Taking Root 20
Authors: Marina and Casey
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 17 (awww!), Tangerine 18 (afraid of the dark) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 28 (for your own good), Apple Pie 17 (neighbors), Blue Raspberry 21 (rehearsal) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Hot Fudge, Smoothie
Word Count: 3,311
Rating: R (mostly for Edward)
Summary: Dean and Chase try to stay sane while they wait for their opening. It’s not easy.
Notes: Have we mentioned yet that Edward is creepy? Because he is.
Finally, Dean roused himself, both mentally and physically. "I'm going to see what else is down here."
"Okay," said Chase wearily. He let go of Dean's hand and sank back against the wall.
Dean flicked on his penlight but hesitated a moment, watching his friend and trying to squash the resurgence of terror, before shining the weak beam around the basement. He decided to take it simple, and started at the wall to Chase's right and headed that direction, keeping his hand on the wall and the beam sweeping ahead of him. Another beam shone from somewhere over his shoulder, and he knew Chase was trying to keep an eye on him, the best he could.
After a minute, he came upon a set of old metal shelving but a quick scan revealed nothing. "Anything yet?" asked Chase.
"Not yet," he said, turning the corner and continuing down now parallel to Chase. Almost exactly opposite where the two boys had been sitting was a small pile of stuff. Dean knelt to go through it.
"What is that?"
"Not sure. Bunch of crap."
"Maybe there's something to pick the lock."
"Yeah, I'm looking," Dean said, rummaging a bit more before holding up a small but solid feeling piece of wood and shining his light on it. "This might work."
"What'd you find?"
"Sliver of wood."
"I dunno if that'll work, Dean," said his friend, his tone betraying much more doubt than his words.
"Me neither. Let me see what else I can find." He pawed around a little in the pile before standing up and continuing his movement around the basement.
Unfortunately, he found nothing else before he reached Chase again. "This is the best we've got."
Chase bit his lip. "I hope it works, then."
"Me too. Don't suppose you've got a pen. That would work too."
The other boy felt his pockets and came up with nothing. "The penlights are too big, huh?"
"Yeah, they'll never fit in the keyhole."
"Drat." He turned his face to the dark ceiling and shut his eyes. Their earlier planning-or more likely, the whole ordeal in general-seemed to have taken a lot out of him.
"You hanging in there?" Dean asked, not sure how else to phrase it.
"Guess so."
He nodded, sliding down at his side and going quiet.
"I feel like I should know where we are," Chase said then, surprising him. "We weren't in the car that long."
Dean glanced at him, clicking his light off. "Really?"
Chase nodded. "Depends on how long. You have your watch, right? How long do you think it was?"
"It was about six by the time we got down here and I checked it. What time did he grab us? Any idea?"
His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it. "Before five, I think. That's when we left the Poppe Shoppe at least."
"So an hour away tops," Dean said.
"So depending on traffic...there's a good chance we're somewhere I know."
He stared. "So if we could actually get out..."
"We could maybe find somewhere safe to hide, or a phone or something. I might know somewhere close we could go."
"Maybe. It would be worth a shot."
His friend nodded again and leaned back against the wall. "We should still try for the bracelet first, though, just in case."
"Back-up. Yeah, I agree." Dean began to say something else, but he heard the doorknob turn at the top of the stairs and held up a hand for silence. Chase glanced that way apprehensively as the door burst open. Dean looked away from the flood of light that stung his eyes.
"Now," Edward’s voice came, sounding very flat.
Dean stood carefully, terror fighting for dominance again. "I'll keep an eye out for our bags," he murmured to Chase.
Chase nodded, eyes wide with fear. "Be careful."
"Will do," he said, and stepped up the stairs.
Edward grabbed the collar of his shirt and propelled him towards the kitchen, even as he kicked the door shut, locking Chase back in the basement. Dean cringed at the contact, but let himself be dragged. Once in the kitchen, Edward blissfully let go and stepped back, appraising the teen.
He blinked against the bright lights and kept his gaze fixed on the floor until Edward grabbed his chin and forced it up. “What am I to do with you?”
He stayed silent, knowing his grandfather could read both his fear and determination.
