09x16 - Boogie Man - Part One: Hagondes
Episode Number: 09x16 of Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Boogie Man
Subtitle: Hagondes
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word Count: 1,338
Spoilers: Through episode 08x20 "Pac Man Fever"
Rating: R
Warnings: language, drug use, violence, terror
Gallup, New Mexico. Linus moved through the saturated dance floor, giddy at his latest score. He'd taken more than he usually did, but it was Friday and the entire weekend was ahead of him.
"Line-us!" yelled his friend Nigel.
He changed course to meet up with his friend. They usually came together or with a group to the Halo Hallows every weekend, although as of late the group had made it a daily habit.
"Nigel, where's Amy?" he asked as soon as he got to their high-standing table.
"She went out to score some from The Clown."
Linus shivered. He didn't mind clowns in general, but The Clown was a dealer in a clown mask. He dealt exclusively in crystal meth and ecstasy, and he hid his face with an ugly, long-nosed clown mask. Some people had taken to calling the dealer the Ice Cream Man, because he came around to the clubs once, maybe twice, a night, and he somehow coordinated his arrival and departure times with specific club songs.
The entire scenario gave Linus the willies. Maybe it was the combination of childhood icons with illegal drugs that creeped Linus out. Or maybe he just preferred to look a guy in the eyes when buying from him.
"You let her go out on her own for a buy?" Linus asked Nigel. "From The Clown? You're kidding."
"I had to go to the can," Nigel replied. "Chill out, she can handle herself."
"I'm gonna check up, okay?"
"You get me some stuff?" Nigel asked, sliding Linus a few twenties.
"Fine," Linus chirped as he plowed through the crowd to the side door.
Once he stepped out into the mild night air, the music dropped, but the bass permeated the building's shell. Amy bumped against his shoulder on her way back in.
"Sorry - oh, Linus," she said.
"You're okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, heading back in. Are you - "
"I'll be right in after you," Linus replied. "Go on."
The music flared up full throttle as the door swung opened, and Amy ducked back inside.
Linus headed toward The Clown, who looked particularly sinister in the alley lights, which had an odd purple-ish glow.
The Clown held up a fist, and Linus responded with two fingers on his forehead. The Clown nodded yes and returned the signal, so Linus proceeded. The exchange was quick and simple, but something felt off.
"That your dog?" The Clown asked.
Linus turned his head to see a large dog disappearing around the alley.
"No, man," he replied.
"You should follow it," The Clown said.
Linus couldn't get the dog out of his head. He stared where the dog used to be, wondering -
"Follow the dog," someone said.
Linus jerked suddenly aware, alert, and startled. He must've zoned out for several minutes at least because The Clown wasn't in the alley with him anymore.
"Follow the dog."
'Who said that?' Linus thought to himself. At the same time, he didn't actually care.
Something moved beyond the alley. It was the dog he'd seen earlier. It was large and shaggy with a deep, dark, silky coat. Its breath heaved out like a smoke, thick as fog, and its eyes reflected back far too much light.
Linus's eyes met the dog's, and the clock stopped.
"Follow the dog."
Linus obeyed this time, leaving the anthemic thumping of the club music to shadow the soft padding rhythm of the animal's footsteps.
He didn't keep track of how far he'd walked, and his recent high tainted his perception of time. His legs and back ached, but he couldn't stop. He had to follow the dog.
"Whatcher name?" someone asked. It was the first thing he'd really heard anything since The Clown's voice, so he stopped.
"Linus," he said to no one in particular.
"Linus," the stranger repeated. "Wanna come in?"
The stranger had a long, black coat to match his long, dark hair. He should have blended into the darkness around him, but for some reason, Linus could see nothing else but this man and his invitation to step through the door.
"Yes," Linus replied idly.
The stranger waved him inside. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a sharp pain plunged into his lower spine, then again into his upper back, and then finally into his neck. His own blood choked him, and he spun around to see the stranger's eyes glowing a glistening red.
As terror bubbled up into his slowly fading mind, the stranger's formed became sludge, then reverted to the shaggy dog, its eyes ever red.
Castiel's eyes were closed, but angels don't sleep. If they did, Dean imagined Cas would be asleep for years. He offered the angel some small measure of comfort: a hand, a touch, a kiss.
Cas remained listless and distant. Were it not for Dean's insistence that he stay inside the bunker, away from angelic assassination attempts, he'd probably be in hiding somewhere in the cosmos or on some kind of walkabout between the stars.
"Cas, you've been in bed all day," Dean said, "and not in a good way."
"Yes, Dean," he replied without opening his eyes.
"You need to get up," Dean continued. "We need you on your feet, Cas."
"I understand."
Castiel didn't move.
Dean crawled into bed beside him, crowding Cas's space, tangling up with him. Cas didn't resist, didn't move, didn't open his eyes.
