Confessions of a Male Escort
Small warning that this chapter gets really bloody depressing later on. Just thought I'd give you fair warning.
Chapter Eight A
25th October, 2008. Rock Ridge, CO.
Harry walked in behind Sam and Dean into the morgue, all wearing the required suits that pretend FBI agents were supposed to wear and all trying to look like they belonged there. Well, Harry actually just looked bored and Sam and Dean had had enough practice in faking it as FBI agents. Harry silently wished that Ardifiel was there instead of having to leave on Super Secret Angel Business.
"Agent's Tyler, Perry, Tufnel, meet Frank O'Brien." The coroner said to them as he opened the body bag and allowed the three 'agents' to have a look at the body.
"He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam asked, looking at the body and then up at the coroner.
"Three days ago."
"But O'Brien was forty four years old and, according to this, a marathon runner." Sam stated in disbelief, whilst Dean and Harry stayed silent and let Sam deal with the coroner, seeing as either one of them was bound to say something inappropriate.
"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security." The coroner told them and Harry nodded his head.
"Smart man. I've got that as well. Never know when someone's just gonna come along and -"
"Thank you, Agent Tufnel! I don't think we need you to finish that, thanks." Sam said suddenly, stopping whatever Harry was about to tell the poor coroner.
"But Frank kicked it here. Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?" Dean asked, trying not to grin at Harry's outraged expression at having been interrupted.
"Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?" The Coroner asked, and Harry gave him a stunned look.
"We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy." Dean told him and the Coroner looked at him in confusion.
"What autopsy?"
"The one you're gonna do." Dean told him firmly, making Harry bite his lip to stop his laughter. If only so that Dean didn't realise that he had amused Harry. The coroner sighed and then moved to the body and cut it open, looking up and catching the somewhat disturbed looks on Sam and Dean's faces and the bored one on Harry's.
"First dead body?" The coroner asked the two next to Harry, who snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Far from it." Dean told him dryly and Harry muttered under his breath about understatements.
"Oh good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe. Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?" The coroner asked, and Harry picked up a large pair of... well he thought they were shears but assumed they would cut through ribs, and the coroner didn't correct him when he handed them over.
Harry glanced over when Sam took a deep, unsteady breath as the man began to cut into the ribs. Harry then smirked when Sam visibly tried to keep himself from cringing.
"Is that from a wedding ring? I didn't think Frank was married." Dean commented, noticing a pale mark where a wedding ring had been.
"Ain't my department." The coroner told him as he continued to cut into the ribs, whilst Harry just took great joy in Sam's discomfort.
"Any idea how he got these?" Harry commented suddenly, holding up the man's arm that had scratches all down them.
"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground." The coroner told them, making Harry frown as he was pretty sure they looked self-inflicted. He'd seen them plenty of times before. "Huh."
"What?" Sam asked, having apparently finally settled him stomach slightly.
"I - I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries." The coroner said in a slightly distracted voice, then cut out the heart, making a snapping noise that made Dean lurch slightly like he was going to be sick. Harry snickered slightly from beside him and then smiled innocently when Dean turned to glare at him. "Heart looks pretty damn healthy. Hold that a second, would you?" The man held out the heart, making Sam and Dean take a subtle step back, leaving only Harry standing there to hold the heart, which he did with a shrug. The coroner then returned to cutting something else in the body.
Much to the clear amusement of Harry and Dean, the coroner hit a vein in the body and hit Sam's face with blood. "Oh, sorry. Spleen juice." Harry coughed to hide his laugh, whilst Dean just stood back and smirked.
Later that day, they were all sitting in front of the deputy's desk in the sheriffs station, waiting for the sheriff to come out and talk to them.
"I'm bored." Harry muttered under his breath, making Sam glare at him, having still not forgiven him for laughing at the blood incident. "Oh let it go, I was forced to hold a heart."
"Yeah, and you've got it all off your face. Quit bein' a baby." Dean muttered back at Sam with a grin on his face, which just widened when Sam turned his glare to him.
"Hell's bells, Linus, have you seen my - who are they?" The man who Harry assumed was the sheriff, given he had just walked out of the sheriff's office, asked, looking at the three sitting in the room curiously.
"Federal agents. I, uh..." Deputy Linus trailed off, noticing the shocked and slightly disbelieving look on his face.
"And you kept them waiting?"
"You - you said not to disturb." Linus said incredulously, staring at the back of the sheriff when he turned to look at the three 'federal agents'.
"Come on back, fellas." The sheriff said to them with a smile, motioning for them to follow him. They all stood up and followed behind him, only for him to stop them just before they entered the room. "Shoes off." He told them with a smile, making Harry gape at him incredulously.
"You have got to be kidding me." Harry muttered, toeing off his shoes and kicking them next to Sam's. Still muttering under his breath as he followed the other two into the office.
"Al Britton. Good to meet you." Sheriff Britton said, shaking them hands and then moving to the other side of his desk.
"You too." Sam told him, and then took a seat when the Sheriff motioned for them to do so, rolling his eyes when he saw Harry and Dean briefly scuffle over who got the other chair, Harry being the one to win.
Sheriff Britton then took out some alcohol gel and squirted quite a bit on his hands, before he began to rigorously slather it in. Dean and Harry caught one another's eyes and traded weird looks, whilst Sam just shook his head at the two.
"Okay. So, what can I do for uncle Sam?" Sheriff Britton asked, making Harry look at Sam and then at Dean in confusion, Dean just smirked at him and shook his head to tell him not to say anything.
"Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body." Sam said, whilst Dean tried to silently tell Harry to keep quiet and give him the seat.
"They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks." Sheriff Britton said and both Harry and Dean began to snicker then stopped with contrite looks on their faces when Sheriff Britton gave them both a stern look. "That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was... he was a good man."
"Yeah. Big heart." Dean said with a smirk at Harry, who scowled at him.
"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?" Sam said, throwing a warning look at the two beside him.
"Oh hell yeah. Real jumpy." Britton told them with a frown on his face.
"You know what scared him?" Sam asked, whilst Harry was watching the man closely with a frown, wondering why he kept twitching.
"No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest." Britton told them and Harry glanced at Sam and then back at the Sheriff when he started and poured more gel onto his hands. Harry glanced at Dean, and both of them traded similar looks of utter bafflement.
"So why'd the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?" Britton asked them as he began to slather more gel on his hands.
"No, no. It's probably nothing." Dean said, whilst Harry nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, just a heart attack probably." Harry commented after Dean, making Sam shoot them both a suspicious look seeing as they appeared to be in agreement with one another for once.
"No way that was a heart attack." Dean stated once they had left the Sheriff's office and were walking back to the Impala.
"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours." Sam said and Harry frowned in confusion.
"Something scared them to death? That can actually happen?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Apparently so." Dean muttered with a shrug.
"Alright, so what can do that?" Sam asked them both and Harry shrugged then looked at Dean to see if he actually knew.
"What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra?"
"Back to the capybara again. What is your beef with them? They just eat goats." Harry muttered, making Dean gape at him and then turn to Sam, who just sighed and shook his head. "Ooh! Grims! They kill people when you see them. Don't know why, but they do."
"Grims?" Dean asked him with a confused frown on his face, getting a wide smile from Harry for actually knowing something that a Winchester didn't.
"Yeah! They're these big black dogs that when you see them, you die. You know. 'Oh, a big black dog. Argh! Heart attack.' Die." Harry said, clutching at his chest when he said 'argh'. Dean just stared at him whilst Sam sniggered.
"Okay, right, so then we all work together to make a list of what can kill someone by scaring them to death. Then we start crossing things off." Sam told them, getting nods of agreement form the other two, though Harry did wrinkle his nose slightly.
"Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked and Sam scrunched his face in thought for a second, whilst Harry just shrugged.
"Uh, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins."
"Okay, so lets -" Dean was interrupted by Harry grabbing their arms and stopping them.
"Wait, wait, wait." Harry said, making Sam and Dean glance at one another in confusion and then back at Harry, who was looking past them at something.
"What?" Sam asked finally when it looked like Harry was neither going to let them go or explain why he was clinging to them.
"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." Harry told them, making Sam and Dean look around and then see a group of teenagers talking near the Impala. "They could have knives. Happens all the time. Teens with knives."
"Er..."
"Dude! They don't have knives." Dean exclaimed, making Harry raise an eyebrow at him.
"How do you know? They could have a whole arsenal on them and we wouldn't know until we had more holes in us than a sieve. We shouldn't risk it. Let's walk this way." Harry told them, letting go of their arms and crossing the street, whilst Sam and Dean just stared after him, completely perplexed.
They all sat on the couch in Mark Hutchin's house, having just told the man their names, showing him their badges.
