wallgof? A ydych yn sylweddoli nad yw cynllun cyfan hyd yn oed cynllun?”
“Whoa, whoa whoa.” Dean said waiving off the flood of foreign language that could be questioning his parentage for all he knew. “At lease cuss me out in English if you’re gonna.”
Kimber spun wide eyed to face the Doctor, confusion with a slight edge of concern vibrated around her like an electric fence.
“Astral projection?! Leave me body?!” She stepped back to face the three men looking at her with varying degrees of worry. “D’ya know wha’ yer askin’? There are 33 boys ‘ere, some of em young, some of em don’ even realize they’re dead! They’re all scared an in pain an’ ya wan’ me ta send me spirit ou’ there ta Auntie em along?”
The Doctor walked over and took her shoulders.
“I said I’m going with you and I meant that. I’ll anchor us here, I’ll bolster your connection to this plane, and I’ll help you talk to them. Between your empathic modulations and my gob we’ll get them home.” He smirked at her. “Besides I’m great with kids, remember?”
Kimber dropped her head and sighed a chuckle.
“Fine.” Then straightened and turned to the boys, speaking more loudly. “Fine. Bu’ if I ge’ lost in there I’m ‘auntin’ bofh yer asses ferEVER!” Smiling at each of them, “I need ta prepare a bit. Gimme a mo.”
She went to the alcove where the seance started and put her backpack down. Piece by piece she took off the layers of clothes and folded them neatly until she was down to boxers and tank top. Padding back on bare feet, she sat criss cross, letting her arms drape over her legs.
“I’ve not done this very often so I need as much a me directly connected ta ‘ere as possible.” She looked back and up at the Doctor.
“Alrigh’ then, let’s ge’ on wifh it.”
Dean looked, for a moment there, like he was gonna get all kinds of bent out of shape over Kim’s protests that she should eject her essence under such arduous circumstances- once the Celtic had abated, he was fully prepared to defend himself in English as colorful as necessary. After all, he’d had to friggin’ die in order to get Death’s attention, and hadn’t that been a barrel of laughs. He was this close to saying something profoundly wiccaphobic-
-but as The Doctor steadied Kim, Sam held up a hand to Dean’s chest, and just gave him the tiniest shake of a head.
And Dean… relented. Reluctantly. After all, that had been one of his shorter deaths. At least compared to that Groundhog Day shit Sam had told him about.
When Kim turned to promise poltergeisty retribution if things turned the shape of The Doctor’s least favorite fruit, Sam nodded with an air of resignation. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Dean glanced at Sam, and then nodded. “I mean, you know, there’s a line. If you see Kevin, tell him ‘hey.’ But yeah, stick around a spell.”
The Doctor squinted at the boys then, as if this, too, was counterproductive, and then all three men grew quiet as Kim found her center.
Dean caught The Doctor staring, if only for a fraction of a moment, as Kim peeled off a few layers, and he elbowed Sam with a smirk. Sam frowned at Dean, but Dean shrugged and gestured to the two of them, Kim and The Doctor, as if to say, I knew there was something going on there, you owe me twenty bucks, but Sam continued to frown puritanically, now is not the time. Then acquiesced with a twinkle in his eye, the same glee he had when he was talking about “Deestiel”: But later, totally later.
The Doctor knelt down in front of Kim as she sat in a makeshift Lotus position, and placed his fingers on her temples, rather like he’d done with Reinette Poisson or Peter Street. Perhaps not like the katra points of a certain Vulcan’s mind-meld, but not unlike them, either.
The touch of his mind on hers was gentle and yet profound. Almost as sensual as his touch on her body when they were making love- well, perhaps as intimate, but in an entirely different context. When she was ready to let him in, he would step through, dwell between the hemispheres of her brain the way she often dwelt in the space between his hearts.
And then his voice would gently sound, in her mind’s ear: 'When you’re ready. Avanti.'
