last01standing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
last01standing) wrote2008-12-04 02:38 pm
last01standing) wrote2008-12-04 02:38 pm
Entry tags:
SPN/DA crossover--World Behind Windows [6/11, gen, Logan, Dean]
Title: World Behind Windows
Rating: PG-13ish
Disclaimer: I can lay no claims on DA, SPN or Life on Mars
SPOILERS: DA pilot, SPN through season four, plot premise taken from Life on Mars (UK)
Summary: Logan gets shot. That’s when things get strange.
Notes:For those of you who know LoM, it might be of interest that Logan is Sam Tyler, Dean is Gene Hunt, Bobby is Hyde, Lillith is the Test Card Girl and Sam Winchester’s disappearance has something to do with this whole mess.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
World Behind Windows
Six
“What?” Logan echoes. He can’t have heard this right.
“We burn this place to the ground,” Winchester repeats. “Torch it. All of it. I’ve got lighter fluid in the trunk.”
“You can’t,” Logan sputters. “You can’t! There are people here and they’re dead. You can’t just burn them up. What about the evidence? Someone’s got to be held responsible for this.”
“They will be,” Winchester says, trudging back toward the car. “Oh, you can bet I’ll make them bleed, but this doesn’t need to be found.”
“It needs to be found. There’s going to be someone to blame for this. The world has a right to know!”
Winchester tugs the trunk open and hauls out two cartons of lighter fluid. He shoves one into Logan’s arms. “The world doesn’t want to know. If they did they would have figured it out a long time ago. Look, we can’t do anything here and if anyone bothers to look, they’re going to find some of our prints here. I don’t know about you but I have bad luck with law enforcement. I’m not getting pinned for this one.”
Dean Winchester is a serial killer. Dean Winchester is a wanted man in forty-two states. Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam are presumed dead.
Only that’s not true. Not here.
“You’re not going to let your brother get pinned for this one,” Logan asserts.
He’s hit mark with that. He can see the statement hit Winchester with the physicality of a punch. Winchester turns around slowly and says, “Sam’s not here.”
“But he was,” Logan guesses. “You think he was here. You think he did it.”
“Look,” Winchester says. “If there’s something you want to say just go ahead and say it.”
Logan knows what he wants to say. Knows he should get it over with and accuse Sam Winchester of this catastrophe but Dean is looking at him like he’s about to break and Logan can’t bring himself to deliver that final crushing blow. He breaks eye contact, sniffles and unscrews that cap on the lighter fluid. “I can’t believing I’m actually doing this.”
“Damn straight, we’re doing this,” Winchester mumbles, stalking into the distance.
Twenty miles later, the entire town is on fire. Logan watches it from the hood of the Impala as Winchester shoves the lighter fluid back into the trunk without a word. Logan feels cold despite the heat. He wraps his jacket tightly around him, closes his eyes and listens.
He hears nothing but the crackle of the flames. No voice from the future. No medical personnel trying to keep him alive. Nothing. He’s stuck in 2009 with Dean Winchester for company and that’s not changing anytime soon. “We shouldn’t have done that,” Logan says. “There could have been evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Winchester retorts. “What could they possibly find. They weren’t going to look at the sulfur. They were going to look at the murders and they were going to get it wrong.”
Logan shakes his head, takes a deep breath of the biting cold air. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your brother?”
Winchester slams the trunk shut so loudly that Logan jumps off the hood of the car. His movements are rough, almost violent. He doesn’t stop until he’s inches away from Logan’s face. They’re the same height but Winchester seems almost infinitely bigger. “Are you going to tell me why Bobby sent someone who’s never even seen a ghost to do a hunter’s job?”
Logan knows the surprise is written all over his face, the guilt. He’s been lying through his teeth since he got here. He just never expected Winchester to call him on it. Never expected it was even possible. This is all happening in his head. There is no reason he shouldn’t be able to keep up the facade.
But he can’t. Winchester can see through his lies.
“When did you figure it out?” Logan asks.
“Knew you were lying the first time I saw eyes on you,” Winchester growls. “Didn’t say anything because I wanted to see what you’d do. Still can’t figure out what you’re after for the life of me.”
He breaks eye contact, circling the car to the driver’s side. “You coming or what?”
Logan falters. He realizes that he’d been expecting Winchester to leave him right here in the middle of Wyoming with the smoldering remains of a slaughtered town. But he hasn’t. Nothing about Dean Winchester is what he’d expected.