“If only your father had just given you up years ago…”
“You never would have let Dad just give me up,” Dean said. “You want him dead.”
“Mm, true, and dead he’ll be once I get you well trained and Mr. Mitchell safely stashed.”
The teen swallowed hard but shook his head as best he could with it still in Edward’s grip. “I won’t let you. I will never stop trying to get away from you. You’ll bleed as much as the next person.”
His grandfather’s smile was wide and predatory. “As much as you, Dean? Or perhaps your friend down in the basement?”
"Just leave Chase out of this. It’s Dad and I you want,” he said, suddenly feeling tired.
“No, Chase is useful to me. There is a lot you wouldn’t do if I told you to without incentive, but there’s a lot you would do for him, isn’t there?”
Dean could only glare at him.
“Like this,” Edward said, letting go of his chin and fastening his hand tightly enough to bruise around Dean’s left wrist, pulling the hand up between them. Instinctively, Dean struggled to get his hand loose, tugging at it and forming his fingers into a fist. “Stop, or I’ll go down and get your friend and do it to him instead.”
The teen didn’t want to stop, knowing full well what Edward meant to do, but at the same time, he knew his grandfather well enough to know the man followed through on his threats. Through an extreme act of will, he forced himself to go still and, at a look from the older man, undo the fist as well.
Edward calmly grabbed his middle finger and snapped it. Dean bit on his lip hard in an attempt to stay quiet, although a whimper still escaped him as he squirmed, the pain shooting right up his arm to his head, making the world momentarily swoop around him. His grandfather maintained his grip on Dean’s wrist. “Tell me you love me,” he said in a low voice, eyes spiking with madness.
“Like hell!” Dean cried, panicked at the very idea that he might ever do such a thing. He lashed out with his foot, catching Edward hard in the shin.
Instantly, the man had grabbed his shirt collar tightly enough to choke him, and slammed him backwards hard into the wall. Dean gasped for breath as the world reeled around him, then cried out as Edward broke a second finger, legs going weak at the pain. Then Edward’s face was an inch from his, red faced in fury. “If you ever say that again, you will regret it for the rest of your life, boy. I am your grandfather and will receive your respect whether you like it or not. Next time, I will not be so understanding.”
Dean tugged at the arm holding his shirt with his good hand as he struggled to get air to his lungs.
“I have learned some interesting things since your mother left and I’m anxious to try them out. I won’t, though, if you don’t give me a reason, understand?” It took Dean a moment too long to realize he actually wanted an answer, and the older man shook him. “Understand?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
Edward let go and Dean sunk to the ground, sucking in the wonderful air, cradling his left arm to his chest. For a moment, his grandfather just watched him and then his boot arched in, catching Dean in the side hard enough to knock him over. Instinctively, he reached out to stop his fall and remembered too late it was the wrong hand. He yelped in pain, drawing it back to him and curling into the fetal position once he was down, not even caring he’d jarred his shoulder or that pain ricocheted out from his side. The only thing that did filter in was that he was staring at their backpacks, sitting untouched against the wall.
“How are you my grandson?” Edward asked in disgust. “You’re pathetic.” He reached down, grabbed Dean by the collar again and hauled him upright. “Stay up,” he ordered, and then smiled. “I guess that just means more work for me, hmm?”
Despite the pain, it still took another force of will for Dean to bite his tongue and just nod, knowing Edward wanted some sort of response.
“Can’t say as I figure that a wholly bad thing,” the man said, smile widening before he turned Dean around and shoved him back towards the basement. The teen let him without protest, hurrying down the stairs out of reach as soon as possible.
Dean was still only halfway down when he heard the wheezing that meant Chase was having another panic attack. He could faintly make out the other boy's hunched up form near the stairwell. It was as if Chase hadn't moved at all. He probably hadn't. Dean paused, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before pushing aside his grandfather for the moment and hastening down the stairs to Chase's side. "Chase?" he asked, flicking on his penlight as Edward slammed the door shut. "Where's your light?"
Chase pushed the other light in his direction without looking up or trying to speak.
Dean sunk down beside him. "I'm really not good at talking on command..."