"Tyler and Perry, just like Aerosmith? Shame you didn't get someone instead of Tufnel." He said with a laugh, getting an indignant glare from Harry.
"Right with ya on that one." Dean muttered, and Sam coughed before Harry could retort.
"Yeah, small world. So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?" Sam asked, whilst Harry twitched and looked around him, eyeing the tanks of lizards warily and inching closer to Sam.
"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains." Mark told them, looking at Harry for a second before turning his attention back to Sam.
"Hmm. Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" Sam asked, whilst Dean looked behind Sam at Harry, who was nibbling his lip and frowning.
"Oh totally. He was freaking out." Mark told them with a nod, and Sam and Dean both glanced to the side to see that Harry looked pretty freaked out himself.
"What's up with him?" Dean muttered to Sam, making Harry jump and look at him, completely spooked.
"Do you know, er... d-do you know what scared him?" Harry asked him in a quiet voice, eyes darting to look at Dean suspiciously, then back to Mark. He ignored the hissing voice he could hear behind him.
"Well, yeah, witches."
"Witches?" Sam asked him, making Harry pale, whilst Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Like...?"
"Well, Wizard of Oz was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him." Mark told them earnestly.
"Anything else scare him?" Sam asked him and Mark chuckled and shook his head.
"Everything else scared him. Al-Quieda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff." Mark told them and Harry glanced at him warily, still ignoring the hissing that was slowly getting closer to him.
"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Dean asked Mark, whilst Sam shifted to place a calming hand on Harry's arm, which just made him jump into the air in fright.
"I mean, he's dead, you know? I - I don't want to hammer him but, he got better." Mark asked, making all three of them look at him in confusion.
"He got better?" Sam asked him in confusion.
"Well, in high school he was... he was a dick." Mark told them bluntly.
"A dick?" Sam asked him, still sounding confused, which just confused Harry, seeing as he knew exactly what Mark meant, Dudley came to mind.
"Like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together." Mark said with a scowl, indicating that he had been one of those unhappy few. Dean snickered, but Harry just frowned, wondering why anyone would stand still long enough to get their arse cheeks taped together. "Mine included."
"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" Dean asked, having stopped snickering at Mark's glare.
"Well, I don't... Frank had a heart attack, right?"
"Just answer the question, sir." Sam told him firmly, making Harry shiver slightly and then roll his eyes and jump at a nearer hissed laugh.
"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife."
"His wife? So he was married?" Dean asked him and Mark nodded his head, Harry glanced at him and then turned slightly in his seat to look behind him for whoever was trying to talk to him. Sam glanced at Harry curiously, and then turned back to Mark.
"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." Mark told them and Harry glanced at him and then the snake around his neck to see if it was that that was talking to him, but it was asleep. Mark however, noticed his gaze and grinned. "Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for." Mark said, with a nod to the couch behind them. "She smells fear."
"You smell delicious. I know you can understand me." Harry's eyes widened, along with Dean's when a large albino python climbed over the back of the couch. Harry just shifted to look away, refusing to answer and shuddering at the hissed laugh near his ear. "You're sick and you don't have all that long left."
Harry sat in the back of the car, nibbling his lip and absently scratching at his arm, then glancing over at Dean, who was sitting in the front of the car reading.
"Where's Sam?" Harry asked for the hundredth time in the last hour, making Dean exhale in frustration.
"Same place he was five minutes ago." Dean told him through gritted teeth.
"Huh. Dean..." Harry trailed off and stopped scratching when he realised what he was doing. Dean frowned and stopped reading to look over at Harry.
"What? Sam's at Frank's house. He'll be back when he's back. What else do you need to know?" Dean asked with barely concealed frustration.
"The snake said I was going to die. Soon." Harry admitted in an almost inaudible voice, making Dean sit up properly and twist to look at Harry with slight concern, though he'd probably have denied it had anyone commented on it.
"Wait. A snake told you this? Are you taking something?" Dean asked him, making Harry glare at him and then begin to scratch at his arm again.
"No! I can talk to them. I just choose not to most times. It's fucking creepy." Harry muttered under his breath, glancing up through his fringe to see Dean gaping at him.
"You can talk to snakes?"
"Yes."
"That's... awesome!" Dean exclaimed, making Harry jerk up to look at him in shock. "What kind of things do they say?"
"What...? Normal things! What the hell do you think they say?" Harry asked him incredulously, then hissed in frustration and scratched at his arm furiously, before jumping in fright when Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Why... why are you scratching yourself like that?" Dean asked, pulling Harry's arm nearer to him to look at the damage Harry had done to himself. "That..."
"Yeah." Harry agreed, knowing exactly what Dean was going to say. "Like Frank, right?"
"Yep." Dean said with a sigh and then let go of Harry's arm and ran a hand over his face. "So... what the hell is it? We need to find out pretty soon because..."
"Yeah, the snake said I didn't have long. I'm thinking a day. Maybe. At the most." Harry said in a quiet voice, and Dean groaned and then climbed over the back of the seat to land next to Harry, who looked at him in shock. "What-?"
"Okay, here's the deal, we don't like each other, but... that doesn't mean I want you to die, so we're gonna work it out. I'm gonna call Sam and get him back here, you need to try and not scratch your arm." Dean told him, gently pulling his hand away from his arm and keeping his hand around the wrist, whilst he single-handedly dialled Sam's number on his phone.
Harry stared at Dean in shock, not expecting Dean to ever actually be nice to him at all, then wrinkled his nose when he tried to scratch his arm again, but Dean's grasp just tightened on him slightly.
"Sam? Yeah, you need to come back. We've got a lead." Dean said in the phone, glancing at Harry, who winced at being referred to as a lead. "No, just... just come back and we'll explain what we know to you."
Dean then hung up his phone and turned to face Harry, who was nibbling on his lip as he tried to resist the urge to scratch, not that he thought for a second that Dean would let him.
"Okay, so what do we know? Seriously, what the hell can this be?" Dean asked him, turning to sit sideways on the seat to get comfy.
"No idea. I've never seen anything like this. Ever. And I've seen a lot of weird shit and fucked up illnesses." Harry muttered, refusing to admit that he was pouting.
"Right. Would Cas or Ardy know? Would they be able to help you?" Dean asked him and Harry shook his head.
"They might be able to help, but we can't ask them. They're busy doing something else. We shouldn't distract them." Harry told him sulkily and Dean sighed and shook his head.
"You're not scared of them, are you?" Dean asked him in exasperation, getting an insulted look from Harry.
"No! Of course not! Why would I be scared of them? I mean, they're only overly shiny celestial beings that could probably wipe all knowledge of me from everyone's minds should I ever piss them off. Why would I be scared of that?"
"Right." Dean muttered, shifting in the seat to hide his amused grin. "So you're not scared of me or Sam?"
"Not yet." Harry told him looking out of the window and returning to gnawing on his lip. "Those cars are driving awfully close to us, don't you think? Should we move? We should move."
"Sam's meeting us here. We move and he won't know where we are. And I'm pretty damn certain that he's the only one who might have any idea what the hell is wrong with you."
"Huh. You think I'm gonna have hallucinations with this?"
"It's a possibility. Something scared these guys to death, I'm gonna put a bet on hallucinations." Dean admitted with a shrug, still not letting go of Harry's wrist.
"Right. So... can I ask you for a favour?"
"Depends." Dean told him warily, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"I say anything incriminating will you a) forget what I said if I survive this and b) distract Sam from whatever I might be saying. He doesn't need to know what goes on in my fucked up head." Harry muttered with a shake of his head.
"Is it selfish to admit that I'm glad it's not me?"
"A little, but yeah, I'd think the same thing in your position. Who knows what it would make you see." Harry told him with a grimace and Dean sighed and slouched in the seat.
"Honestly? I don't know either. I mean... down there... it just... I dunno. Most of it was spent tied to the rack. Hooks through my skin to hold me there. I can't really remember seeing anyone except..." Dean trailed off and ran his free hand through his hair.
"Except what?" Harry asked him curiously, making Dean sigh and shake his head.
"Why am I even telling you this? I can't even tell Sammy but you I can tell." Dean muttered, shaking his head.
"Maybe that's why you can tell me. You don't give a fuck what I think of you, so you can tell me without worrying if I'm going to judge you, or give you pity. Or if you're going to scar me for life. Chances are none of that is gonna happen." Harry told him, tugging at his arm slightly just to see if Dean was going to let go, but sighing when Dean smirked at him and didn't let go.
"You might have a point there. Huh, you're kinda smart."
"Thanks." Harry said dryly, trying to twist his right hand to scratch at his wrist, but realising that it was pretty futile to try and fold your wrist in half. "I survived six years as a whore, I think I'm pretty intelligent in some things."