He gets in the car.
***
They’re twenty miles out of town when Logan sees the first helicopter skimming over the treetops. Winchester spots it too, lurking in the rearview mirror. He glances right, toward Logan and asks, “Friends of yours?”
Logan doesn’t bother responding to the dig. “They must have seen the smoke.”
“Bullshit,” Winchester hisses. There’s a tension wracked through his body. He is coiled like a snake ready to attack. “We only left fifteen minutes ago. There’s no way in hell they respond that fast. No one moves that fast. No one.”
Logan looks back over his shoulder at the helicopter scanning the trees. “That may be so, but that’s not changing the fact that there are helicopters flying in and we’re fleeing a major crime scene.”
“Unbelievable,” Winchester hisses. “Freaking unbelievable.”
He turns his attention back to the road only to see a dark shape dart into their path.
“Watch out!” Logan screams.
Winchester slams on the breaks. The Impala skids on the slick road traction completely lost. For a single wild moment, Logan thinks this might be how it ends. Not on the operating table in 2019, but right here in 2009 on a Wyoming back road with the most famous serial killer of the century at his side.
But the wheels finally grip pavement and the car lurches to a spot mere feet in front of the offending object. Logan blinks. “It’s a kid.”
Winchester puts the car into park and for a second, they stare at the road. The kid is frozen like a deer in headlights, unmoving as the snow drifts down around him. He can’t be more then ten years old. He has a military haircut and no jacket. His feet are bare against the snow.
He is wearing a brief hospital gown and that sets off alarm bells in Logan’s head. A kid in a hospital gown. This has to be the real world bleeding through. Why else would the kid be here? He looks to Winchester, voice far more steady then he feels. “Do you see that?”
“Of course I see it,” Winchester snaps. “What the hell is a kid doing out here? It’s got to be twenty degrees outside.”
Logan blinks. The kid still hasn’t moved. “What do we do?”
Winchester hesitates for a spilt second and then pushes the door own and steps out into the road. The kid steps back as if expecting an attack. “Hey,” Winchester says softly. “Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. You shouldn’t be out here.”
Logan can hear the blades of the helicopter not beating off in the distance. This is important. Somehow, this is all important.
“My name is Dean,” Winchester takes another step toward the kid. The kid flinches but doesn’t back up anymore. “My friend in the car is Logan. How about you take a ride with us and we can get you back to your parents.”
The kid nods slowly.
“What’s your name?” Winchester asks.
“Zack,” the boy says just a little belligerently. Like maybe he thinks Winchester might argue with him. This is familiar. There is a little boy in the middle of the woods on a snowy night in 2009. He has heard this before. He knows this. They are a few miles outside of Gillette, Wyoming. There is a connection here lying just out of reach.
“Come on in, Zack,” Winchester says, pulling open the back door. “Where do you need to go?”
“Away, sir,” the boys says, curling up in the back seat. Winchester frowns and takes off his jacket, handing it to the shivering boy.
Only it’s not shivers, no it’s something different. Seizures. Logan realizes but he’s never seen a child handle seizures like this. He’s never heard of anyone who could. There’s something strange about this child, something almost inhuman.
And then he sees the barcode.
The connections come tumbling rapid-fire into his head. Max sitting before him as he tried to blackmail her into helping the cause. A secret government in the woods outside Wyoming. Seizures and tryptophan. Genetic engineering. facility Children with barcodes on the back of their neck. Manticore.
He should have realized it straight away but there’s something about this place. He’s not making connections like he should. His world, the real world is drifting away from him and he wants it back.
“Logan,” Winchester says under his breath. “What are we supposed to do with him?”
What are you supposed to do with a genetically engineered super soldier?
“Just drive,” Logan says.
They drive in silence. In the back seat Zack is silent, surveying the situation. Logan has no doubt that this child could kill them both. Could kill Logan and snap Winchester’s neck before they even have a chance to react.
But he doesn’t.
Winchester talks. He tries to make a halting conversation with the boy. Asks him about friends. Tries to ask him about family. Tries to ask him where he’s going. The kid either answers with one word or lets long silences lapse because he doesn’t know where he’s heading or how to get there. It’s like his entire world is confined to a five-mile stretch of woods.