"Sorry," Chase rasped. "You okay?"
"Fine," he said, lying through his teeth, hoping Chase was anxious enough he didn't feel Dean's shaking.
"What'd he...do?"
He shrugged. "Just being Edward. Threats, intimidation, wants me to promise I'll stay with him forever like he tried to do with my mom."
"Creeper," Chase managed, as if he were trying to make it sound like a joke. It came out too choked to have the effect, though.
"Creeper," Dean agreed, leaning against the wall and making sure his left hand was tucked out of sight.
"D'you see the backpacks?"
"Yeah, they're on the floor in the kitchen."
"Good." He clutched his knees and tried to take a deep breath.
"Shouldn't be too hard to grab them."
"Great."
He nodded. "It's around eight now. Maybe two more hours? I don't really know his schedule, obviously."
"Course not." Chase smiled faintly, then coughed.
"Better?"
"Little." He sucked in another breath. "Sorry. Wish I wasn't...like this...was getting better..."
"Forget it. My grandfather alone is enough to give anyone panic attacks, even if you hadn't been getting them already."
"S'not that." A pause. "S'kinda that, but...hate being alone...in the dark...can't get out."
"We'll get out of here, Chase, in two hours."
"I know." He did his best to calm down, but it seemed slow going. Dean patted him on the shoulder.
After a while, his breathing evened out again. "Okay," he said, still sounding a bit raspy, but much better.
"Still need me to talk?" Dean asked.
"It'd help. Distractions are good. Or I can, I guess." Chase lifted his head and rested his chin on his knees, staring at the opposite wall-or where it presumably was-with damp eyes.
"Well, either you get inane babble from me about my childhood or you can. Your choice," Dean said, as lightly as possible.
Chase chuckled faintly. "Inane babble's better than what I'm thinking."
He racked his brains for something to talk about, and came up with a topic so quickly that he surprised himself. "I'm much better at climbing apple trees than palm trees, so you know."
"Think everybody is," said Chase. "Where'd you climb apple trees?"
"We lived in the northeast for a year or two. They've got a lot of apple trees in Pennsylvania."
"Did you get to eat any of the apples?"
"Of course! That was the best part. They taste different right off the tree."
"How different?"
"I dunno. I'm sure it's all in my mind, but there's something really satisfying about it."
Chase shrugged. "Just because it's in your mind, it doesn't mean you're wrong or that it's bad."
He smiled faintly. "Very true."
"I've never liked people who say things like that, anyway." Chase bit his lip. "It's mostly just an excuse when they don't want to believe what you say."
Dean glanced at him, able to sense something underlying his words but not sure what it was. "Point. And they do taste different, just not sure why."
A hint of a smile formed at the edge of Chase's mouth. "I bet they're amazing."
"They are. At some point, I'll convince my dad to let me go visit my cousin and you and Care can come and I'll show you." He tried not to wish that ‘at some point’ could be ‘right that second’ instead. Wishful thinking would not get them out of the basement any faster, and Chase would probably only start panicking again.
"I'd like that," Chase said quietly.
Dean smiled faintly. "Sage would be happy to host us. She's been bugging me all year."
"Is that where she goes to school?"
"She's in Pittsburgh, so a bit of a drive but not bad."
Surprisingly, Chase outright smirked. "A bit of a drive from where? I dunno if you remember, but we're in California."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "I wasn't thinking driving from here. But from Pittsburgh to the apple orchards."
"Oh!" Chase nudged him. "Geez, your mind works a lot like Carrie's. I can't even follow where hers goes half the time."
He felt himself smile. "My bad."
"You probably can't help it any more than she can, no worries." A slight frown touched his lips, but it disappeared when Dean blinked, almost as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Probably not," he said, trying not to give it too much thought. "Just how my brain associates things."
"Right."
"How about you? Have you always lived in Madison?"
Chase nodded. "Laura and I were born here. My dad and uncle grew up here, too."
"That's pretty cool." He smiled slightly. "And you didn't climb palm trees."
"No, I didn't. Climbed a lot of playground furniture, though. We had a playset in our backyard at our old apartment, until we outgrew it. Then we went to Washington Park a lot after Laura was old enough to take me."
