There's No Such Thing As Monsters
Summary: Sam is definitely not schizophrenic. So why is everyone telling him that he is?
Chapter Nine
Missouri was a busy woman.
She had her customers, the ones who never actually came for the truth, who just wanted to be reassured about their numerous worries, the teenagers all awed and giggly, housewives with nothing better to do, the bereaved looking for closure, and the occasional sceptic who really just wanted to prove her wrong.
She had hunters in and out, the veterans who'd spent years hunting the things that dwelled just out of sight of civilians, and the fresh ones, suddenly scarred by evil and thrumming with revenge, like John Winchester when he first appeared on her doorstep with two small children in tow, all looking for the same thing: Answers.
She performed house cleaning’s, personal cleansing's, made little protection bags and sometimes people even asked if she could talk to their pets.
Missouri knew a lot of things. She knew a lot more than she should and a lot more than she sometimes wanted and she could never really explain how she knew some of the things she did.
The closest she could get to an example was vibrations. Ripples maybe. Every act or emotion resonated like a stone in a pond, like echoes skimming across distance and time. Everyone wore their own unsettled pool, their pain and joy, the rocks life had thrown at them, and the stronger the person's psychic abilities, the larger the stone, the stronger the vibrations.
Sam was like a bolder tossed in the ocean. The ripples were almost waves. They carried far and were impossible to ignore.
Trouble was brewing around that boy. He bore the same scars as the house he had lived in as a baby. Evil had touched him, in some way, and the trouble went beyond the mess he had found himself in now. Something big, far bigger than Missouri's abilities could comprehend, was coming and she would be wise to stay out of it.
It would probably be wise to stay out of his life altogether actually, but the boy needed help and Missouri wasn't about to let something like the future get in the way of the present.
Dean's face when he answered her knock at the door of his motel room was priceless. That boy wasn't often left speechless and Missouri took a moment to smile inwardly at the novelty of it, before she got down to business.
“Hello, Dean. I'm in room seven. You can make yourself useful by bringing my bags in.” She held up her room and car keys. Dean took them automatically, still staring at her in disbelief. “You can just pop them on the bed,” she prompted, when it seemed as though Dean was just going to stand there.
There was a beat of silence before the boy found his tongue.
“How're you...?”
Missouri raised an eyebrow. “Shoo,” she said, waving a hand towards her car. “And why don't you pick up some coffee while you're at it. The diner across the road is good and there's a waitress there who's dying to see you again. Veronica, isn't it? She thinks you're mysterious. Don't stay chatting too long, mind. I'll probably need you to fill in some blanks.”
Dean seemed to be regaining some of his composure. “You need me to fill in the blanks?” he muttered incredulously, but he fisted the keys and when Missouri stepped aside to let him pass, he went.
Missouri chuckled to herself before stepping into the room, closing the door behind her.
The girl sat on the bed not occupied by Sam. Missouri cast a disturbed glance at the youngest Winchester's sleeping form before heading over to the girl. She had her eyes shut, one hand rubbing her temple.
“Rosalie, isn't it?” Missouri asked kindly. She frowned in sympathy. “Sam giving you a headache, honey? I bet he's causing quite a ruckus, huh.”
Rosalie squinted up at her, confusion and pain making the air around them shiver. She didn't question Missouri's presence.
“I want him out,” she muttered, eyes dropping back to the floor. “I want him out. I've been... been trying to push but...”
Missouri lay a hand on the girl's arm, breathing in deep as she attempted to calm the vibrations. Oh but this child was lost, in her head as much as her life.
“Stop pushing,” she ordered gently. “You won't be able to get him out that way.”
Missouri nudged Rosalie until she was lying on the bed. “Rest. We'll have work to do when you wake.”
She swept a soothing touch over the girl's forehead. Obediently, Rosalie closed her eyes and a moment later her breathing evened out into sleep.
Missouri looked from her to the room's other occupant and sighed. This was going to be a tough one.
Then she went to open the door for Dean, who was fumbling coffees and keys on the other side.
XXX
Dean was pacing. This was definitely a conversation that required pacing. And maybe whiskey. Yeah, whiskey would be great.
Missouri shot him a warning look. “Dean Winchester, I don't see how getting drunk is going to help your brother.”
“Well what is?” Dean retorted in frustration. “Just... explain this to me again.”
Missouri heaved a put-upon sigh. “I don't think I can explain it any clearer than I already have.” She thought for a moment. “Okay, think of Rosalie like a black hole in space, but tuned to a specific frequency. Do you know what black holes do?”
Dean halted his pacing a glared. “Of course I know what black holes do. So... what the hell? She just... sucked Sam's soul out?”
“In a way,” Missouri said calmly, like that wasn't a huge fucking deal. “It's like a merging.”
“So she's not crazy? She's just psychic? What the hell kind of power is that?”
“I don't think it was the original purpose of her power,” Missouri mused. “Maybe she was supposed to absorb other people's powers, grow stronger through it. She is psychic. She's also schizophrenic. Mental illness can do... interesting things to abilities. Her original gift may have been... lost in translation.”
“Gift. Right.” Dean scoffed. “That 'gift' ties her to a demon and it's... war or army or whatever.”
He plunked down in the chair unoccupied by Missouri, hand reaching round to scruff the hairs at the back of his neck. “So, what? Sam's her split personality?”
“That's an interesting way to describe it bit I suppose it works,” Missouri conceded.
Dean frowned. “Okay, but what I don't get is, why was Sam seeing me and Mum in the ward? That doesn't make sense.” (Really, Dean? That's the thing that doesn't make sense? How about everything?)
Missouri looked thoughtful. “A mind is a tricky thing. I can't give you definite answers but I'd guess that... remember that I said it was a merging? Mix Sam in with a mind suffering from schizophrenia and maybe it's logical that he was seeing things that weren't there.”