They run into a road block after a few more miles. There are flashing light alternating red and blue on the tree tops. A road block. In the back seat, Zack curls up into Winchester’s jacket like he’s trying to disappear. Logan turns to the driver’s seat. “Dean, we can’t let them stop us.”
“You’re telling me,” Winchester hisses. “They’re going to finger us for the town.”
That isn’t what he means, but Logan doesn’t have a way to explain it that won’t tip the already skittish Zack into outright panic. Dean glances in the back seat, frowns and then reaches to the glove compartment and pulls out six different copies of the registration before settling on one in the back of the stack. Logan starts to voice his disapproval but thinks better of it.
It doesn’t look like a federal cop at the checkpoint. Winchester knows just what facade to plaster on. He rolls the window down, and hands over a license and registration. “Is there a problem, officer?” he asks.
The officer is a short man with a round face and dark hair. He looks half asleep, probably annoyed at Manticore pulling their people in this late. “Told us there was a group of escaped convicts. I’m supposed to hold every car.”
Logan is holding his breath. Winchester has his poker face on. “You’re sure?” he says. “My kid’s out cold in the backseat. I just want to get him back home before his mother gets worried.”
“You’re kid, huh?” the officer says. He glances into the back seat where Zack is curled up in Winchester’s coat. Not moving. “What’s his name?”
“Michael,” Winchester answers smooth as anything. “Me and my brother here took him to a game. Took a lot out of the poor guy.”
The officer shakes his head and pats the side of the car with a beefy hand. “Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr. Hanover. No reason I should be keeping you guys. You get your son back home.”
Winchester takes his license back with a tight smile. “Thank you, officer.”
He rolls up the window and drives slowly away from the road block. The car is oppressively silent save the light sound of Zack’s breathing. “That was weird,” Winchester says finally. “I thought they were here about the town but escapees? There’s nothing here but woods!”
Logan watches Zack in the rearview mirror. The boy is still shaking slightly, but it seems to have lessened out of the cold. “I think we need to get the hell out of this state.”
“Agreed,” Winchester says and punches the accelerator.
They don’t stop driving until they’re in Utah and the light snow falling had turned into a dreary drizzle. They stop at a gas station and while Winchester fills up, Logan buys a bottle of milk and a couple greasy hot dogs. Zack accepts the milk gratefully and inhales the hot dogs. His tremors are lessening, but that seems to make him more suspicious rather then less.
Logan wants to say something to this boy, wants to ask where Max is or how they escaped but he can’t. One word out of the ordinary and the kid would attack. They’re going to need to get Zack some clothes if this is going to work. They’re going to need to change the way they work.
Winchester strides over, grinning broadly. “Hey, hot dogs!” He grabs one of the remaining ones and winks at Zack. “How you doing, kiddo?”
Zack shrugs but doesn’t say anything. His eyes are alive though, calculating. Winchester nods. “Quiet guy, huh? I’m thinking we need to stop for the night but we can try and find you a way home.”
He steers the boy back into the car. They stop at the cheapest motel in town and ask for two doubles and a cot. Winchester instructs Zack to take the first shower and offers one of his own shirts for sleepwear. With the water running Winchester, creeps over to Logan and says, “I’m going to want your story.”
Logan steels himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to want yours.”
Dean lets out a frustrated growl. “You can’t do this job with someone you don’t trust and you sure as hell shouldn’t be doing this job green.”
“I’m a fast learner,” Logan says. “We can deal with this later.”
“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to dump your scrawny ass or not,” Winchester hisses.
The bathroom door opens and Zack walks out, hair sopping wet. Dean’s shirt hanging down to his knees. Winchester clenches his jaw and glares at Logan for a moment before softening his demeanor and leaning down to address the kid. “I don’t know about you, but I need some sleep. We can get you back home tomorrow.”
Zack just looks at him with dark, calculating eyes. Logan presses a palm to his forehead. He is exhausted. The bone deep tired he doesn’t think should be possible in a dream world.
The nighttime ritual is a bizarre ordeal. Winchester switches on the TV looks guilty and switches to cartoons. Logan curls up in bed, stares at the ceiling and strains to hear the hospital over the grating laugh of Sponge Bob Square Pants.
And then the girl starts sing, “Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes and Cale falls down.”
Logan sits upright in bed. The cartoons have disappeared from the television. Instead there is a surgery playing and Logan recognizes his own body on the operating table, unconscious and pale.
“I don’t understand why you don’t like it here,” the girl says. “There are such lovely playthings.”