"Dad used to take me to playgrounds fairly often. That's cool. How old were you when you met Carrie?"
"Twelve."
"That's awesome."
Chase hesitated. "Yeah, it was."
Dean glanced at him, tempted to ask how, but he curbed it back, having talked to all of them enough to know not to, especially not Chase. He shrugged. "It is, at least that you have a best friend like her."
"Yeah. She gets things a lot of other people don't."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"Course it doesn't." He smiled a little. "Carrie's just that kind of person, I guess. There's a lot of things she likes that other people always said were stupid. I didn't think anyone but Laura could be like that."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, she definitely takes you for you and doesn't care."
"Yeah. I guess Kenz and Resh and Nic do, too, but I met Carrie first."
"Makes sense," he said, content to let Chase do most of the talking, since it meant he was better.
There was another pause. "There's this thing I do," Chase said then, very slowly, as if he wasn't sure whether to go on or not. "Ever since I was little, as long as I can remember, I...make up stories. I used to do it with my toys mostly but now I use anything and everything that I see or hear about or whatever."
Dean tilted his head as he thought about it. "That's really neat. And creative. Are they about anything specifically?"
Chase blinked in surprise, but seemed happy to elaborate. "They were about me and Laura, at first. I have this stuffed rabbit named Boo-boo that she gave me, and he was the king of a magical land we'd go to. There were a lot of animals there. Some of them could talk."
"So like fantasy adventure stuff?"
He nodded. "We had all kinds of adventures. When I met Carrie, I told her one to take her mind off stuff, and she liked it, so I started putting her in them, too. And...a lot of the time, it's what I do when I feel an attack coming on and no one's there. Try to make it into a story."
The idea really impressed Dean. It wasn’t something he would have considered without being told about it, but now that he knew, it did seem a very Chase thing to do, and pretty clever. "Does it work sometimes?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes it just happens too fast."
"That's a good idea, even if it doesn't always work."
Chase shrugged. "It's reflex. Like I said, I've always done it."
"Still," Dean said earnestly. "I wish I had some sort of thing like that when the nightmares get me." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying. He colored a bit, glad Chase couldn’t see. It had been years since the last time he had told anyone about his bad dreams.
"You have nightmares a lot?"
"Most nights," he admitted quietly.
"Cause of Edward?"
"Yeah."
"So what do you do?"
"When I was still small enough, I'd just go sleep with Dad. Now, I prefer him not to know, so I usually just read until I'm calm enough to try sleeping again. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't."
Chase turned his head so that he was looking at Dean, but kept it resting on his knees. "There's a lot of stuff you don't tell your dad about, huh."
"Yeah. I don't like to, but he's so sensitive about every little thing."
Chase nodded. "There's a lot of stuff I don't tell my dad, either."
"It's hard keeping it in sometimes, but still easier than telling him. I tell my cousin about a lot of it, just so I have someone, but she's got her own life."
"Same with me, only I tell Laura and Carrie. Not as much anymore, though."
"Why not as much now? If I can ask..."
He pursed his lips. "Laura's in college now. She's busy. And Carrie...I don't know. I think it bothers her sometimes. She'd never say so, though."
"Sage thinks I should see a psychologist, but that would involve telling Dad how messed up I am sometimes," Dean said with a wry smile, staring at his lap.
Chase nodded, looking troubled. "I get that."
Dean snuck a glance at him. "Yeah. He'll probably insist on it after this, though."
"They can't make you go if you don't want to," Chase said, a little too firmly.
"Technically, he probably could, since I am a minor, but you're right, he most likely wouldn't make me."
He nodded again and subsided. Dean did too, drawing his knees up and hugging them, careful to make sure Chase didn't get a look at his left hand. He glanced at his watch and figured they had at least an hour left before they could risk trying anything.
After a moment, Chase spoke again. "I did think of a story while you were gone. Want to hear it?"
That brought his head back up. "Yeah, I would."
"Okay." Chase straightened a little. "So. Once upon a time, there was a mystical land called the Realm of the Magical Rabbit..."
