The Man in the Dark Chapter 4/10
So...yeah...about this chapter. It was a bitch to write. It was a bitch to plot. It was just basically a bitch. The next chapter should be back on track. I don't know what happened to this one. This is the scene I had in my mind when I decided to write a story like this...so I don't know why it fell through so much. Anyway...on with the show.
Title: The Man in the Dark
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Small ones for Faith and Skin and possibly Dead in the Water.
Summary: It took a lot to shock his brother into a state of submission.
Chapter Four
Dean was sitting in a chair two sizes too small for him. Cecily hadn’t given any of them time to react before she’d taken Dean’s hand and had escorted him into the room, seating him on one side of a table while she walked around to the other and resumed the crayon drawing she’d been working on. Sam guessed his brother had been too startled to really object to the whole thing. It took a lot to shock his brother into a state of submission. Sam doubted that having a little girl say his name was enough to do the trick, so he could only guess that somehow, in some little way, Dean recognized the blonde girl with pigtails. Sam didn’t think anything good could come of this.
Carol had gone in immediately after that, but still had yet to say anything. She was standing behind her daughter, looking at Dean like he was a long lost cousin they’d been told died years and years ago. Sam unknowingly mirrored her stance by standing behind his brother, a similar look on his face as he watched Cecily as she colored. Sam was aware that there was an awkward silence in the room, one that probably should have been filled with questions, worry, accusations, maybe even an explanation or two. But no one seemed to want to say a thing. Cecily was the only one who was acting like nothing strange was going on, like she hadn’t just treated a complete stranger as if she’d known him her entire life, as if she’d expected him to show up, as if she hadn’t just found someone she’d been playing a lifelong game of hide and seek with.
“Your name is Dean?” Carol’s inquisitive voice finally broke the silence and Sam and Dean both looked up at her. Dean nodded slightly in response. “Dean Winchester?” she asked again, her eyes flickering.
Mouth half open, Dean struggled for a response. Sam winced when the only one his brother could come up with was, “Depends on what day of the week it is.” But he’d said it without much emotion and his eyes were back on Cecily. Sam realized his brother was barely holding it together. He needed to take action.
“How did you know that?” he asked, taking a step protectively towards his brother. He half expected thirty FBI agents with guns blazing to jump out from behind the curtains and come at them. Dean Winchester was a wanted man. Dean Winchester was also a dead man with a tombstone over a coffin that held a creature with the same face. Dean Winchester wasn’t a name they liked to throw around to complete strangers.
Carol shook her head and gave a smile that looked as if she didn’t know what else to do. Smile or scream. She looked back down at Dean. “I thought…” she paused. “I thought Dean was her imaginary friend,” she said at last. Sam frowned. What the hell was going on? “But, here you are, sitting in this room,” Carol gave a gruff laugh. “She’s been talking about you for months.”
“What?” Sam blurted before he could stop himself. He exchanged a look with his brother. “What has she been saying?”
“She has an imagination,” Carol said softly. “She makes up such stories. She talks about ghosts and all sorts of monsters.” Carl laughed nervously. “She even had a horrible nightmare one night where Dean…where you…got electrocuted and had to go to the hospital. She woke up crying for days before she said that you were okay again. How silly is that?”
Sam chewed his lip. He wished he could agree that it was silly, that they were just nightmares that meant nothing. Were it not for the fact that it was true, Sam would have done just that. He looked down at Cecily. What was this kid, some kind of prophet? Were her dreams like Sam’s?
Cecily suddenly looked up and caught Dean’s eye. The two looked at each other for a moment before Cecily smiled and said, “I drew you a picture.”
Dean looked a bit surprised. “You did?” he managed. It was only a small resemblance to his normal way of getting along with kids.
“Uh huh,” Cecily said and got up. She walked to a coloring desk and took a picture out of one of the drawers. Then she came back over and put it down on the table. “I drew this place just for us.” She slid it over to him and Sam leaned over to get a look. It was mostly a black picture. But there was a white, thick, wavy line in the middle and further off, down a white path, there was a white box. It didn’t look like anything to Sam, but it obviously meant something to Dean.