As the Doctor positioned himself physically and mentally, The Winchesters hurried to their bags of gear and tretrieved sawed-off shotguns loaded with rock salt. Just in case things went the shape of that aforeimplied fruit.
And when Kim was ready…
…everything would shift to the left.
They would be sitting in the room, next to themselves, all the colors were pitched darker, and smeared, and ethereal.
And it was a lot more crowded in there. More than thirty figures stood there around them, many of them bearing the marks of their murder- there was one with slashed wrists here, a curly-brown haired lad with bruises around his throat there-
They were just spitting with emotion, snarling and shouting, though their words were warped and elongated and incoherent- indeed, their forms seemed to flicker in and out, to lurch into scrawled, stretched shapes before snapping back into bipedal symmetry like elastic.
Well, The Doctor mumbled, looking momentarily like he was treading water and desperate for traction, out of his depth. 'Hello, everyone. Everyone, erm, hello.'
Kimber really hadn’t done the Astral Projection thing very often and each time it was a bit…jarring. She called on Brighid to help and guide her, centered and grounded herself as she sat there on the floor, feeling the energy rise up and into her, felt the Doctor waiting on the fringes of her consciousness. We are entering the realm of the Morrigan, we ask her blessing as we seek to settle these poor lost souls. Inviting him in, she allowed him to help her shift to the adjoining dimension.
Her Astral form, much like most humans was slightly different, wispy, vague in places, her great riot of red curls wafted in an unfelt wind around her. As soon as she’d fully entered this ‘other’ dimension her form almost collapsed in on itself. She reached for her head, with ephemeral hands, clawing, tearing, panicking at the battering waves of emotions and forms surrounding them, encroaching on them.
As the Doctor stood and tried to draw the focus toward himself, Kimber gasped, drawing deep shuddering breaths of non existent air into insubstantial lungs, pulling energy through the tenuous link her body maintained with reality, she felt the Doctor’s presence in her mind; strong, sure, familiar. She stood, taking her place beside the Time Lord, facing the raging, pained, souls around them and began to project, radiate an empathic field of calm…peace…reassurance, she tried to strengthen and extend it as far around them as she could.
The figures surrounding them began to coalesce. The emotional storm began to abate, the fear, rage, confusion were all still present, but lessened. The souls began to realize they weren’t alone and the ‘others’ who were here meant no harm.
She ‘spoke’ to the crowd of boys, trying to get their attention, to get what was left of their minds to focus, to think, to listen.
‘Please, all of you, gather around. Look at me, listen to what I’m saying. I know some of you are scared, or angry, or feeling lost and alone. We are here to help you, to show you how to leave here.’ A cacophony of words and wailing started up around them as those who understood her clambered to question, and those who could only feel were drawn to her presence.
She raised her hands and drew more energy through her link to strengthen the empathic field.
‘Be calm. We can help.’
‘WHERE ARE WE?! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?! I WANT TO GO HOME!!’ Sobbing, shouting, pressing closer to the two ‘others’.
‘Listen to me! You must understand! Please!’ Kimber felt the energies begin to settle and focus. ‘Try to think. Try to remember the last thing that happened to you before you became stuck here.’
‘John was showing me a movie.’ ‘Yeah, and he had a game, a trick that he wanted to show me.’
‘Then what?’
Murmurs and susserrations went through the ether in waves.
‘I…I couldn’t breathe. He was laughing and twisting something around my neck and I couldn’t breathe. Then it was…dark. It smelled wet’
‘You, all of you died. You are attached to this place because of what he did to you, and to others, but we can show you how to let go of this place and move on, to the peace and rest beyond here.’
To the side of Kimber and the Doctor a dark, black cloud started to roil and mass building and gaining solidity. The Doctor saw it out of the corner of his eye and the Cloister Bell in his mind began to clang.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE LYING WE’RE NOT DEAD!!!!!!! YOU’RE HERE TO KILL US!!!!!!!!’
Before Kimber could refocus her mental shielding, the cloud of raging souls darted toward them with the speed of thought.