Story: Taking Root
Challenge: Coconut 17 (awww!), Tangerine 18 (afraid of the dark) [Marina]; Blueberry Yogurt 28 (for your own good), Apple Pie 17 (neighbors), Blue Raspberry 21 (rehearsal) [Casey]
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Chopped Nuts, Hot Fudge, Smoothie
Word Count: 3,311
Rating: R (mostly for Edward)
Summary: Dean and Chase try to stay sane while they wait for their opening. It’s not easy.
Notes: Have we mentioned yet that Edward is creepy? Because he is.
Finally, Dean roused himself, both mentally and physically. "I'm going to see what else is down here."
"Okay," said Chase wearily. He let go of Dean's hand and sank back against the wall.
Dean flicked on his penlight but hesitated a moment, watching his friend and trying to squash the resurgence of terror, before shining the weak beam around the basement. He decided to take it simple, and started at the wall to Chase's right and headed that direction, keeping his hand on the wall and the beam sweeping ahead of him. Another beam shone from somewhere over his shoulder, and he knew Chase was trying to keep an eye on him, the best he could.
After a minute, he came upon a set of old metal shelving but a quick scan revealed nothing. "Anything yet?" asked Chase.
"Not yet," he said, turning the corner and continuing down now parallel to Chase. Almost exactly opposite where the two boys had been sitting was a small pile of stuff. Dean knelt to go through it.
"What is that?"
"Not sure. Bunch of crap."
"Maybe there's something to pick the lock."
"Yeah, I'm looking," Dean said, rummaging a bit more before holding up a small but solid feeling piece of wood and shining his light on it. "This might work."
"What'd you find?"
"Sliver of wood."
"I dunno if that'll work, Dean," said his friend, his tone betraying much more doubt than his words.
"Me neither. Let me see what else I can find." He pawed around a little in the pile before standing up and continuing his movement around the basement.
Unfortunately, he found nothing else before he reached Chase again. "This is the best we've got."
Chase bit his lip. "I hope it works, then."
"Me too. Don't suppose you've got a pen. That would work too."
The other boy felt his pockets and came up with nothing. "The penlights are too big, huh?"
"Yeah, they'll never fit in the keyhole."
"Drat." He turned his face to the dark ceiling and shut his eyes. Their earlier planning-or more likely, the whole ordeal in general-seemed to have taken a lot out of him.
"You hanging in there?" Dean asked, not sure how else to phrase it.
"Guess so."
He nodded, sliding down at his side and going quiet.
"I feel like I should know where we are," Chase said then, surprising him. "We weren't in the car that long."
Dean glanced at him, clicking his light off. "Really?"
Chase nodded. "Depends on how long. You have your watch, right? How long do you think it was?"
"It was about six by the time we got down here and I checked it. What time did he grab us? Any idea?"
His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it. "Before five, I think. That's when we left the Poppe Shoppe at least."
"So an hour away tops," Dean said.
"So depending on traffic...there's a good chance we're somewhere I know."
He stared. "So if we could actually get out..."
"We could maybe find somewhere safe to hide, or a phone or something. I might know somewhere close we could go."
"Maybe. It would be worth a shot."
His friend nodded again and leaned back against the wall. "We should still try for the bracelet first, though, just in case."
"Back-up. Yeah, I agree." Dean began to say something else, but he heard the doorknob turn at the top of the stairs and held up a hand for silence. Chase glanced that way apprehensively as the door burst open. Dean looked away from the flood of light that stung his eyes.
"Now," Edward’s voice came, sounding very flat.
Dean stood carefully, terror fighting for dominance again. "I'll keep an eye out for our bags," he murmured to Chase.
Chase nodded, eyes wide with fear. "Be careful."
"Will do," he said, and stepped up the stairs.
Edward grabbed the collar of his shirt and propelled him towards the kitchen, even as he kicked the door shut, locking Chase back in the basement. Dean cringed at the contact, but let himself be dragged. Once in the kitchen, Edward blissfully let go and stepped back, appraising the teen.
He blinked against the bright lights and kept his gaze fixed on the floor until Edward grabbed his chin and forced it up. “What am I to do with you?”