Dean seemed to stare dazedly at the picture for a moment before he looked up at Cecily, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. With a trembling hand, he reached out and pulled the picture closer. After a few seconds, Dean put a closed fist to his mouth, the frown that lined his forehead was deeper than any Sam had ever seen and he suddenly realized why. Dean was on the verge of crying. Sam was shocked. He didn’t know what to do. His brother was losing it, right here, in front of a little girl and her mother. Sam couldn’t remember the last time Dean had let his emotions show so openly in front of strangers, hell, in front of Sam for that matter. Sam was usually the crier. Dean joked. Dean bantered. Dean made people smile. Dean did not stare at kids’ pictures and clam up. Sam was at a loss.
Letting out a shaky breath, Dean tilted his head, eyeing Sam’s legs. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead sat up straight and cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to get his emotions under control again. It worked a bit, but his face was still a bit read.
“You were there with me,” Dean whispered, looking over at Cecily.
She nodded. “You remember.”
When Dean just smiled, Sam decided to jump in. He needed to know what was going on. “Dean?” he asked. Dean turned to look at him. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Carol echoed, sitting down next to her daughter and looking at the picture as well.
Dean pointed to the picture. “I’ve been here,” he said cryptically.
Sam frowned. “What?”
“I’ve been here.” The shakiness was gone from his voice. “In the lake.” Dean nodded, as if assuring himself of something. “How did we get there?”
“I brought it to you,” Cecily said. Next to her, Carol looked as though she may burst. Sam felt the same way. “You were getting dark. I didn’t want you to be in the dark.”
Dean let out a sort of huffed laugh and gave a half smile. “Thanks,” he gave weakly. He wasn’t sure what else to say.
Sam was being patient. Or at least trying to be patient. If ever there was a time where he would consider classifying his emotional state as “wigging out,” this would be that time. Sure, with this job they dealt with some strange stuff. They dealt with dangerous things, with scary things, with powerful things. And they could handle most of them. But this? This getting inside people’s heads, prophetic dreams, “magic head” stuff? This was Sam’s area. Dean hated this stuff. Sam lived with it. Dean was the fighter. He kicked ass and was good at doing it. Sam had visions. Sam was the beacon for the creepies. Sam’s head was the magic head. So did it really make sense that Sam was lost and Dean was the one talking loony for a change? No. It made no sense. At all. Dammit, Sam wanted to know what was going on. He hated being left out of the loop. This was a trait he shared with his brother. And he was done with it.
“Dean,” Sam said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Dean looked up at him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Giving him the classical, ‘I didn’t do anything, Mom,’ look, Dean nodded and stood up. “Excuse us,” Sam said to Carol and Cecily. Carol just stared at them incredulously. Sam knew they didn’t have much time. He pulled his brother out into the hall and leaned close to him. “Dean, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“What, isn’t it obvious?” Dean asked and Sam was about to tell him to stow the sarcasm but realized his brother was looking at him seriously.
“Are you joking?” Sam asked quietly. Dean shook his head slightly and frowned at Sam. “No!” Sam yelled a bit louder than he meant to. His frustration was obvious. “No, it’s not obvious! Dean, how do you know this little girl? And what was that drawing? I don’t understand what it has to do with the lake. What do you mean you’ve been there? And what about…”
Dean held up his hand, cutting Sam off. “Whoa, whoa,” he said and Sam took a deep breath, resisting the urge to scream at his brother to just tell him what the hell was going on. “Okay, one: we’re switching you to decaf.” Sam scowled, but Dean didn’t give him time to respond. “And two…” Dean’s mouth was open and he gave a nervous chuckle, shaking his head a little. “I don’t exactly know her know her, but…I know her.”