"Cas," Dean pleaded. "None of this was your fault."
"Unfortunately, the fact does not eradicate the feeling that the guilt is mine," Cas said in complete deadpan.
"Look at me."
"No."
"Damnit, Cas, grow a pair and look at me!" Dean barked.
"No."
Dean turned the angel's face towards him, then gently moved his thumb to open one of his eyes. Cas shook him off and pushed Dean's hands away from his face.
"Stop it," Cas commanded.
Dean struggled against his partner, not letting him pull or push away. Finally, annoyed and exhausted from the effort, Cas opened his eyes.
"Dean," he whispered. "Please."
"Sam's in New Jersey watching over a Prophet that is too stubborn to do anything but finish his Fall exams. Sam's FBI buddy, whoever she is, is trying to relocate the Hunter Tweens without drawing too much suspicion, and we're here, Cas. Not helping. Not working. You understand?"
"You should help your brother," Cas replied dryly.
"I'm helping you," Dean pressed.
"I can't - "
"You can!"
"Dean, I can't. Don't you understand?"
"No, no I don't," Dean admitted. "But what I know is that you can't stay in this bed any long, okay? You're going to get your ass up and then you are gonna help me figure this shit out. You understand?"
Castiel closed his eyes and leaned his head in, allowing his forehead to press against Dean's. He opened his crystal blue eyes and replied, "It's happening all over again, don't you see?"
"Then we're gonna stop this all over again, you understand?"
"You have faith."
"No, I have a bunker full of books and weapons," Dean said, "and we've been up against this before with a lot less and came up alive. We can do this, but I need you, Cas. Okay? I need you."
Cas wasn't convinced, but he nodded. He took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, getting to his feet with some difficulty.
"Is this how you feel?" Castiel asked.
"What?" Dean said, coming to the angel's side.
"When you are defeated and manipulated and beaten," Cas said, "is this how you feel?"
"Sometimes," Dean said. "But you're none of those things, Castiel."
His hunter wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug, brushing his cheek with his lips in what might be a kiss. The angel turned his head and embraced a second, real kiss, long and warm and comforting.
"I know," Cas said. "I know," he repeated, as if saying it made him believe it more. "Where do we start?"
Dean guided him out the door downstairs to the war room.
<<< Previous Episode:
09x15 Unreliable Narrator
Next Part: >>>
Part Two: Skatene
Primary Post: 09x16 Boogie Man
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Boogie Man
Subtitle: Hagondes
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word Count: 1,338
Spoilers: Through episode 08x20 "Pac Man Fever"
Rating: R
Warnings: language, drug use, violence, terror
Gallup, New Mexico. Linus moved through the saturated dance floor, giddy at his latest score. He'd taken more than he usually did, but it was Friday and the entire weekend was ahead of him.
"Line-us!" yelled his friend Nigel.
He changed course to meet up with his friend. They usually came together or with a group to the Halo Hallows every weekend, although as of late the group had made it a daily habit.
"Nigel, where's Amy?" he asked as soon as he got to their high-standing table.
"She went out to score some from The Clown."
Linus shivered. He didn't mind clowns in general, but The Clown was a dealer in a clown mask. He dealt exclusively in crystal meth and ecstasy, and he hid his face with an ugly, long-nosed clown mask. Some people had taken to calling the dealer the Ice Cream Man, because he came around to the clubs once, maybe twice, a night, and he somehow coordinated his arrival and departure times with specific club songs.
The entire scenario gave Linus the willies. Maybe it was the combination of childhood icons with illegal drugs that creeped Linus out. Or maybe he just preferred to look a guy in the eyes when buying from him.
"You let her go out on her own for a buy?" Linus asked Nigel. "From The Clown? You're kidding."
"I had to go to the can," Nigel replied. "Chill out, she can handle herself."
"I'm gonna check up, okay?"
"You get me some stuff?" Nigel asked, sliding Linus a few twenties.
"Fine," Linus chirped as he plowed through the crowd to the side door.
Once he stepped out into the mild night air, the music dropped, but the bass permeated the building's shell. Amy bumped against his shoulder on her way back in.
"Sorry - oh, Linus," she said.
"You're okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, heading back in. Are you - "
"I'll be right in after you," Linus replied. "Go on."
The music flared up full throttle as the door swung opened, and Amy ducked back inside.
Linus headed toward The Clown, who looked particularly sinister in the alley lights, which had an odd purple-ish glow.
The Clown held up a fist, and Linus responded with two fingers on his forehead. The Clown nodded yes and returned the signal, so Linus proceeded. The exchange was quick and simple, but something felt off.
"That your dog?" The Clown asked.
Linus turned his head to see a large dog disappearing around the alley.
"No, man," he replied.
"You should follow it," The Clown said.