Dean blinked. “You're saying that Sam's schizophrenic?” he asked defensively.
Missouri gave him a glare that literally made him wilt. How did she do that? “Boy, are you deliberately being stupid? Your brother is not schizophrenic. Rosalie is schizophrenic. I'm saying that there may have been some leakage from one mind to the other. So take that foul look off of your face, I'm not accusing Sam of anyth-”
“Whoa, okay, I get it.” Dean flapped an arm in a vague sort of gesture at the two beds. “So how do we...?”
Missouri looked at the two sleeping figures pensively. “Now that is going to be the tricky part.”
“Can't Rosalie just... I dunno, shove Sam back in his own body?” Dean asked hopefully (but without much actual hope 'cause seriously, as if it would be that simple).
Missouri shook her head. (Big surprise there. Not.) “No, that won't work. Remember the black hole? Everything's working to suck him in. She needs to create a shield, so to speak, or a dam. Something to keep the energy from drawing things in.”
“A dam,” Dean repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so-”
Rosalie screamed.
Dean stood up so fast that his chair toppled over. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud that was drowned out by Rosalie's cries.
“Sonuvabitch!” he swore as he covered the space between the table and Rosalie's bed in three hurried steps.
The girl had her eyes clenched shut, hands tearing at her hair as she writhed and arched on the bed.
“Rosalie! Hey, calm down!” He tried to pull her hands away but she twisted, clenching tight, her wail unearthly and raising the hair on the back of Dean's neck. “Jesus, hey, stop screaming!”
Missouri unceremoniously shoved her way in, knocking Dean aside hard enough to make him stumble. He regained his balance in time to see Missouri clasp Rosalie's face in her hands and just like that, Rosalie fell silent, blinking up at Missouri and gasping for breath. It reminded him of Sam's nightmares after Jess, jolted awake by his touch.
“Damn it,” Dean said, kind of breathlessly, into the silence. “We'll be lucky if the manager doesn't kick us out.”
“Don't you worry about the manager,” Missouri said distractedly, hands still on Rosalie's face. She was frowning. “I'll sort him out.”
To Rosalie she said, “Go back to sleep, honey. It's okay now.”
Rosalie blinked again in confusion, but rolled over and closed her eyes nonetheless.
“Jesus,” Dean breathed, running both hands over his face, then up through his hair as Missouri joined him by the table. “As if we don't have enough to deal with without her having freak outs.”
Missouri was staring at Rosalie though, her face creased with a deep concern. “I was afraid this would happen.”
Dean felt his stomach drop. “What? What'd you do?”
“Sam was... struggling. I managed to calm him down but...” She shook her head. “The human body isn't designed to hold two souls at once. The longer they're together...”
“What?” Dean demanded, taking an unconscious step towards Sam. “The longer they're together what?”
“We need to separate them.”
“Well, duh,” Dean exclaimed, exasperated. “Missouri, what is it?”
“Rosalie's mind won't handle it much longer,” Missouri said bluntly. “No human's mind could. There's only room for one person in there and, subconsciously, they both know it. They've started fighting.”
“Fighting?” Dean raised his eyebrows in confusion, a vaguely hysterical panic trying to build up in his chest. “How can they fight? They're not, like, corporeal.”
“Dean Winchester,” Missouri said sharply, her eyes glittering as she turned to Dean. “If you're trying to say that the soul has no strength, you're sorely mistaken and I would have to assume that I've given you more credit than you deserve.”
“Whoa.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I'm just... it's a lot to wrap my head around, okay?”
Missouri visibly composed herself. “No, I'm sorry.” She raised a hand to rub at her temple. “It's Rosalie. The pull is... stronger than I expected. When this is over, I'm teaching Sam how to shield from this sort of thing.”
The psychic sat down heavily, waving off Dean's attempt at assistance. “Oh, I'm fine. Just stretched. Don't worry about me.” She seemed to refocus. “Now, more importantly; Sam and Rosalie. They can't exist together. They'll both push at each other until one of them wins.”
Dean didn't want to ask but... “What happens to whoever loses?”
Missouri rubbed her eyes wearily. “That black hole I was talking about? Right now it can be reversed, but if we don't do it soon, the winner gets control of the body and the loser's just... gone.”
XXX
Missouri and Rosalie were sitting on the floor facing each other, eyes closed and legs crossed. Missouri held Rosalie's hands in her own. Guiding, she had said.
Dean wished Missouri would guide a little faster. The two of them had been at it for hours now and it didn't look to Dean like they were getting anywhere.
He should probably find Rosalie some new clothes, he mused. The girl was still clad in hospital scrubs. And some fresh bandages for her wrists wouldn't go amiss.
Later though. Preferably after Sam was back in his own body. How long could it take to build a dam anyway?
Dean almost spilled the cup of water he was carefully dribbling into Sam's mouth when Rosalie suddenly bent over, tearing her hands from Missouri with a bitten off shriek.
“Jesus,” he cursed, setting the cup quickly on the night-stand, ignoring the water that sloshed over his hand. “What now? Is it working?”
“They're fighting again,” Missouri said, concern worming through the cracks of her calm. She reached a hand towards Rosalie but jerked back as she made contact, hissing.
“What?” Dean demanded but immediately forgot that he cared when Sam's body jerked on the bed, as though it had been shot through with electricity.
“Sam!” Dean bent back over him, searching desperately for some sign of awareness. “Sam, c'mon. Wake up, damn it!”
Rosalie curled into herself, whimpering.
“You won't find Sam in there,” Missouri said over her shoulder, sounding grim as she eyed the girl on the floor. “Not yet.”
XXX
To Be Continued...
Chapter Ten