Sam just stared at him. He needed a fun word for this emotion. Shocked didn’t cut it. Blubbering wouldn’t fit. Exasperated was close. Ah, flabbergasted. That was it. “Am I supposed to understand that?” he grit out.
Dean looked just as annoyed as Sam felt. He wasn’t sure if his brother was annoyed with him or annoyed with the fact that this was so complicated. “Look, Sammy,” Dean shrugged. “You know, at the lake…” he paused, a frown creasing his eyebrow. “She was there. She was inside my head, Sam. I mean, that picture, we were there, we were at that white river. And then it got dark and…I don’t know why I’m remembering this now.” Sam watched his brother ramble, remembering abstract concepts of something Sam couldn’t understand. “She told me where to find her. Blue house, white shutters. She said she needed my help.” Sam stood back at that. Something was starting to make sense.
“I need you to save me,” Sam whispered. Dean looked up at him, surprised. “You said that in your sleep. Does that have anything to do with this?” Dean nodded. “Then all these things that you’ve been doing. It’s because of her.” Dean opened his mouth to say something but then a disgusted look crossed his face. “What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“Dude, you better not be contagious.” Sam tilted his head. He wasn’t following. “Because if this means I’m getting the shining, we are so sleeping in separate rooms.” Sam couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm himself down.
When he opened his eyes again, Dean was watching, worried. “I don’t think it’s you that has the shining, Dean,” Sam said mockingly. He hated calling it the shining. “I think it’s her.” Another piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place. “She came to you. When you were…dead…she got inside your head. Your defenses were down, that’s why she could get in. Jesus, Dean we were half way across the country. For her to reach out that far…”
Dean was looking at him questioningly. “Okay, see, this is where my loony speak stops. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, she’s a telepath. A strong one at that. She got inside your head when you couldn’t fight back. But why was she dreaming of you?” Sam was starting to think out loud. He wasn’t even looking at Dean anymore. “Something must have sparked her connection to you. They don’t just happen randomly.”
“When did you become the expert on psychic powers?” Dean asked suddenly, breaking Sam’s thoughts.
Sam shrugged. “I did a little reading.”
Dean eyed him. “Yeah, okay,” he said suspiciously. “So, the girl’s inside my head, what now?”
“She said she needed you to save her, right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed and then shook his head as if he were clearing up a memory. “And there was something about a basement or something. I don’t remember.”
Sam watched his brother frown. He was concentrating so hard that Sam couldn’t resist. “Don’t hurt yourself.” Dean looked up at him and glared, but further conversation was broke off when Carol came out of the room looking angry but also a bit frightened. She stood with her hands crossed over her chest.
“Will someone explain to me what’s going on now?” she demanded.
Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder and pushed him forward. “Sammy boy will explain everything,” he said. “Do you mind if I go back and talk to Cecily?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Thanks.”
Carol scoffed and looked back at Sam, who smiled, a bit embarrassed. He could hear Dean start to talk to Cecily but then he focused on Carol. They wouldn’t be able to do anything to help out around here if Carol thought they were scam artists out to get her daughter. All right, here goes nothing. “Carol, I know this is a lot to take in right now, especially after what your family has gone through. But I need you to believe me when I say that we’re not here to hurt either of you. We’re here to help.”
“This is a little much for me,” Carol admitted.
“I know,” Sam said gently. “Carol, do you ever notice anything, odd about your daughter?” He hurried to go on, seeing the look on Carol’s face. “Does she ever know whose calling before you pick up the phone? Or, maybe she answers questions you think you said inside your head?”
Carol stood quietly for a moment. Sam guessed that she had noticed things like that happening. “Why are you asking me this?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Carol, we think your daughter is a telepath. And she’s connecting with my brother.” He watched the words sink in. She didn’t look as surprised as she should have been. “She asked Dean to come here and help her. She said she needed to be saved. Does that mean anything to you?”
With a shaky breath, Carol closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were tearful. “My son, Jeremy, he was killed almost two weeks ago. His friends were killed too. Cecily…she thinks that whoever killed them is going to come after her.”