Logan looks to his side. “I’m dreaming,” he says. “You’re not real.”
“Dreaming within dreaming,” the girl says, “ashes to ashes. Blood like water. Isn’t it better here?”
“I’m going crazy,” Logan says. “The town, Dean, Manticore. It’s not real.”
“You don’t know that,” the girl says. “You don’t know any of it. Sam’s not real. Dean’s not real. Zack’s not real.” She inches closer to him, her pale, innocent face inches from his own. “You’re not real, Logan. I’m real thought. I’m the only real thing left.”
“I want to go home,” Logan hisses.
“You are home,” the girl says. “There is no such thing as 2019.”
“This isn’t real,” Logan says, pressing his hands to his ears. “You’re not real.”
On the television monitor a doctor says, “Making the next incision.”
The girl laughs, moving in front of the television monitor. “Crazy, crazy, Logan Cale,” she sing-songs, “shot in the back went straight to Hell. Tries to wake up but knows he’ll fail. Down goes crazy Logan Cale.”
“Shut up,” Logan whispers.
“Down goes crazy Logan Cale!”
“Shut up!” Logan roars.
He opens his eyes. There is sun streaking through the window. Winchester wakes up a second later, withdrawing a knife from under his pillow. Logan’s breathing is coming in ragged gasps. Winchester lowers the knife. “Dude, what the hell?”
The window is open. A slight breeze is blowing through curtains. Logan looks toward the cot where the boy is supposed to be sound asleep.
But Zack is gone.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
As you all may or may not have noticed, there are 11 chapters planned for this fic. Next one should be up within the next week or so.
| 7 |
Rating: PG-13ish
Disclaimer: I can lay no claims on DA, SPN or Life on Mars
SPOILERS: DA pilot, SPN through season four, plot premise taken from Life on Mars (UK)
Summary: Logan gets shot. That’s when things get strange.
Notes:For those of you who know LoM, it might be of interest that Logan is Sam Tyler, Dean is Gene Hunt, Bobby is Hyde, Lillith is the Test Card Girl and Sam Winchester’s disappearance has something to do with this whole mess.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
Six
“What?” Logan echoes. He can’t have heard this right.
“We burn this place to the ground,” Winchester repeats. “Torch it. All of it. I’ve got lighter fluid in the trunk.”
“You can’t,” Logan sputters. “You can’t! There are people here and they’re dead. You can’t just burn them up. What about the evidence? Someone’s got to be held responsible for this.”
“They will be,” Winchester says, trudging back toward the car. “Oh, you can bet I’ll make them bleed, but this doesn’t need to be found.”
“It needs to be found. There’s going to be someone to blame for this. The world has a right to know!”
Winchester tugs the trunk open and hauls out two cartons of lighter fluid. He shoves one into Logan’s arms. “The world doesn’t want to know. If they did they would have figured it out a long time ago. Look, we can’t do anything here and if anyone bothers to look, they’re going to find some of our prints here. I don’t know about you but I have bad luck with law enforcement. I’m not getting pinned for this one.”
Dean Winchester is a serial killer. Dean Winchester is a wanted man in forty-two states. Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam are presumed dead.
Only that’s not true. Not here.
“You’re not going to let your brother get pinned for this one,” Logan asserts.
He’s hit mark with that. He can see the statement hit Winchester with the physicality of a punch. Winchester turns around slowly and says, “Sam’s not here.”
“But he was,” Logan guesses. “You think he was here. You think he did it.”
“Look,” Winchester says. “If there’s something you want to say just go ahead and say it.”
Logan knows what he wants to say. Knows he should get it over with and accuse Sam Winchester of this catastrophe but Dean is looking at him like he’s about to break and Logan can’t bring himself to deliver that final crushing blow. He breaks eye contact, sniffles and unscrews that cap on the lighter fluid. “I can’t believing I’m actually doing this.”
“Damn straight, we’re doing this,” Winchester mumbles, stalking into the distance.
Twenty miles later, the entire town is on fire. Logan watches it from the hood of the Impala as Winchester shoves the lighter fluid back into the trunk without a word. Logan feels cold despite the heat. He wraps his jacket tightly around him, closes his eyes and listens.
He hears nothing but the crackle of the flames. No voice from the future. No medical personnel trying to keep him alive. Nothing. He’s stuck in 2009 with Dean Winchester for company and that’s not changing anytime soon. “We shouldn’t have done that,” Logan says. “There could have been evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Winchester retorts. “What could they possibly find. They weren’t going to look at the sulfur. They were going to look at the murders and they were going to get it wrong.”