He stayed silent, knowing his grandfather could read both his fear and determination.
“If only your father had just given you up years ago…”
“You never would have let Dad just give me up,” Dean said. “You want him dead.”
“Mm, true, and dead he’ll be once I get you well trained and Mr. Mitchell safely stashed.”
The teen swallowed hard but shook his head as best he could with it still in Edward’s grip. “I won’t let you. I will never stop trying to get away from you. You’ll bleed as much as the next person.”
His grandfather’s smile was wide and predatory. “As much as you, Dean? Or perhaps your friend down in the basement?”
"Just leave Chase out of this. It’s Dad and I you want,” he said, suddenly feeling tired.
“No, Chase is useful to me. There is a lot you wouldn’t do if I told you to without incentive, but there’s a lot you would do for him, isn’t there?”
Dean could only glare at him.
“Like this,” Edward said, letting go of his chin and fastening his hand tightly enough to bruise around Dean’s left wrist, pulling the hand up between them. Instinctively, Dean struggled to get his hand loose, tugging at it and forming his fingers into a fist. “Stop, or I’ll go down and get your friend and do it to him instead.”
The teen didn’t want to stop, knowing full well what Edward meant to do, but at the same time, he knew his grandfather well enough to know the man followed through on his threats. Through an extreme act of will, he forced himself to go still and, at a look from the older man, undo the fist as well.
Edward calmly grabbed his middle finger and snapped it. Dean bit on his lip hard in an attempt to stay quiet, although a whimper still escaped him as he squirmed, the pain shooting right up his arm to his head, making the world momentarily swoop around him. His grandfather maintained his grip on Dean’s wrist. “Tell me you love me,” he said in a low voice, eyes spiking with madness.
“Like hell!” Dean cried, panicked at the very idea that he might ever do such a thing. He lashed out with his foot, catching Edward hard in the shin.
Instantly, the man had grabbed his shirt collar tightly enough to choke him, and slammed him backwards hard into the wall. Dean gasped for breath as the world reeled around him, then cried out as Edward broke a second finger, legs going weak at the pain. Then Edward’s face was an inch from his, red faced in fury. “If you ever say that again, you will regret it for the rest of your life, boy. I am your grandfather and will receive your respect whether you like it or not. Next time, I will not be so understanding.”
Dean tugged at the arm holding his shirt with his good hand as he struggled to get air to his lungs.
“I have learned some interesting things since your mother left and I’m anxious to try them out. I won’t, though, if you don’t give me a reason, understand?” It took Dean a moment too long to realize he actually wanted an answer, and the older man shook him. “Understand?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
Edward let go and Dean sunk to the ground, sucking in the wonderful air, cradling his left arm to his chest. For a moment, his grandfather just watched him and then his boot arched in, catching Dean in the side hard enough to knock him over. Instinctively, he reached out to stop his fall and remembered too late it was the wrong hand. He yelped in pain, drawing it back to him and curling into the fetal position once he was down, not even caring he’d jarred his shoulder or that pain ricocheted out from his side. The only thing that did filter in was that he was staring at their backpacks, sitting untouched against the wall.
“How are you my grandson?” Edward asked in disgust. “You’re pathetic.” He reached down, grabbed Dean by the collar again and hauled him upright. “Stay up,” he ordered, and then smiled. “I guess that just means more work for me, hmm?”
Despite the pain, it still took another force of will for Dean to bite his tongue and just nod, knowing Edward wanted some sort of response.
“Can’t say as I figure that a wholly bad thing,” the man said, smile widening before he turned Dean around and shoved him back towards the basement. The teen let him without protest, hurrying down the stairs out of reach as soon as possible.
Dean was still only halfway down when he heard the wheezing that meant Chase was having another panic attack. He could faintly make out the other boy's hunched up form near the stairwell. It was as if Chase hadn't moved at all. He probably hadn't. Dean paused, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before pushing aside his grandfather for the moment and hastening down the stairs to Chase's side. "Chase?" he asked, flicking on his penlight as Edward slammed the door shut. "Where's your light?"
Chase pushed the other light in his direction without looking up or trying to speak.