“Why would she think that?” Sam asked gently.
Carol sniffed and ran a hand across her eyes. “Because he told her he would.”
***
Dean sat across from Cecily, who was back to coloring. He looked around the room, taking in everything he saw. His eyes fell on the bathroom door. He noticed the light was on. So, Sammy’s theory was right. The girl had an obsession with turning on bathroom lights. Nothing wrong with that. He just wished she wouldn’t make him do the same thing.
“I need the white spots,” Cecily’s voice broke into Dean’s thought and he found she was watching him. “That’s why I keep the lights on.”
“White spots?” Dean asked, eyes glancing back towards the picture she’d drawn him.
“A place where he can’t get us,” she whispered.
“He?” Dean asked. But Cecily went back to coloring. She didn’t answer him. Dean chewed his lip. Why did he always get stuck talking to the kids? But he knew the grumpiness wasn’t whole hearted. He had a soft spot for kids. He didn’t know where it came from. “Does this have to do with your brother?” She didn’t look up at him. “I need to know what I’m supposed to save you from.” She looked up then, but she didn’t say anything. Dean tried again. “What are you afraid of, Cecily?”
“I’m not afraid,” she scowled.
Dean smiled. Brave little kid. “You know, it’s okay to be afraid. But sometimes we have to face our fears.”
“I don’t want to,” Cecily said quietly.
“Are you afraid of what happened to your brother?” Cecily just stared down at the table, her lips quivering. All right, he was getting somewhere. “I’m afraid of things happening to my brother too.” Dean said after a moment. “I’m afraid of losing him.” She still didn’t say anything. “But you know, I just promise myself that I won’t let anything happen to him. But if anything ever did, I’d want someone to come and save me too.” If someone still cared. If someone would actually come when his sons needed him. “I’d do anything to make sure that whatever hurt my brother pays for it. Even if it meant it would be scary.”
“It’s too scary,” Cecily whispered.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dean said, leaning closer. “I’ll help you through it. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“But he knows you’re coming,” she cried.
Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “Who knows?” Nothing. “Cecily, who knows?” he demanded a bit more forcefully.
“The man in the dark!” she screamed and as the words came out of her mouth, the lights flickered and the door to the room slammed closed with such ferocity that it cracked the doorframe. Dean stared at it for a moment before looking back at Cecily, who was crying silently. He could hear Sam and Carol on the other side of the door, pounding on it and yelling their names. He blocked them out for a minute.
“Cecily, did you make the door close?” Dean asked quietly. She nodded once but refused to look at him. “Does that happen a lot?” Another nod. “When you get mad?”
“I can’t stop it sometimes,” she whispered. “It scares me.”
Dean licked his lips. Well it damn well scared him too. Suck it up though, the kid needs you. “Can you open the door?” She didn’t respond. “Did your brother know about this?” Still nothing. He was running out of ideas. “Whose the man in the dark?” Not even a flinch. “Cecily, where can I find a white spot?” The pounding on the other side of the door was growing more insistent. He could hear Sam trying to kick the door in and yelling in frustration. The lights inside the room were flickering violently. The temperature was dropping rapidly. Dean felt like there was a growing pressure all around him, trying to squeeze him to death. And Cecily had basically shut down. One last idea. “How does he know I’m coming?”
That seemed to do it. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but it worked. The lights went back to normal, the door suddenly slammed open, sending his brother sprawling onto the floor as he’d been trying to break it down. But that didn’t keep Sam down. He got to his feet and stared at his brother. Dean looked at him and he must have looked scared because Sam came over, out of breath, and leaned down to get a good look at his face. Carol rushed to her daughter, smoothing down her hair and wiping the tears off her cheeks. Dean noticed Cecily was watching him with a look akin to disappointment on her face. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
Carol was fussing over her daughter, checking to see if Dean had hurt her at all. Sam was standing next to his brother, checking to see if Cecily had hurt him at all. But all Dean or Cecily could do was stare at each other. At last, Cecily was the one to speak. And her words only made Dean think that maybe this was going to be tougher than they thought.