"Yeah, that kinda came out wrong." Dean admitted with a grin and a shrug.
"You think? Have you ever come across anything like this at all? I mean, you've been doing this since you were... what? Five?"
"Four, and no. Nothing like this." Dean told him and Harry sighed and slumped in his seat.
"Didn't think I'd be that lucky. Think Sam might have an idea?" Harry asked him quietly, looking at his lap where he was picking at a loose thread with his free hand.
"Hope so." Dean muttered, squeezing Harry's wrist slightly and then looking out the window of the car.
About ten minutes later and Sam finally came back to them, climbing into the front of the car and looking at them both strangely when he saw Dean was sitting in the back with Harry, who was now nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"Er... so what have you two found out?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean's hand around Harry's wrist and then back up at the two with a strange look on his face that neither Harry nor Dean could place.
"Harry's got the... whatever it is." Dean explained, leaning over Harry slightly to tug at his other arm to show Sam the marks.
"Shit. Do we... do you have any idea what it is?" Sam asked looking at the two and then frowning when both visibly sank down.
"No, we were kinda counting on you there, Sammy-Sam." Harry told him, tugging at his arm in Dean's grip and then widening his eyes and grinning.
"Well, maybe we can call Bobby, see what he knows." Sam said with a sigh, neither brother noticing Harry moving his free arm towards his trapped hand and then scratching it against it.
"Harry!" Harry jerked and hissed as he tore into his flesh, and then looked at Dean guiltily. "Dude! Not cool! I'm not holding your damn wrist because I like you! Stop scratching!"
"Harry... Dean's right. You need to stop scratching. You two stay in the back, I'm gonna take us back to the motel. We can look through the books we've got there and also call Bobby, see if he knows." Sam told them, turning round to face the front of the car, and starting it.
Harry began to fidget after they had been driving for about five minutes, making Dean look at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Quit fidgeting!"
"Do we have to go so fast? I mean, this is excessively fast. We could crash and die. Then what would happen? Think of Prescilla, Dean! Think of the car!" Harry hissed, making Dean look at him as though he were crazy, and then look to the front at Sam, who shrugged with a small grin on his face.
"Harry, we're going thirty. It's hardly fast."
"Hardly fast? Oh God, we're going to die. I remember the advert with the dead girl!" Harry hissed at them, making Sam and Dean look at him in confusion.
"Er... advert?"
"Yes! You know, if you hit me at thirty, and so on and so forth! It was back in Britain, but still! Ten miles per hour makes all the difference according to that advert!" Harry told them shrilly, making Dean wince at the tone and then sigh smacking his hand when he went to scratch.
"Dude, just shut up. We're not going to die. Sam is a good driver. Annoyingly good. He knows not to do anything to endanger my baby." Dean added with a narrow eyed look at Sam, who just sighed when he caught Dean's look in the rear view mirror.
"I'm not gonna crash. Will you two just shut up and Harry, stop scratching. Dean might shoot you if you don't. I'll let him."
"Oh God, you don't have a loaded gun on you do you? It could go off! Moody used to go on and on about blowing an arse cheek off. You're going to kill us all." Harry rambled and Dean groaned and slouched in the chair.
"Good one, Sammy. Give him something else to cry about." Dean muttered, getting an abashed look from Sam and then closing his eyes, trying to drown out Harry's paranoid ramblings.
26th October, 2008. Rock Ridge, CO.
Harry fidgeted in the Impala and pouted when he saw the large over mitts that Sam had stopped to buy and Dean had taken great joy gaffa taping to his hands. He glanced over at Dean and then just gaped when he saw that Dean was lying on his back in the front and was pretending to play the drums in time to Eye of the Tiger.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked him, giving a silent whimper when he tried to scratch his arm and failed.
"I'm playin' the drums." Dean told him, not stopping with his drumming, making Harry gape at him for a few more seconds and then shake his head and then raise his arm to his face and nibbled on his arm. "Stop it."
"But it's itchy! And I look like some sort of retarded child with cruel parents." Harry said with a pout, wriggling his fingers in demonstration and then glaring at Dean when he snorted.
"Aw! You look adorable. Maybe we can get Sam to buy you some mitten minders." Dean told him with a grin, then sat up when he saw Sam walking over to them, shoving his phone into his pocket and then opening he car door and handing a box of donuts to Dean.
"I feel like Pokoyo." Harry grumbled, getting a confused look from Sam and Dean, who then exchanged a look and shook their heads after coming to the decision that they really didn't want to know.
"So I just talked to Bobby." Sam told them, whilst Dean made a start on demolishing the donuts.
"Oh? Did he know what's wrong with me?" Harry asked him tentatively, frowning and rubbing at his arm, making Sam sigh and move to stop him.
"I don't think you're going to like it." Sam admitted, which made Dean stop in his eating and look up curiously.
"What?" Dean and Harry asked him at the same time.
"It's ghost sickness."
"Ghost sickness?" Dean asked, whilst Harry just paled and twitched nervously.
"Yeah." Sam said with a nod of his head and a sympathetic look at Harry, who nibbled on his lip and then shrugged.
"I have no idea what ghost sickness is." Harry admitted with a frown, and Dean chuckled and then stopped and frowned.
"Yeah, me either." Dean admitted with a shrug, making Sam sigh and shake his head in exasperation.
"Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes." Sam explained, whilst Harry and Dean just watched him in interest.
"Okay, get to the good stuff." Dean prompted with a wave of his hands, the donut in his hand breaking off and hitting Harry, who yelped and fell to the side. "Oops."
"Dean..." Sam said with a sigh, looking over the seat to see if Harry was actually alright. "The symptoms are, you get anxious..."
"Yep, got that one." Harry agreed with a fervent nod of his head, making Dean snigger, before Sam punched his arm to stop him.
"Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?" Sam asked, and both brothers turned to look at Harry, who was pale and wide-eyed.
"So... now would be a good time to mention that I have a weak heart?" Harry mentioned almost silently, making Sam close his eyes in despair, whilst Dean gaped at him.
"What? Why the hell do you have a weak heart? Does this mean it won't take as long to off you?" Dean said, making Harry gape at him in horror.
"Will it? Am I going to die? Now? Am I going to die now?" Harry asked in a shrill voice, making Sam sigh and glare at Dean slightly before looking at Harry.
"No, you'll have the same time length as everyone else. Why do you have a weak heart?" Sam asked him curiously, and Harry blushed and ducked his head.
"You take Viagra practically everyday for six years, and it will effect your health. Look, this doesn't matter. What I want to know is how the hell I got it in the first place. We haven't seen a ghost in weeks." Harry pointed out as he scrunched up his nose.
"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness. Through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero." Sam explained, and both Harry and Dean nodded their heads in understanding.
"Our very own outbreak monkey." Dean added, making Sam nod, though still look a little exasperated.
"Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee over the weekend Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims." Sam told them and Harry scowled, whilst Dean grinned.
"Were they Gamecocks?"
"Cornjerkers." Sam told him, ignoring Harry, who coughed in shock and began to laugh.
"So, ghost's infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and Harry got it from his corpse?" Dean said and Sam nodded, whilst Harry stuck his tongue out and pouted.
"Right."
"And this is contagious?" Harry asked, making Sam and Dean look at him cautiously, then Sam nodded.
"Yeah."
"So now what, I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Harry asked a little panicky, making Dean snicker, then Harry glared at him.
"More like twenty-four." Sam told him with a wince. Harry sighed and then dropped his head into his mitts.
"Brilliant." Harry mumbled through the mitts and Dean nodded with a sigh.
"Yep."
"Well, why me? Why not one of you two? I mean, Sam! You even got hit with the spleen juice!" Harry exclaimed, and Sam winced again and this time refused to meet Harry's gaze.
"Yeah, um, you see, Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."
"Okay..." Harry said, not actually getting where Sam was going with this. Neither one was exactly anything like what he had done.
"Basically, they were all dicks." Sam told him bluntly and Dean began to chuckle into his hands to try and muffle the sound, whilst Harry gaped at Sam.
"You're saying I'm a dick?"
"No, no, no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favour." Sam explained to him and Harry frowned, seriously not getting what Sam was trying to say.
"But I don't scare people!"
"All we do is scare people!" Sam told him and Harry scowled at him.
"No! You two scare people! I'm just dragged along with you!"
"You don't have to come." Dean pointed out cheerfully, grinning when Harry glared at him, and Sam sighed at the two of them.
"Fine! But you two are still dicks as well!"
"Apparently, I'm not."
"Dean is!" Harry exclaimed, and Sam grinned whilst Dean looked vaguely insulted.