Linus couldn't get the dog out of his head. He stared where the dog used to be, wondering -
"Follow the dog," someone said.
Linus jerked suddenly aware, alert, and startled. He must've zoned out for several minutes at least because The Clown wasn't in the alley with him anymore.
"Follow the dog."
'Who said that?' Linus thought to himself. At the same time, he didn't actually care.
Something moved beyond the alley. It was the dog he'd seen earlier. It was large and shaggy with a deep, dark, silky coat. Its breath heaved out like a smoke, thick as fog, and its eyes reflected back far too much light.
Linus's eyes met the dog's, and the clock stopped.
"Follow the dog."
Linus obeyed this time, leaving the anthemic thumping of the club music to shadow the soft padding rhythm of the animal's footsteps.
He didn't keep track of how far he'd walked, and his recent high tainted his perception of time. His legs and back ached, but he couldn't stop. He had to follow the dog.
"Whatcher name?" someone asked. It was the first thing he'd really heard anything since The Clown's voice, so he stopped.
"Linus," he said to no one in particular.
"Linus," the stranger repeated. "Wanna come in?"
The stranger had a long, black coat to match his long, dark hair. He should have blended into the darkness around him, but for some reason, Linus could see nothing else but this man and his invitation to step through the door.
"Yes," Linus replied idly.
The stranger waved him inside. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a sharp pain plunged into his lower spine, then again into his upper back, and then finally into his neck. His own blood choked him, and he spun around to see the stranger's eyes glowing a glistening red.
As terror bubbled up into his slowly fading mind, the stranger's formed became sludge, then reverted to the shaggy dog, its eyes ever red.
Castiel's eyes were closed, but angels don't sleep. If they did, Dean imagined Cas would be asleep for years. He offered the angel some small measure of comfort: a hand, a touch, a kiss.
Cas remained listless and distant. Were it not for Dean's insistence that he stay inside the bunker, away from angelic assassination attempts, he'd probably be in hiding somewhere in the cosmos or on some kind of walkabout between the stars.
"Cas, you've been in bed all day," Dean said, "and not in a good way."
"Yes, Dean," he replied without opening his eyes.
"You need to get up," Dean continued. "We need you on your feet, Cas."
"I understand."
Castiel didn't move.
Dean crawled into bed beside him, crowding Cas's space, tangling up with him. Cas didn't resist, didn't move, didn't open his eyes.
"Cas," Dean pleaded. "None of this was your fault."
"Unfortunately, the fact does not eradicate the feeling that the guilt is mine," Cas said in complete deadpan.
"Look at me."
"No."
"Damnit, Cas, grow a pair and look at me!" Dean barked.
"No."
Dean turned the angel's face towards him, then gently moved his thumb to open one of his eyes. Cas shook him off and pushed Dean's hands away from his face.
"Stop it," Cas commanded.
Dean struggled against his partner, not letting him pull or push away. Finally, annoyed and exhausted from the effort, Cas opened his eyes.
"Dean," he whispered. "Please."
"Sam's in New Jersey watching over a Prophet that is too stubborn to do anything but finish his Fall exams. Sam's FBI buddy, whoever she is, is trying to relocate the Hunter Tweens without drawing too much suspicion, and we're here, Cas. Not helping. Not working. You understand?"
"You should help your brother," Cas replied dryly.
"I'm helping you," Dean pressed.
"I can't - "
"You can!"
"Dean, I can't. Don't you understand?"
"No, no I don't," Dean admitted. "But what I know is that you can't stay in this bed any long, okay? You're going to get your ass up and then you are gonna help me figure this shit out. You understand?"
Castiel closed his eyes and leaned his head in, allowing his forehead to press against Dean's. He opened his crystal blue eyes and replied, "It's happening all over again, don't you see?"
"Then we're gonna stop this all over again, you understand?"
"You have faith."
"No, I have a bunker full of books and weapons," Dean said, "and we've been up against this before with a lot less and came up alive. We can do this, but I need you, Cas. Okay? I need you."
Cas wasn't convinced, but he nodded. He took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, getting to his feet with some difficulty.
"Is this how you feel?" Castiel asked.
"What?" Dean said, coming to the angel's side.
"When you are defeated and manipulated and beaten," Cas said, "is this how you feel?"
"Sometimes," Dean said. "But you're none of those things, Castiel."
His hunter wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug, brushing his cheek with his lips in what might be a kiss. The angel turned his head and embraced a second, real kiss, long and warm and comforting.
"I know," Cas said. "I know," he repeated, as if saying it made him believe it more. "Where do we start?"
Dean guided him out the door downstairs to the war room.
<<< Previous Episode:
09x15 Unreliable Narrator
Next Part: >>>
Part Two: Skatene
Primary Post: 09x16 Boogie Man
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)