“Because he brought you here.”
Go to Chapter Five
Title: The Man in the Dark
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Small ones for Faith and Skin and possibly Dead in the Water.
Summary: It took a lot to shock his brother into a state of submission.
Chapter Four
Dean was sitting in a chair two sizes too small for him. Cecily hadn’t given any of them time to react before she’d taken Dean’s hand and had escorted him into the room, seating him on one side of a table while she walked around to the other and resumed the crayon drawing she’d been working on. Sam guessed his brother had been too startled to really object to the whole thing. It took a lot to shock his brother into a state of submission. Sam doubted that having a little girl say his name was enough to do the trick, so he could only guess that somehow, in some little way, Dean recognized the blonde girl with pigtails. Sam didn’t think anything good could come of this.
Carol had gone in immediately after that, but still had yet to say anything. She was standing behind her daughter, looking at Dean like he was a long lost cousin they’d been told died years and years ago. Sam unknowingly mirrored her stance by standing behind his brother, a similar look on his face as he watched Cecily as she colored. Sam was aware that there was an awkward silence in the room, one that probably should have been filled with questions, worry, accusations, maybe even an explanation or two. But no one seemed to want to say a thing. Cecily was the only one who was acting like nothing strange was going on, like she hadn’t just treated a complete stranger as if she’d known him her entire life, as if she’d expected him to show up, as if she hadn’t just found someone she’d been playing a lifelong game of hide and seek with.
“Your name is Dean?” Carol’s inquisitive voice finally broke the silence and Sam and Dean both looked up at her. Dean nodded slightly in response. “Dean Winchester?” she asked again, her eyes flickering.
Mouth half open, Dean struggled for a response. Sam winced when the only one his brother could come up with was, “Depends on what day of the week it is.” But he’d said it without much emotion and his eyes were back on Cecily. Sam realized his brother was barely holding it together. He needed to take action.
“How did you know that?” he asked, taking a step protectively towards his brother. He half expected thirty FBI agents with guns blazing to jump out from behind the curtains and come at them. Dean Winchester was a wanted man. Dean Winchester was also a dead man with a tombstone over a coffin that held a creature with the same face. Dean Winchester wasn’t a name they liked to throw around to complete strangers.
Carol shook her head and gave a smile that looked as if she didn’t know what else to do. Smile or scream. She looked back down at Dean. “I thought…” she paused. “I thought Dean was her imaginary friend,” she said at last. Sam frowned. What the hell was going on? “But, here you are, sitting in this room,” Carol gave a gruff laugh. “She’s been talking about you for months.”
“What?” Sam blurted before he could stop himself. He exchanged a look with his brother. “What has she been saying?”
“She has an imagination,” Carol said softly. “She makes up such stories. She talks about ghosts and all sorts of monsters.” Carl laughed nervously. “She even had a horrible nightmare one night where Dean…where you…got electrocuted and had to go to the hospital. She woke up crying for days before she said that you were okay again. How silly is that?”
Sam chewed his lip. He wished he could agree that it was silly, that they were just nightmares that meant nothing. Were it not for the fact that it was true, Sam would have done just that. He looked down at Cecily. What was this kid, some kind of prophet? Were her dreams like Sam’s?
Cecily suddenly looked up and caught Dean’s eye. The two looked at each other for a moment before Cecily smiled and said, “I drew you a picture.”
Dean looked a bit surprised. “You did?” he managed. It was only a small resemblance to his normal way of getting along with kids.
“Uh huh,” Cecily said and got up. She walked to a coloring desk and took a picture out of one of the drawers. Then she came back over and put it down on the table. “I drew this place just for us.” She slid it over to him and Sam leaned over to get a look. It was mostly a black picture. But there was a white, thick, wavy line in the middle and further off, down a white path, there was a white box. It didn’t look like anything to Sam, but it obviously meant something to Dean.