Dean sunk down beside him. "I'm really not good at talking on command..."
"Sorry," Chase rasped. "You okay?"
"Fine," he said, lying through his teeth, hoping Chase was anxious enough he didn't feel Dean's shaking.
"What'd he...do?"
He shrugged. "Just being Edward. Threats, intimidation, wants me to promise I'll stay with him forever like he tried to do with my mom."
"Creeper," Chase managed, as if he were trying to make it sound like a joke. It came out too choked to have the effect, though.
"Creeper," Dean agreed, leaning against the wall and making sure his left hand was tucked out of sight.
"D'you see the backpacks?"
"Yeah, they're on the floor in the kitchen."
"Good." He clutched his knees and tried to take a deep breath.
"Shouldn't be too hard to grab them."
"Great."
He nodded. "It's around eight now. Maybe two more hours? I don't really know his schedule, obviously."
"Course not." Chase smiled faintly, then coughed.
"Better?"
"Little." He sucked in another breath. "Sorry. Wish I wasn't...like this...was getting better..."
"Forget it. My grandfather alone is enough to give anyone panic attacks, even if you hadn't been getting them already."
"S'not that." A pause. "S'kinda that, but...hate being alone...in the dark...can't get out."
"We'll get out of here, Chase, in two hours."
"I know." He did his best to calm down, but it seemed slow going. Dean patted him on the shoulder.
After a while, his breathing evened out again. "Okay," he said, still sounding a bit raspy, but much better.
"Still need me to talk?" Dean asked.
"It'd help. Distractions are good. Or I can, I guess." Chase lifted his head and rested his chin on his knees, staring at the opposite wall-or where it presumably was-with damp eyes.
"Well, either you get inane babble from me about my childhood or you can. Your choice," Dean said, as lightly as possible.
Chase chuckled faintly. "Inane babble's better than what I'm thinking."
He racked his brains for something to talk about, and came up with a topic so quickly that he surprised himself. "I'm much better at climbing apple trees than palm trees, so you know."
"Think everybody is," said Chase. "Where'd you climb apple trees?"
"We lived in the northeast for a year or two. They've got a lot of apple trees in Pennsylvania."
"Did you get to eat any of the apples?"
"Of course! That was the best part. They taste different right off the tree."
"How different?"
"I dunno. I'm sure it's all in my mind, but there's something really satisfying about it."
Chase shrugged. "Just because it's in your mind, it doesn't mean you're wrong or that it's bad."
He smiled faintly. "Very true."
"I've never liked people who say things like that, anyway." Chase bit his lip. "It's mostly just an excuse when they don't want to believe what you say."
Dean glanced at him, able to sense something underlying his words but not sure what it was. "Point. And they do taste different, just not sure why."
A hint of a smile formed at the edge of Chase's mouth. "I bet they're amazing."
"They are. At some point, I'll convince my dad to let me go visit my cousin and you and Care can come and I'll show you." He tried not to wish that ‘at some point’ could be ‘right that second’ instead. Wishful thinking would not get them out of the basement any faster, and Chase would probably only start panicking again.
"I'd like that," Chase said quietly.
Dean smiled faintly. "Sage would be happy to host us. She's been bugging me all year."
"Is that where she goes to school?"
"She's in Pittsburgh, so a bit of a drive but not bad."
Surprisingly, Chase outright smirked. "A bit of a drive from where? I dunno if you remember, but we're in California."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "I wasn't thinking driving from here. But from Pittsburgh to the apple orchards."
"Oh!" Chase nudged him. "Geez, your mind works a lot like Carrie's. I can't even follow where hers goes half the time."
He felt himself smile. "My bad."
"You probably can't help it any more than she can, no worries." A slight frown touched his lips, but it disappeared when Dean blinked, almost as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Probably not," he said, trying not to give it too much thought. "Just how my brain associates things."
"Right."
"How about you? Have you always lived in Madison?"
Chase nodded. "Laura and I were born here. My dad and uncle grew up here, too."
"That's pretty cool." He smiled slightly. "And you didn't climb palm trees."
"No, I didn't. Climbed a lot of playground furniture, though. We had a playset in our backyard at our old apartment, until we outgrew it. Then we went to Washington Park a lot after Laura was old enough to take me."