"Yeah, but he wasn't hit with any... juice."
"And you say I'm contagious?" Harry asked him and Sam looked uncomfortable but nodded in agreement.
"Yeah."
"Right." Harry said firmly and then leapt forward and grabbed Dean before he could do anything and kissed him on the mouth forcefully, running his tongue over his lips and then pulling back, smirking at the stunned expressions on both brothers faces. "Let's see if you're a dick, shall we?"
"Harry..."
"Dude!" Dean exclaimed after he had gotten over is shock and was furiously wiping at his mouth. "What the hell!"
"If I'm going down, you're coming with me, got that?" Harry warned him with a glare, which was ruined slightly when he flinched at the sound of a car backfiring.
"I was trying to help! I was actually being nice to you." Dean pointed out and Harry slumped and bit his lip.
"Yeah, I know. Shit. Sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I can... I dunno. Fuck. Sorry." Harry muttered, refusing to look up and making Dean groan.
"Fine. I accept the apology. Let's go find a way to get rid of this damn sickness before I begin to get scared of midgets taking over the world or something." Dean muttered and Sam chuckled when Harry's head shot up and he looked at Dean in horror.
"I knew the freakishly small midgets were going to take over the world! I could see it in their eyes! Oh god, no one over five foot in height is safe!" Harry told them, looking completely horrified at the thought, whilst Dean and Sam just watched in bemused amusement. "You two will be some of the first to go! Look at you! You're like giants! Well... no. I've seen giants, you're not that tall. But still. You're both very tall!"
"Did you get any of that?" Dean asked Sam quietly, whilst Harry just began to mutter under his breath. Sam chuckled and shook his head.
"I think he compared us to giants, but I might be wrong." Sam told him with a shrug. "By the way, why are you waiting out here?"
"Our room's on the fourth floor." Dean told him dryly, and Sam glanced behind him at the hotel and then back at Dean, looking highly confused. "Apparently it's high."
"Right..." Sam said slowly, glancing over at Harry, who was watching them both nervously and nibbling on his lip. "I'll see if I can move us down to the first."
"Thanks." Harry muttered quietly, whilst Dean rolled his eyes and watched Sam walk off, then picked up the box of donuts again. "Want one?"
"You're trying to make me fat, aren't you?" Harry said suspiciously, making Dean pause mid-bite and look at him strangely.
"I thought it made you scared of everything, not paranoid." Dean pointed out and Harry glared at him and then pouted and patted his flat stomach.
"I'm scared I'll get fat. Who wants a fat whore?" Harry wailed and Dean snorted and shook his head, then bit his donut.
"You ain't gonna get fat from one donut." Dean told him through the mouthful of donut and offered over the box.
"Might be poisoned." Harry muttered and Dean choked on the rest of the donut in his mouth and looked at the box in his hands in horror. He then looked back at Harry and shook his head.
"Sammy wouldn't do that." Dean stated confidently, but then placed the donuts on the seat and pushed it away from him, making Harry smirk and look down so Dean didn't see.
Harry fidgeted as he sat on the sofa in the hotel room (which was now on the first floor, which wasn't as high up but was still pretty high.) and then glanced at the clock, which was ticking obnoxiously loud and then over at Dean, who was sitting at a table reading a book. Harry had been reading a book, but once he saw a picture of someone expelling their insides out through their mouth, he panicked and threw the book away, barely missing Dean's head by inches. Dean had then stated that it would be best for everyone if he just sat still and didn't move.
Harry glanced back over at the clock and narrowed his eyes at it, before placing his thumb in his mouth and sucking on it. The only way he had been able to train himself out of chewing at it.
Frowning, he stood up suddenly, making Dean glance over at him curiously before he turned back to the book he was reading. Harry watched him for a second and then walked over to the clock on the wall and reached up to pull it down, then threw it across the room, the crash making Dean jump and turn to gape at him.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Dean asked him incredulously, making Harry glance at him and notice that Dean looked a little... anxious.
"Oh dear..." Harry muttered, walking over to his bag and pulling out a bottle of vodka he had nicked from Dean's bag. "This isn't good."
"What? What's not good?" Dean asked, walking over to where Harry was sitting on the couch, chugging back the vodka. "Isn't that mine?"
"S'mine now." Harry muttered, then completely belied his words by offering over the bottle to Dean, who glanced at it warily and then took it, wiping the top before taking a swig. "You're feeling anxious, aren't you?"
"A little." Dean admitted after a few moments pause.
"Ah. Sorry. Sam's gonna have fun with two of us." Harry said with a wry smile, getting one in return from Dean.
"Yeah. At least my terrified ramblings might distract him from your horrified hallucinations." Dean pointed out, making Harry shudder and shake his head.
"Yeah."
It was fifteen minutes later, when he and Dean were well on their way to forgetting about being scared of anything... and their own names, when Sam walked in and looked at them both for a second and then at the smashed clock on the floor.
"Everything alright?" Sam asked them, moving further into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Oh yeah. Just peachy. Find anything?" Dean asked, waving the bottle at him, then making a disgruntled noise when Harry took it off him and took a deep swig from it.
"Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost." Sam told them with a sigh and then frowned when he noticed that Harry wasn't actually wearing his oven mitts anymore and was picking at the scabs on his arm. "Hey, stop picking at that. How are you feeling?"
"Oh this is brilliant. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be about to die. You know? A brilliant feeling. Of course, Dean will soon be joining me on this one." Harry added with a wince and a glance at Dean, who just look disgruntled. Sam frowned and looked between the two and then narrowed his eyes.
"He's got it as well, hasn't he?"
"Oh yeah, your happy little whore has given me ghost sickness. Told you we should have left him on the side of the road." Dean grumbled and Sam sighed and shook his head.
"Right, then we'll keep looking. Has to be someone." Sam said, before he was interrupted by Harry suddenly choking and coughing, clutching at his throat and looking panicked. "You okay? Harry!"
Harry shook his head and wheezed, then choked and stumbled up off the couch, where he lurched towards the sink and began to gag into it.
"Harry?" Dean called out, glancing at Sam, who had walked over to Harry and was rubbing his back. Sam caught his stare and just shrugged, then turned back to Harry, who was still gagging and then spat out a bloody wood chip.
"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have. You!" Sam exclaimed, looking at Harry, who had picked up the wood chip and was looking at it in horror. Harry turned his horror filled gaze to Sam and pouted.
"I don't want to be a clue!" Harry told him in a slightly high-pitched voice, making Dean snort in amusement and then walk over to look at the wood chip in Harry's hands.
"No! Don't you see? The abrasions, this, the disease, it's trying to tell us something." Sam exclaimed, making Harry look at him and then Dean, who look just as confused as he felt.
"Tell us what? Wood chips?" Dean asked, having taken the wood chip from Harry and was looking at it.
"Exactly."
"You're brother's insane. What if he tries to kill us both in our sleep?" Harry hissed to him, ignoring the insulted look Sam shot him, whilst Dean looked startled and then shot Sam a wary look.
"Guys, I'm not going to kill you. Now, come on."
They arrived at the mill that apparently Frank and his wife had worked at and Harry looked up at the oppressive looking building anxiously, and then traded nervous looks with Dean, whilst Sam got out of the car and walked to the boot.
"I'm not going in there." Harry announced, making Sam sigh and walk back to the back door, open it and then drag Harry out of the car.
"You too, Dean. Get out. You're both coming in there with me. I need back up and you two are all I've got." Sam told them in a no nonsense voice, that made both Harry and Dean sigh, but follow him to the back of the car. Dean took a deep swig of whiskey and then handed the bottle to Harry, who also took a deep swig.
"Let's do this. It is a little spooky, isn't it?" Dean asked, looking back at the building and then Sam, who sighed and handed Harry a gun. Harry looked at it in shock and then held it back out for Sam.
"I'm not taking that! It could go off! Did you not listen to me about Moody? The torch, give me the torch! I'll man the torch!" Harry told him, grabbing the torch out the boot of the car and handing the gun over to Dean, who stared at it, startled.
"I don't want this!" Dean exclaimed, and Sam sighed and looked skywards as though asking for patience.
"He won't listen. He's a prick." Harry informed him, darting to stand behind Sam when Dean lunged for the torch in his hands.
"You two are feeding off of one another's fears. Dean's sickness seems to be progressing quicker than yours did, Harry." Sam commented, making them both look at him in horror.
"I'm going to die sooner?" Dean asked in an embarrassingly high voice and Sam grinned and then shook his head.
"I didn't say that, just... you two are making the other more jumpy. Look, we don't have time for this. Just, Dean, the gun will be fine. Harry... just stop making Dean more scared than he already is. Come on." Sam said with a sigh and then led the two very jumpy men into the looming building, mentally praying for patience.