Dean seemed to stare dazedly at the picture for a moment before he looked up at Cecily, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. With a trembling hand, he reached out and pulled the picture closer. After a few seconds, Dean put a closed fist to his mouth, the frown that lined his forehead was deeper than any Sam had ever seen and he suddenly realized why. Dean was on the verge of crying. Sam was shocked. He didn’t know what to do. His brother was losing it, right here, in front of a little girl and her mother. Sam couldn’t remember the last time Dean had let his emotions show so openly in front of strangers, hell, in front of Sam for that matter. Sam was usually the crier. Dean joked. Dean bantered. Dean made people smile. Dean did not stare at kids’ pictures and clam up. Sam was at a loss.
Letting out a shaky breath, Dean tilted his head, eyeing Sam’s legs. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead sat up straight and cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to get his emotions under control again. It worked a bit, but his face was still a bit read.
“You were there with me,” Dean whispered, looking over at Cecily.
She nodded. “You remember.”
When Dean just smiled, Sam decided to jump in. He needed to know what was going on. “Dean?” he asked. Dean turned to look at him. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Carol echoed, sitting down next to her daughter and looking at the picture as well.
Dean pointed to the picture. “I’ve been here,” he said cryptically.
Sam frowned. “What?”
“I’ve been here.” The shakiness was gone from his voice. “In the lake.” Dean nodded, as if assuring himself of something. “How did we get there?”
“I brought it to you,” Cecily said. Next to her, Carol looked as though she may burst. Sam felt the same way. “You were getting dark. I didn’t want you to be in the dark.”
Dean let out a sort of huffed laugh and gave a half smile. “Thanks,” he gave weakly. He wasn’t sure what else to say.
Sam was being patient. Or at least trying to be patient. If ever there was a time where he would consider classifying his emotional state as “wigging out,” this would be that time. Sure, with this job they dealt with some strange stuff. They dealt with dangerous things, with scary things, with powerful things. And they could handle most of them. But this? This getting inside people’s heads, prophetic dreams, “magic head” stuff? This was Sam’s area. Dean hated this stuff. Sam lived with it. Dean was the fighter. He kicked ass and was good at doing it. Sam had visions. Sam was the beacon for the creepies. Sam’s head was the magic head. So did it really make sense that Sam was lost and Dean was the one talking loony for a change? No. It made no sense. At all. Dammit, Sam wanted to know what was going on. He hated being left out of the loop. This was a trait he shared with his brother. And he was done with it.
“Dean,” Sam said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Dean looked up at him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Giving him the classical, ‘I didn’t do anything, Mom,’ look, Dean nodded and stood up. “Excuse us,” Sam said to Carol and Cecily. Carol just stared at them incredulously. Sam knew they didn’t have much time. He pulled his brother out into the hall and leaned close to him. “Dean, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“What, isn’t it obvious?” Dean asked and Sam was about to tell him to stow the sarcasm but realized his brother was looking at him seriously.
“Are you joking?” Sam asked quietly. Dean shook his head slightly and frowned at Sam. “No!” Sam yelled a bit louder than he meant to. His frustration was obvious. “No, it’s not obvious! Dean, how do you know this little girl? And what was that drawing? I don’t understand what it has to do with the lake. What do you mean you’ve been there? And what about…”
Dean held up his hand, cutting Sam off. “Whoa, whoa,” he said and Sam took a deep breath, resisting the urge to scream at his brother to just tell him what the hell was going on. “Okay, one: we’re switching you to decaf.” Sam scowled, but Dean didn’t give him time to respond. “And two…” Dean’s mouth was open and he gave a nervous chuckle, shaking his head a little. “I don’t exactly know her know her, but…I know her.”
Sam just stared at him. He needed a fun word for this emotion. Shocked didn’t cut it. Blubbering wouldn’t fit. Exasperated was close. Ah, flabbergasted. That was it. “Am I supposed to understand that?” he grit out.