"Dad used to take me to playgrounds fairly often. That's cool. How old were you when you met Carrie?"
"Twelve."
"That's awesome."
Chase hesitated. "Yeah, it was."
Dean glanced at him, tempted to ask how, but he curbed it back, having talked to all of them enough to know not to, especially not Chase. He shrugged. "It is, at least that you have a best friend like her."
"Yeah. She gets things a lot of other people don't."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"Course it doesn't." He smiled a little. "Carrie's just that kind of person, I guess. There's a lot of things she likes that other people always said were stupid. I didn't think anyone but Laura could be like that."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, she definitely takes you for you and doesn't care."
"Yeah. I guess Kenz and Resh and Nic do, too, but I met Carrie first."
"Makes sense," he said, content to let Chase do most of the talking, since it meant he was better.
There was another pause. "There's this thing I do," Chase said then, very slowly, as if he wasn't sure whether to go on or not. "Ever since I was little, as long as I can remember, I...make up stories. I used to do it with my toys mostly but now I use anything and everything that I see or hear about or whatever."
Dean tilted his head as he thought about it. "That's really neat. And creative. Are they about anything specifically?"
Chase blinked in surprise, but seemed happy to elaborate. "They were about me and Laura, at first. I have this stuffed rabbit named Boo-boo that she gave me, and he was the king of a magical land we'd go to. There were a lot of animals there. Some of them could talk."
"So like fantasy adventure stuff?"
He nodded. "We had all kinds of adventures. When I met Carrie, I told her one to take her mind off stuff, and she liked it, so I started putting her in them, too. And...a lot of the time, it's what I do when I feel an attack coming on and no one's there. Try to make it into a story."
The idea really impressed Dean. It wasn’t something he would have considered without being told about it, but now that he knew, it did seem a very Chase thing to do, and pretty clever. "Does it work sometimes?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes it just happens too fast."
"That's a good idea, even if it doesn't always work."
Chase shrugged. "It's reflex. Like I said, I've always done it."
"Still," Dean said earnestly. "I wish I had some sort of thing like that when the nightmares get me." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying. He colored a bit, glad Chase couldn’t see. It had been years since the last time he had told anyone about his bad dreams.
"You have nightmares a lot?"
"Most nights," he admitted quietly.
"Cause of Edward?"
"Yeah."
"So what do you do?"
"When I was still small enough, I'd just go sleep with Dad. Now, I prefer him not to know, so I usually just read until I'm calm enough to try sleeping again. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't."
Chase turned his head so that he was looking at Dean, but kept it resting on his knees. "There's a lot of stuff you don't tell your dad about, huh."
"Yeah. I don't like to, but he's so sensitive about every little thing."
Chase nodded. "There's a lot of stuff I don't tell my dad, either."
"It's hard keeping it in sometimes, but still easier than telling him. I tell my cousin about a lot of it, just so I have someone, but she's got her own life."
"Same with me, only I tell Laura and Carrie. Not as much anymore, though."
"Why not as much now? If I can ask..."
He pursed his lips. "Laura's in college now. She's busy. And Carrie...I don't know. I think it bothers her sometimes. She'd never say so, though."
"Sage thinks I should see a psychologist, but that would involve telling Dad how messed up I am sometimes," Dean said with a wry smile, staring at his lap.
Chase nodded, looking troubled. "I get that."
Dean snuck a glance at him. "Yeah. He'll probably insist on it after this, though."
"They can't make you go if you don't want to," Chase said, a little too firmly.
"Technically, he probably could, since I am a minor, but you're right, he most likely wouldn't make me."
He nodded again and subsided. Dean did too, drawing his knees up and hugging them, careful to make sure Chase didn't get a look at his left hand. He glanced at his watch and figured they had at least an hour left before they could risk trying anything.
After a moment, Chase spoke again. "I did think of a story while you were gone. Want to hear it?"
That brought his head back up. "Yeah, I would."
"Okay." Chase straightened a little. "So. Once upon a time, there was a mystical land called the Realm of the Magical Rabbit..."