Continue
Chapter Eight A
25th October, 2008. Rock Ridge, CO.
Harry walked in behind Sam and Dean into the morgue, all wearing the required suits that pretend FBI agents were supposed to wear and all trying to look like they belonged there. Well, Harry actually just looked bored and Sam and Dean had had enough practice in faking it as FBI agents. Harry silently wished that Ardifiel was there instead of having to leave on Super Secret Angel Business.
"Agent's Tyler, Perry, Tufnel, meet Frank O'Brien." The coroner said to them as he opened the body bag and allowed the three 'agents' to have a look at the body.
"He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam asked, looking at the body and then up at the coroner.
"Three days ago."
"But O'Brien was forty four years old and, according to this, a marathon runner." Sam stated in disbelief, whilst Dean and Harry stayed silent and let Sam deal with the coroner, seeing as either one of them was bound to say something inappropriate.
"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security." The coroner told them and Harry nodded his head.
"Smart man. I've got that as well. Never know when someone's just gonna come along and -"
"Thank you, Agent Tufnel! I don't think we need you to finish that, thanks." Sam said suddenly, stopping whatever Harry was about to tell the poor coroner.
"But Frank kicked it here. Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?" Dean asked, trying not to grin at Harry's outraged expression at having been interrupted.
"Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?" The Coroner asked, and Harry gave him a stunned look.
"We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy." Dean told him and the Coroner looked at him in confusion.
"What autopsy?"
"The one you're gonna do." Dean told him firmly, making Harry bite his lip to stop his laughter. If only so that Dean didn't realise that he had amused Harry. The coroner sighed and then moved to the body and cut it open, looking up and catching the somewhat disturbed looks on Sam and Dean's faces and the bored one on Harry's.
"First dead body?" The coroner asked the two next to Harry, who snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Far from it." Dean told him dryly and Harry muttered under his breath about understatements.
"Oh good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe. Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?" The coroner asked, and Harry picked up a large pair of... well he thought they were shears but assumed they would cut through ribs, and the coroner didn't correct him when he handed them over.
Harry glanced over when Sam took a deep, unsteady breath as the man began to cut into the ribs. Harry then smirked when Sam visibly tried to keep himself from cringing.
"Is that from a wedding ring? I didn't think Frank was married." Dean commented, noticing a pale mark where a wedding ring had been.
"Ain't my department." The coroner told him as he continued to cut into the ribs, whilst Harry just took great joy in Sam's discomfort.
"Any idea how he got these?" Harry commented suddenly, holding up the man's arm that had scratches all down them.
"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground." The coroner told them, making Harry frown as he was pretty sure they looked self-inflicted. He'd seen them plenty of times before. "Huh."
"What?" Sam asked, having apparently finally settled him stomach slightly.
"I - I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries." The coroner said in a slightly distracted voice, then cut out the heart, making a snapping noise that made Dean lurch slightly like he was going to be sick. Harry snickered slightly from beside him and then smiled innocently when Dean turned to glare at him. "Heart looks pretty damn healthy. Hold that a second, would you?" The man held out the heart, making Sam and Dean take a subtle step back, leaving only Harry standing there to hold the heart, which he did with a shrug. The coroner then returned to cutting something else in the body.
Much to the clear amusement of Harry and Dean, the coroner hit a vein in the body and hit Sam's face with blood. "Oh, sorry. Spleen juice." Harry coughed to hide his laugh, whilst Dean just stood back and smirked.
Later that day, they were all sitting in front of the deputy's desk in the sheriffs station, waiting for the sheriff to come out and talk to them.
"I'm bored." Harry muttered under his breath, making Sam glare at him, having still not forgiven him for laughing at the blood incident. "Oh let it go, I was forced to hold a heart."
"Yeah, and you've got it all off your face. Quit bein' a baby." Dean muttered back at Sam with a grin on his face, which just widened when Sam turned his glare to him.
"Hell's bells, Linus, have you seen my - who are they?" The man who Harry assumed was the sheriff, given he had just walked out of the sheriff's office, asked, looking at the three sitting in the room curiously.
"Federal agents. I, uh..." Deputy Linus trailed off, noticing the shocked and slightly disbelieving look on his face.
"And you kept them waiting?"
"You - you said not to disturb." Linus said incredulously, staring at the back of the sheriff when he turned to look at the three 'federal agents'.
"Come on back, fellas." The sheriff said to them with a smile, motioning for them to follow him. They all stood up and followed behind him, only for him to stop them just before they entered the room. "Shoes off." He told them with a smile, making Harry gape at him incredulously.
"You have got to be kidding me." Harry muttered, toeing off his shoes and kicking them next to Sam's. Still muttering under his breath as he followed the other two into the office.
"Al Britton. Good to meet you." Sheriff Britton said, shaking them hands and then moving to the other side of his desk.
"You too." Sam told him, and then took a seat when the Sheriff motioned for them to do so, rolling his eyes when he saw Harry and Dean briefly scuffle over who got the other chair, Harry being the one to win.
Sheriff Britton then took out some alcohol gel and squirted quite a bit on his hands, before he began to rigorously slather it in. Dean and Harry caught one another's eyes and traded weird looks, whilst Sam just shook his head at the two.
"Okay. So, what can I do for uncle Sam?" Sheriff Britton asked, making Harry look at Sam and then at Dean in confusion, Dean just smirked at him and shook his head to tell him not to say anything.
"Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body." Sam said, whilst Dean tried to silently tell Harry to keep quiet and give him the seat.
"They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks." Sheriff Britton said and both Harry and Dean began to snicker then stopped with contrite looks on their faces when Sheriff Britton gave them both a stern look. "That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was... he was a good man."
"Yeah. Big heart." Dean said with a smirk at Harry, who scowled at him.
"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?" Sam said, throwing a warning look at the two beside him.
"Oh hell yeah. Real jumpy." Britton told them with a frown on his face.
"You know what scared him?" Sam asked, whilst Harry was watching the man closely with a frown, wondering why he kept twitching.
"No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest." Britton told them and Harry glanced at Sam and then back at the Sheriff when he started and poured more gel onto his hands. Harry glanced at Dean, and both of them traded similar looks of utter bafflement.
"So why'd the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?" Britton asked them as he began to slather more gel on his hands.
"No, no. It's probably nothing." Dean said, whilst Harry nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, just a heart attack probably." Harry commented after Dean, making Sam shoot them both a suspicious look seeing as they appeared to be in agreement with one another for once.
"No way that was a heart attack." Dean stated once they had left the Sheriff's office and were walking back to the Impala.
"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours." Sam said and Harry frowned in confusion.
"Something scared them to death? That can actually happen?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Apparently so." Dean muttered with a shrug.
"Alright, so what can do that?" Sam asked them both and Harry shrugged then looked at Dean to see if he actually knew.
"What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra?"
"Back to the capybara again. What is your beef with them? They just eat goats." Harry muttered, making Dean gape at him and then turn to Sam, who just sighed and shook his head. "Ooh! Grims! They kill people when you see them. Don't know why, but they do."
"Grims?" Dean asked him with a confused frown on his face, getting a wide smile from Harry for actually knowing something that a Winchester didn't.
"Yeah! They're these big black dogs that when you see them, you die. You know. 'Oh, a big black dog. Argh! Heart attack.' Die." Harry said, clutching at his chest when he said 'argh'. Dean just stared at him whilst Sam sniggered.
"Okay, right, so then we all work together to make a list of what can kill someone by scaring them to death. Then we start crossing things off." Sam told them, getting nods of agreement form the other two, though Harry did wrinkle his nose slightly.
"Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked and Sam scrunched his face in thought for a second, whilst Harry just shrugged.
"Uh, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins."
"Okay, so lets -" Dean was interrupted by Harry grabbing their arms and stopping them.
"Wait, wait, wait." Harry said, making Sam and Dean glance at one another in confusion and then back at Harry, who was looking past them at something.
"What?" Sam asked finally when it looked like Harry was neither going to let them go or explain why he was clinging to them.
"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." Harry told them, making Sam and Dean look around and then see a group of teenagers talking near the Impala. "They could have knives. Happens all the time. Teens with knives."
"Er..."
"Dude! They don't have knives." Dean exclaimed, making Harry raise an eyebrow at him.
"How do you know? They could have a whole arsenal on them and we wouldn't know until we had more holes in us than a sieve. We shouldn't risk it. Let's walk this way." Harry told them, letting go of their arms and crossing the street, whilst Sam and Dean just stared after him, completely perplexed.
They all sat on the couch in Mark Hutchin's house, having just told the man their names, showing him their badges.