Dean looked just as annoyed as Sam felt. He wasn’t sure if his brother was annoyed with him or annoyed with the fact that this was so complicated. “Look, Sammy,” Dean shrugged. “You know, at the lake…” he paused, a frown creasing his eyebrow. “She was there. She was inside my head, Sam. I mean, that picture, we were there, we were at that white river. And then it got dark and…I don’t know why I’m remembering this now.” Sam watched his brother ramble, remembering abstract concepts of something Sam couldn’t understand. “She told me where to find her. Blue house, white shutters. She said she needed my help.” Sam stood back at that. Something was starting to make sense.
“I need you to save me,” Sam whispered. Dean looked up at him, surprised. “You said that in your sleep. Does that have anything to do with this?” Dean nodded. “Then all these things that you’ve been doing. It’s because of her.” Dean opened his mouth to say something but then a disgusted look crossed his face. “What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“Dude, you better not be contagious.” Sam tilted his head. He wasn’t following. “Because if this means I’m getting the shining, we are so sleeping in separate rooms.” Sam couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm himself down.
When he opened his eyes again, Dean was watching, worried. “I don’t think it’s you that has the shining, Dean,” Sam said mockingly. He hated calling it the shining. “I think it’s her.” Another piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place. “She came to you. When you were…dead…she got inside your head. Your defenses were down, that’s why she could get in. Jesus, Dean we were half way across the country. For her to reach out that far…”
Dean was looking at him questioningly. “Okay, see, this is where my loony speak stops. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, she’s a telepath. A strong one at that. She got inside your head when you couldn’t fight back. But why was she dreaming of you?” Sam was starting to think out loud. He wasn’t even looking at Dean anymore. “Something must have sparked her connection to you. They don’t just happen randomly.”
“When did you become the expert on psychic powers?” Dean asked suddenly, breaking Sam’s thoughts.
Sam shrugged. “I did a little reading.”
Dean eyed him. “Yeah, okay,” he said suspiciously. “So, the girl’s inside my head, what now?”
“She said she needed you to save her, right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed and then shook his head as if he were clearing up a memory. “And there was something about a basement or something. I don’t remember.”
Sam watched his brother frown. He was concentrating so hard that Sam couldn’t resist. “Don’t hurt yourself.” Dean looked up at him and glared, but further conversation was broke off when Carol came out of the room looking angry but also a bit frightened. She stood with her hands crossed over her chest.
“Will someone explain to me what’s going on now?” she demanded.
Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder and pushed him forward. “Sammy boy will explain everything,” he said. “Do you mind if I go back and talk to Cecily?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Thanks.”
Carol scoffed and looked back at Sam, who smiled, a bit embarrassed. He could hear Dean start to talk to Cecily but then he focused on Carol. They wouldn’t be able to do anything to help out around here if Carol thought they were scam artists out to get her daughter. All right, here goes nothing. “Carol, I know this is a lot to take in right now, especially after what your family has gone through. But I need you to believe me when I say that we’re not here to hurt either of you. We’re here to help.”
“This is a little much for me,” Carol admitted.
“I know,” Sam said gently. “Carol, do you ever notice anything, odd about your daughter?” He hurried to go on, seeing the look on Carol’s face. “Does she ever know whose calling before you pick up the phone? Or, maybe she answers questions you think you said inside your head?”
Carol stood quietly for a moment. Sam guessed that she had noticed things like that happening. “Why are you asking me this?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Carol, we think your daughter is a telepath. And she’s connecting with my brother.” He watched the words sink in. She didn’t look as surprised as she should have been. “She asked Dean to come here and help her. She said she needed to be saved. Does that mean anything to you?”
With a shaky breath, Carol closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were tearful. “My son, Jeremy, he was killed almost two weeks ago. His friends were killed too. Cecily…she thinks that whoever killed them is going to come after her.”
“Why would she think that?” Sam asked gently.
Carol sniffed and ran a hand across her eyes. “Because he told her he would.”