"Tyler and Perry, just like Aerosmith? Shame you didn't get someone instead of Tufnel." He said with a laugh, getting an indignant glare from Harry.
"Right with ya on that one." Dean muttered, and Sam coughed before Harry could retort.
"Yeah, small world. So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?" Sam asked, whilst Harry twitched and looked around him, eyeing the tanks of lizards warily and inching closer to Sam.
"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains." Mark told them, looking at Harry for a second before turning his attention back to Sam.
"Hmm. Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" Sam asked, whilst Dean looked behind Sam at Harry, who was nibbling his lip and frowning.
"Oh totally. He was freaking out." Mark told them with a nod, and Sam and Dean both glanced to the side to see that Harry looked pretty freaked out himself.
"What's up with him?" Dean muttered to Sam, making Harry jump and look at him, completely spooked.
"Do you know, er... d-do you know what scared him?" Harry asked him in a quiet voice, eyes darting to look at Dean suspiciously, then back to Mark. He ignored the hissing voice he could hear behind him.
"Well, yeah, witches."
"Witches?" Sam asked him, making Harry pale, whilst Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Like...?"
"Well, Wizard of Oz was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him." Mark told them earnestly.
"Anything else scare him?" Sam asked him and Mark chuckled and shook his head.
"Everything else scared him. Al-Quieda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff." Mark told them and Harry glanced at him warily, still ignoring the hissing that was slowly getting closer to him.
"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Dean asked Mark, whilst Sam shifted to place a calming hand on Harry's arm, which just made him jump into the air in fright.
"I mean, he's dead, you know? I - I don't want to hammer him but, he got better." Mark asked, making all three of them look at him in confusion.
"He got better?" Sam asked him in confusion.
"Well, in high school he was... he was a dick." Mark told them bluntly.
"A dick?" Sam asked him, still sounding confused, which just confused Harry, seeing as he knew exactly what Mark meant, Dudley came to mind.
"Like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together." Mark said with a scowl, indicating that he had been one of those unhappy few. Dean snickered, but Harry just frowned, wondering why anyone would stand still long enough to get their arse cheeks taped together. "Mine included."
"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" Dean asked, having stopped snickering at Mark's glare.
"Well, I don't... Frank had a heart attack, right?"
"Just answer the question, sir." Sam told him firmly, making Harry shiver slightly and then roll his eyes and jump at a nearer hissed laugh.
"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife."
"His wife? So he was married?" Dean asked him and Mark nodded his head, Harry glanced at him and then turned slightly in his seat to look behind him for whoever was trying to talk to him. Sam glanced at Harry curiously, and then turned back to Mark.
"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it." Mark told them and Harry glanced at him and then the snake around his neck to see if it was that that was talking to him, but it was asleep. Mark however, noticed his gaze and grinned. "Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for." Mark said, with a nod to the couch behind them. "She smells fear."
"You smell delicious. I know you can understand me." Harry's eyes widened, along with Dean's when a large albino python climbed over the back of the couch. Harry just shifted to look away, refusing to answer and shuddering at the hissed laugh near his ear. "You're sick and you don't have all that long left."
Harry sat in the back of the car, nibbling his lip and absently scratching at his arm, then glancing over at Dean, who was sitting in the front of the car reading.
"Where's Sam?" Harry asked for the hundredth time in the last hour, making Dean exhale in frustration.
"Same place he was five minutes ago." Dean told him through gritted teeth.
"Huh. Dean..." Harry trailed off and stopped scratching when he realised what he was doing. Dean frowned and stopped reading to look over at Harry.
"What? Sam's at Frank's house. He'll be back when he's back. What else do you need to know?" Dean asked with barely concealed frustration.
"The snake said I was going to die. Soon." Harry admitted in an almost inaudible voice, making Dean sit up properly and twist to look at Harry with slight concern, though he'd probably have denied it had anyone commented on it.
"Wait. A snake told you this? Are you taking something?" Dean asked him, making Harry glare at him and then begin to scratch at his arm again.
"No! I can talk to them. I just choose not to most times. It's fucking creepy." Harry muttered under his breath, glancing up through his fringe to see Dean gaping at him.
"You can talk to snakes?"
"Yes."
"That's... awesome!" Dean exclaimed, making Harry jerk up to look at him in shock. "What kind of things do they say?"
"What...? Normal things! What the hell do you think they say?" Harry asked him incredulously, then hissed in frustration and scratched at his arm furiously, before jumping in fright when Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Why... why are you scratching yourself like that?" Dean asked, pulling Harry's arm nearer to him to look at the damage Harry had done to himself. "That..."
"Yeah." Harry agreed, knowing exactly what Dean was going to say. "Like Frank, right?"
"Yep." Dean said with a sigh and then let go of Harry's arm and ran a hand over his face. "So... what the hell is it? We need to find out pretty soon because..."
"Yeah, the snake said I didn't have long. I'm thinking a day. Maybe. At the most." Harry said in a quiet voice, and Dean groaned and then climbed over the back of the seat to land next to Harry, who looked at him in shock. "What-?"
"Okay, here's the deal, we don't like each other, but... that doesn't mean I want you to die, so we're gonna work it out. I'm gonna call Sam and get him back here, you need to try and not scratch your arm." Dean told him, gently pulling his hand away from his arm and keeping his hand around the wrist, whilst he single-handedly dialled Sam's number on his phone.
Harry stared at Dean in shock, not expecting Dean to ever actually be nice to him at all, then wrinkled his nose when he tried to scratch his arm again, but Dean's grasp just tightened on him slightly.
"Sam? Yeah, you need to come back. We've got a lead." Dean said in the phone, glancing at Harry, who winced at being referred to as a lead. "No, just... just come back and we'll explain what we know to you."
Dean then hung up his phone and turned to face Harry, who was nibbling on his lip as he tried to resist the urge to scratch, not that he thought for a second that Dean would let him.
"Okay, so what do we know? Seriously, what the hell can this be?" Dean asked him, turning to sit sideways on the seat to get comfy.
"No idea. I've never seen anything like this. Ever. And I've seen a lot of weird shit and fucked up illnesses." Harry muttered, refusing to admit that he was pouting.
"Right. Would Cas or Ardy know? Would they be able to help you?" Dean asked him and Harry shook his head.
"They might be able to help, but we can't ask them. They're busy doing something else. We shouldn't distract them." Harry told him sulkily and Dean sighed and shook his head.
"You're not scared of them, are you?" Dean asked him in exasperation, getting an insulted look from Harry.
"No! Of course not! Why would I be scared of them? I mean, they're only overly shiny celestial beings that could probably wipe all knowledge of me from everyone's minds should I ever piss them off. Why would I be scared of that?"
"Right." Dean muttered, shifting in the seat to hide his amused grin. "So you're not scared of me or Sam?"
"Not yet." Harry told him looking out of the window and returning to gnawing on his lip. "Those cars are driving awfully close to us, don't you think? Should we move? We should move."
"Sam's meeting us here. We move and he won't know where we are. And I'm pretty damn certain that he's the only one who might have any idea what the hell is wrong with you."
"Huh. You think I'm gonna have hallucinations with this?"
"It's a possibility. Something scared these guys to death, I'm gonna put a bet on hallucinations." Dean admitted with a shrug, still not letting go of Harry's wrist.
"Right. So... can I ask you for a favour?"
"Depends." Dean told him warily, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"I say anything incriminating will you a) forget what I said if I survive this and b) distract Sam from whatever I might be saying. He doesn't need to know what goes on in my fucked up head." Harry muttered with a shake of his head.
"Is it selfish to admit that I'm glad it's not me?"
"A little, but yeah, I'd think the same thing in your position. Who knows what it would make you see." Harry told him with a grimace and Dean sighed and slouched in the seat.
"Honestly? I don't know either. I mean... down there... it just... I dunno. Most of it was spent tied to the rack. Hooks through my skin to hold me there. I can't really remember seeing anyone except..." Dean trailed off and ran his free hand through his hair.
"Except what?" Harry asked him curiously, making Dean sigh and shake his head.
"Why am I even telling you this? I can't even tell Sammy but you I can tell." Dean muttered, shaking his head.
"Maybe that's why you can tell me. You don't give a fuck what I think of you, so you can tell me without worrying if I'm going to judge you, or give you pity. Or if you're going to scar me for life. Chances are none of that is gonna happen." Harry told him, tugging at his arm slightly just to see if Dean was going to let go, but sighing when Dean smirked at him and didn't let go.
"You might have a point there. Huh, you're kinda smart."
"Thanks." Harry said dryly, trying to twist his right hand to scratch at his wrist, but realising that it was pretty futile to try and fold your wrist in half. "I survived six years as a whore, I think I'm pretty intelligent in some things."
"Yeah, that kinda came out wrong." Dean admitted with a grin and a shrug.
"You think? Have you ever come across anything like this at all? I mean, you've been doing this since you were... what? Five?"
"Four, and no. Nothing like this." Dean told him and Harry sighed and slumped in his seat.
"Didn't think I'd be that lucky. Think Sam might have an idea?" Harry asked him quietly, looking at his lap where he was picking at a loose thread with his free hand.
"Hope so." Dean muttered, squeezing Harry's wrist slightly and then looking out the window of the car.
About ten minutes later and Sam finally came back to them, climbing into the front of the car and looking at them both strangely when he saw Dean was sitting in the back with Harry, who was now nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"Er... so what have you two found out?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean's hand around Harry's wrist and then back up at the two with a strange look on his face that neither Harry nor Dean could place.
"Harry's got the... whatever it is." Dean explained, leaning over Harry slightly to tug at his other arm to show Sam the marks.
"Shit. Do we... do you have any idea what it is?" Sam asked looking at the two and then frowning when both visibly sank down.
"No, we were kinda counting on you there, Sammy-Sam." Harry told him, tugging at his arm in Dean's grip and then widening his eyes and grinning.
"Well, maybe we can call Bobby, see what he knows." Sam said with a sigh, neither brother noticing Harry moving his free arm towards his trapped hand and then scratching it against it.
"Harry!" Harry jerked and hissed as he tore into his flesh, and then looked at Dean guiltily. "Dude! Not cool! I'm not holding your damn wrist because I like you! Stop scratching!"
"Harry... Dean's right. You need to stop scratching. You two stay in the back, I'm gonna take us back to the motel. We can look through the books we've got there and also call Bobby, see if he knows." Sam told them, turning round to face the front of the car, and starting it.
Harry began to fidget after they had been driving for about five minutes, making Dean look at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Quit fidgeting!"
"Do we have to go so fast? I mean, this is excessively fast. We could crash and die. Then what would happen? Think of Prescilla, Dean! Think of the car!" Harry hissed, making Dean look at him as though he were crazy, and then look to the front at Sam, who shrugged with a small grin on his face.
"Harry, we're going thirty. It's hardly fast."
"Hardly fast? Oh God, we're going to die. I remember the advert with the dead girl!" Harry hissed at them, making Sam and Dean look at him in confusion.
"Er... advert?"
"Yes! You know, if you hit me at thirty, and so on and so forth! It was back in Britain, but still! Ten miles per hour makes all the difference according to that advert!" Harry told them shrilly, making Dean wince at the tone and then sigh smacking his hand when he went to scratch.
"Dude, just shut up. We're not going to die. Sam is a good driver. Annoyingly good. He knows not to do anything to endanger my baby." Dean added with a narrow eyed look at Sam, who just sighed when he caught Dean's look in the rear view mirror.
"I'm not gonna crash. Will you two just shut up and Harry, stop scratching. Dean might shoot you if you don't. I'll let him."
"Oh God, you don't have a loaded gun on you do you? It could go off! Moody used to go on and on about blowing an arse cheek off. You're going to kill us all." Harry rambled and Dean groaned and slouched in the chair.
"Good one, Sammy. Give him something else to cry about." Dean muttered, getting an abashed look from Sam and then closing his eyes, trying to drown out Harry's paranoid ramblings.
26th October, 2008. Rock Ridge, CO.
Harry fidgeted in the Impala and pouted when he saw the large over mitts that Sam had stopped to buy and Dean had taken great joy gaffa taping to his hands. He glanced over at Dean and then just gaped when he saw that Dean was lying on his back in the front and was pretending to play the drums in time to Eye of the Tiger.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked him, giving a silent whimper when he tried to scratch his arm and failed.
"I'm playin' the drums." Dean told him, not stopping with his drumming, making Harry gape at him for a few more seconds and then shake his head and then raise his arm to his face and nibbled on his arm. "Stop it."
"But it's itchy! And I look like some sort of retarded child with cruel parents." Harry said with a pout, wriggling his fingers in demonstration and then glaring at Dean when he snorted.
"Aw! You look adorable. Maybe we can get Sam to buy you some mitten minders." Dean told him with a grin, then sat up when he saw Sam walking over to them, shoving his phone into his pocket and then opening he car door and handing a box of donuts to Dean.
"I feel like Pokoyo." Harry grumbled, getting a confused look from Sam and Dean, who then exchanged a look and shook their heads after coming to the decision that they really didn't want to know.
"So I just talked to Bobby." Sam told them, whilst Dean made a start on demolishing the donuts.
"Oh? Did he know what's wrong with me?" Harry asked him tentatively, frowning and rubbing at his arm, making Sam sigh and move to stop him.
"I don't think you're going to like it." Sam admitted, which made Dean stop in his eating and look up curiously.
"What?" Dean and Harry asked him at the same time.
"It's ghost sickness."
"Ghost sickness?" Dean asked, whilst Harry just paled and twitched nervously.
"Yeah." Sam said with a nod of his head and a sympathetic look at Harry, who nibbled on his lip and then shrugged.
"I have no idea what ghost sickness is." Harry admitted with a frown, and Dean chuckled and then stopped and frowned.
"Yeah, me either." Dean admitted with a shrug, making Sam sigh and shake his head in exasperation.
"Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes." Sam explained, whilst Harry and Dean just watched him in interest.
"Okay, get to the good stuff." Dean prompted with a wave of his hands, the donut in his hand breaking off and hitting Harry, who yelped and fell to the side. "Oops."
"Dean..." Sam said with a sigh, looking over the seat to see if Harry was actually alright. "The symptoms are, you get anxious..."
"Yep, got that one." Harry agreed with a fervent nod of his head, making Dean snigger, before Sam punched his arm to stop him.
"Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?" Sam asked, and both brothers turned to look at Harry, who was pale and wide-eyed.
"So... now would be a good time to mention that I have a weak heart?" Harry mentioned almost silently, making Sam close his eyes in despair, whilst Dean gaped at him.
"What? Why the hell do you have a weak heart? Does this mean it won't take as long to off you?" Dean said, making Harry gape at him in horror.
"Will it? Am I going to die? Now? Am I going to die now?" Harry asked in a shrill voice, making Sam sigh and glare at Dean slightly before looking at Harry.
"No, you'll have the same time length as everyone else. Why do you have a weak heart?" Sam asked him curiously, and Harry blushed and ducked his head.
"You take Viagra practically everyday for six years, and it will effect your health. Look, this doesn't matter. What I want to know is how the hell I got it in the first place. We haven't seen a ghost in weeks." Harry pointed out as he scrunched up his nose.
"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness. Through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero." Sam explained, and both Harry and Dean nodded their heads in understanding.
"Our very own outbreak monkey." Dean added, making Sam nod, though still look a little exasperated.
"Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee over the weekend Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims." Sam told them and Harry scowled, whilst Dean grinned.
"Were they Gamecocks?"
"Cornjerkers." Sam told him, ignoring Harry, who coughed in shock and began to laugh.
"So, ghost's infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and Harry got it from his corpse?" Dean said and Sam nodded, whilst Harry stuck his tongue out and pouted.
"Right."
"And this is contagious?" Harry asked, making Sam and Dean look at him cautiously, then Sam nodded.
"Yeah."
"So now what, I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Harry asked a little panicky, making Dean snicker, then Harry glared at him.
"More like twenty-four." Sam told him with a wince. Harry sighed and then dropped his head into his mitts.
"Brilliant." Harry mumbled through the mitts and Dean nodded with a sigh.
"Yep."
"Well, why me? Why not one of you two? I mean, Sam! You even got hit with the spleen juice!" Harry exclaimed, and Sam winced again and this time refused to meet Harry's gaze.
"Yeah, um, you see, Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."
"Okay..." Harry said, not actually getting where Sam was going with this. Neither one was exactly anything like what he had done.
"Basically, they were all dicks." Sam told him bluntly and Dean began to chuckle into his hands to try and muffle the sound, whilst Harry gaped at Sam.
"You're saying I'm a dick?"
"No, no, no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favour." Sam explained to him and Harry frowned, seriously not getting what Sam was trying to say.
"But I don't scare people!"
"All we do is scare people!" Sam told him and Harry scowled at him.
"No! You two scare people! I'm just dragged along with you!"
"You don't have to come." Dean pointed out cheerfully, grinning when Harry glared at him, and Sam sighed at the two of them.
"Fine! But you two are still dicks as well!"
"Apparently, I'm not."
"Dean is!" Harry exclaimed, and Sam grinned whilst Dean looked vaguely insulted.
"Yeah, but he wasn't hit with any... juice."