***
Dean sat across from Cecily, who was back to coloring. He looked around the room, taking in everything he saw. His eyes fell on the bathroom door. He noticed the light was on. So, Sammy’s theory was right. The girl had an obsession with turning on bathroom lights. Nothing wrong with that. He just wished she wouldn’t make him do the same thing.
“I need the white spots,” Cecily’s voice broke into Dean’s thought and he found she was watching him. “That’s why I keep the lights on.”
“White spots?” Dean asked, eyes glancing back towards the picture she’d drawn him.
“A place where he can’t get us,” she whispered.
“He?” Dean asked. But Cecily went back to coloring. She didn’t answer him. Dean chewed his lip. Why did he always get stuck talking to the kids? But he knew the grumpiness wasn’t whole hearted. He had a soft spot for kids. He didn’t know where it came from. “Does this have to do with your brother?” She didn’t look up at him. “I need to know what I’m supposed to save you from.” She looked up then, but she didn’t say anything. Dean tried again. “What are you afraid of, Cecily?”
“I’m not afraid,” she scowled.
Dean smiled. Brave little kid. “You know, it’s okay to be afraid. But sometimes we have to face our fears.”
“I don’t want to,” Cecily said quietly.
“Are you afraid of what happened to your brother?” Cecily just stared down at the table, her lips quivering. All right, he was getting somewhere. “I’m afraid of things happening to my brother too.” Dean said after a moment. “I’m afraid of losing him.” She still didn’t say anything. “But you know, I just promise myself that I won’t let anything happen to him. But if anything ever did, I’d want someone to come and save me too.” If someone still cared. If someone would actually come when his sons needed him. “I’d do anything to make sure that whatever hurt my brother pays for it. Even if it meant it would be scary.”
“It’s too scary,” Cecily whispered.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dean said, leaning closer. “I’ll help you through it. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“But he knows you’re coming,” she cried.
Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “Who knows?” Nothing. “Cecily, who knows?” he demanded a bit more forcefully.
“The man in the dark!” she screamed and as the words came out of her mouth, the lights flickered and the door to the room slammed closed with such ferocity that it cracked the doorframe. Dean stared at it for a moment before looking back at Cecily, who was crying silently. He could hear Sam and Carol on the other side of the door, pounding on it and yelling their names. He blocked them out for a minute.
“Cecily, did you make the door close?” Dean asked quietly. She nodded once but refused to look at him. “Does that happen a lot?” Another nod. “When you get mad?”
“I can’t stop it sometimes,” she whispered. “It scares me.”
Dean licked his lips. Well it damn well scared him too. Suck it up though, the kid needs you. “Can you open the door?” She didn’t respond. “Did your brother know about this?” Still nothing. He was running out of ideas. “Whose the man in the dark?” Not even a flinch. “Cecily, where can I find a white spot?” The pounding on the other side of the door was growing more insistent. He could hear Sam trying to kick the door in and yelling in frustration. The lights inside the room were flickering violently. The temperature was dropping rapidly. Dean felt like there was a growing pressure all around him, trying to squeeze him to death. And Cecily had basically shut down. One last idea. “How does he know I’m coming?”
That seemed to do it. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but it worked. The lights went back to normal, the door suddenly slammed open, sending his brother sprawling onto the floor as he’d been trying to break it down. But that didn’t keep Sam down. He got to his feet and stared at his brother. Dean looked at him and he must have looked scared because Sam came over, out of breath, and leaned down to get a good look at his face. Carol rushed to her daughter, smoothing down her hair and wiping the tears off her cheeks. Dean noticed Cecily was watching him with a look akin to disappointment on her face. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
Carol was fussing over her daughter, checking to see if Dean had hurt her at all. Sam was standing next to his brother, checking to see if Cecily had hurt him at all. But all Dean or Cecily could do was stare at each other. At last, Cecily was the one to speak. And her words only made Dean think that maybe this was going to be tougher than they thought.
“Because he brought you here.”
Go to Chapter Five