"And you say I'm contagious?" Harry asked him and Sam looked uncomfortable but nodded in agreement.
"Yeah."
"Right." Harry said firmly and then leapt forward and grabbed Dean before he could do anything and kissed him on the mouth forcefully, running his tongue over his lips and then pulling back, smirking at the stunned expressions on both brothers faces. "Let's see if you're a dick, shall we?"
"Harry..."
"Dude!" Dean exclaimed after he had gotten over is shock and was furiously wiping at his mouth. "What the hell!"
"If I'm going down, you're coming with me, got that?" Harry warned him with a glare, which was ruined slightly when he flinched at the sound of a car backfiring.
"I was trying to help! I was actually being nice to you." Dean pointed out and Harry slumped and bit his lip.
"Yeah, I know. Shit. Sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I can... I dunno. Fuck. Sorry." Harry muttered, refusing to look up and making Dean groan.
"Fine. I accept the apology. Let's go find a way to get rid of this damn sickness before I begin to get scared of midgets taking over the world or something." Dean muttered and Sam chuckled when Harry's head shot up and he looked at Dean in horror.
"I knew the freakishly small midgets were going to take over the world! I could see it in their eyes! Oh god, no one over five foot in height is safe!" Harry told them, looking completely horrified at the thought, whilst Dean and Sam just watched in bemused amusement. "You two will be some of the first to go! Look at you! You're like giants! Well... no. I've seen giants, you're not that tall. But still. You're both very tall!"
"Did you get any of that?" Dean asked Sam quietly, whilst Harry just began to mutter under his breath. Sam chuckled and shook his head.
"I think he compared us to giants, but I might be wrong." Sam told him with a shrug. "By the way, why are you waiting out here?"
"Our room's on the fourth floor." Dean told him dryly, and Sam glanced behind him at the hotel and then back at Dean, looking highly confused. "Apparently it's high."
"Right..." Sam said slowly, glancing over at Harry, who was watching them both nervously and nibbling on his lip. "I'll see if I can move us down to the first."
"Thanks." Harry muttered quietly, whilst Dean rolled his eyes and watched Sam walk off, then picked up the box of donuts again. "Want one?"
"You're trying to make me fat, aren't you?" Harry said suspiciously, making Dean pause mid-bite and look at him strangely.
"I thought it made you scared of everything, not paranoid." Dean pointed out and Harry glared at him and then pouted and patted his flat stomach.
"I'm scared I'll get fat. Who wants a fat whore?" Harry wailed and Dean snorted and shook his head, then bit his donut.
"You ain't gonna get fat from one donut." Dean told him through the mouthful of donut and offered over the box.
"Might be poisoned." Harry muttered and Dean choked on the rest of the donut in his mouth and looked at the box in his hands in horror. He then looked back at Harry and shook his head.
"Sammy wouldn't do that." Dean stated confidently, but then placed the donuts on the seat and pushed it away from him, making Harry smirk and look down so Dean didn't see.
Harry fidgeted as he sat on the sofa in the hotel room (which was now on the first floor, which wasn't as high up but was still pretty high.) and then glanced at the clock, which was ticking obnoxiously loud and then over at Dean, who was sitting at a table reading a book. Harry had been reading a book, but once he saw a picture of someone expelling their insides out through their mouth, he panicked and threw the book away, barely missing Dean's head by inches. Dean had then stated that it would be best for everyone if he just sat still and didn't move.
Harry glanced back over at the clock and narrowed his eyes at it, before placing his thumb in his mouth and sucking on it. The only way he had been able to train himself out of chewing at it.
Frowning, he stood up suddenly, making Dean glance over at him curiously before he turned back to the book he was reading. Harry watched him for a second and then walked over to the clock on the wall and reached up to pull it down, then threw it across the room, the crash making Dean jump and turn to gape at him.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Dean asked him incredulously, making Harry glance at him and notice that Dean looked a little... anxious.
"Oh dear..." Harry muttered, walking over to his bag and pulling out a bottle of vodka he had nicked from Dean's bag. "This isn't good."
"What? What's not good?" Dean asked, walking over to where Harry was sitting on the couch, chugging back the vodka. "Isn't that mine?"
"S'mine now." Harry muttered, then completely belied his words by offering over the bottle to Dean, who glanced at it warily and then took it, wiping the top before taking a swig. "You're feeling anxious, aren't you?"
"A little." Dean admitted after a few moments pause.
"Ah. Sorry. Sam's gonna have fun with two of us." Harry said with a wry smile, getting one in return from Dean.
"Yeah. At least my terrified ramblings might distract him from your horrified hallucinations." Dean pointed out, making Harry shudder and shake his head.
"Yeah."
It was fifteen minutes later, when he and Dean were well on their way to forgetting about being scared of anything... and their own names, when Sam walked in and looked at them both for a second and then at the smashed clock on the floor.
"Everything alright?" Sam asked them, moving further into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Oh yeah. Just peachy. Find anything?" Dean asked, waving the bottle at him, then making a disgruntled noise when Harry took it off him and took a deep swig from it.
"Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost." Sam told them with a sigh and then frowned when he noticed that Harry wasn't actually wearing his oven mitts anymore and was picking at the scabs on his arm. "Hey, stop picking at that. How are you feeling?"
"Oh this is brilliant. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be about to die. You know? A brilliant feeling. Of course, Dean will soon be joining me on this one." Harry added with a wince and a glance at Dean, who just look disgruntled. Sam frowned and looked between the two and then narrowed his eyes.
"He's got it as well, hasn't he?"
"Oh yeah, your happy little whore has given me ghost sickness. Told you we should have left him on the side of the road." Dean grumbled and Sam sighed and shook his head.
"Right, then we'll keep looking. Has to be someone." Sam said, before he was interrupted by Harry suddenly choking and coughing, clutching at his throat and looking panicked. "You okay? Harry!"
Harry shook his head and wheezed, then choked and stumbled up off the couch, where he lurched towards the sink and began to gag into it.
"Harry?" Dean called out, glancing at Sam, who had walked over to Harry and was rubbing his back. Sam caught his stare and just shrugged, then turned back to Harry, who was still gagging and then spat out a bloody wood chip.
"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have. You!" Sam exclaimed, looking at Harry, who had picked up the wood chip and was looking at it in horror. Harry turned his horror filled gaze to Sam and pouted.
"I don't want to be a clue!" Harry told him in a slightly high-pitched voice, making Dean snort in amusement and then walk over to look at the wood chip in Harry's hands.
"No! Don't you see? The abrasions, this, the disease, it's trying to tell us something." Sam exclaimed, making Harry look at him and then Dean, who look just as confused as he felt.
"Tell us what? Wood chips?" Dean asked, having taken the wood chip from Harry and was looking at it.
"Exactly."
"You're brother's insane. What if he tries to kill us both in our sleep?" Harry hissed to him, ignoring the insulted look Sam shot him, whilst Dean looked startled and then shot Sam a wary look.
"Guys, I'm not going to kill you. Now, come on."
They arrived at the mill that apparently Frank and his wife had worked at and Harry looked up at the oppressive looking building anxiously, and then traded nervous looks with Dean, whilst Sam got out of the car and walked to the boot.
"I'm not going in there." Harry announced, making Sam sigh and walk back to the back door, open it and then drag Harry out of the car.
"You too, Dean. Get out. You're both coming in there with me. I need back up and you two are all I've got." Sam told them in a no nonsense voice, that made both Harry and Dean sigh, but follow him to the back of the car. Dean took a deep swig of whiskey and then handed the bottle to Harry, who also took a deep swig.
"Let's do this. It is a little spooky, isn't it?" Dean asked, looking back at the building and then Sam, who sighed and handed Harry a gun. Harry looked at it in shock and then held it back out for Sam.
"I'm not taking that! It could go off! Did you not listen to me about Moody? The torch, give me the torch! I'll man the torch!" Harry told him, grabbing the torch out the boot of the car and handing the gun over to Dean, who stared at it, startled.
"I don't want this!" Dean exclaimed, and Sam sighed and looked skywards as though asking for patience.
"He won't listen. He's a prick." Harry informed him, darting to stand behind Sam when Dean lunged for the torch in his hands.
"You two are feeding off of one another's fears. Dean's sickness seems to be progressing quicker than yours did, Harry." Sam commented, making them both look at him in horror.
"I'm going to die sooner?" Dean asked in an embarrassingly high voice and Sam grinned and then shook his head.
"I didn't say that, just... you two are making the other more jumpy. Look, we don't have time for this. Just, Dean, the gun will be fine. Harry... just stop making Dean more scared than he already is. Come on." Sam said with a sigh and then led the two very jumpy men into the looming building, mentally praying for patience.
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