Logan shakes his head, takes a deep breath of the biting cold air. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your brother?”
Winchester slams the trunk shut so loudly that Logan jumps off the hood of the car. His movements are rough, almost violent. He doesn’t stop until he’s inches away from Logan’s face. They’re the same height but Winchester seems almost infinitely bigger. “Are you going to tell me why Bobby sent someone who’s never even seen a ghost to do a hunter’s job?”
Logan knows the surprise is written all over his face, the guilt. He’s been lying through his teeth since he got here. He just never expected Winchester to call him on it. Never expected it was even possible. This is all happening in his head. There is no reason he shouldn’t be able to keep up the facade.
But he can’t. Winchester can see through his lies.
“When did you figure it out?” Logan asks.
“Knew you were lying the first time I saw eyes on you,” Winchester growls. “Didn’t say anything because I wanted to see what you’d do. Still can’t figure out what you’re after for the life of me.”
He breaks eye contact, circling the car to the driver’s side. “You coming or what?”
Logan falters. He realizes that he’d been expecting Winchester to leave him right here in the middle of Wyoming with the smoldering remains of a slaughtered town. But he hasn’t. Nothing about Dean Winchester is what he’d expected.
He gets in the car.
They’re twenty miles out of town when Logan sees the first helicopter skimming over the treetops. Winchester spots it too, lurking in the rearview mirror. He glances right, toward Logan and asks, “Friends of yours?”
Logan doesn’t bother responding to the dig. “They must have seen the smoke.”
“Bullshit,” Winchester hisses. There’s a tension wracked through his body. He is coiled like a snake ready to attack. “We only left fifteen minutes ago. There’s no way in hell they respond that fast. No one moves that fast. No one.”
Logan looks back over his shoulder at the helicopter scanning the trees. “That may be so, but that’s not changing the fact that there are helicopters flying in and we’re fleeing a major crime scene.”
“Unbelievable,” Winchester hisses. “Freaking unbelievable.”
He turns his attention back to the road only to see a dark shape dart into their path.
“Watch out!” Logan screams.
Winchester slams on the breaks. The Impala skids on the slick road traction completely lost. For a single wild moment, Logan thinks this might be how it ends. Not on the operating table in 2019, but right here in 2009 on a Wyoming back road with the most famous serial killer of the century at his side.
But the wheels finally grip pavement and the car lurches to a spot mere feet in front of the offending object. Logan blinks. “It’s a kid.”
Winchester puts the car into park and for a second, they stare at the road. The kid is frozen like a deer in headlights, unmoving as the snow drifts down around him. He can’t be more then ten years old. He has a military haircut and no jacket. His feet are bare against the snow.
He is wearing a brief hospital gown and that sets off alarm bells in Logan’s head. A kid in a hospital gown. This has to be the real world bleeding through. Why else would the kid be here? He looks to Winchester, voice far more steady then he feels. “Do you see that?”
“Of course I see it,” Winchester snaps. “What the hell is a kid doing out here? It’s got to be twenty degrees outside.”
Logan blinks. The kid still hasn’t moved. “What do we do?”
Winchester hesitates for a spilt second and then pushes the door own and steps out into the road. The kid steps back as if expecting an attack. “Hey,” Winchester says softly. “Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. You shouldn’t be out here.”
Logan can hear the blades of the helicopter not beating off in the distance. This is important. Somehow, this is all important.
“My name is Dean,” Winchester takes another step toward the kid. The kid flinches but doesn’t back up anymore. “My friend in the car is Logan. How about you take a ride with us and we can get you back to your parents.”
The kid nods slowly.
“What’s your name?” Winchester asks.
“Zack,” the boy says just a little belligerently. Like maybe he thinks Winchester might argue with him. This is familiar. There is a little boy in the middle of the woods on a snowy night in 2009. He has heard this before. He knows this. They are a few miles outside of Gillette, Wyoming. There is a connection here lying just out of reach.
“Come on in, Zack,” Winchester says, pulling open the back door. “Where do you need to go?”
“Away, sir,” the boys says, curling up in the back seat. Winchester frowns and takes off his jacket, handing it to the shivering boy.
Only it’s not shivers, no it’s something different. Seizures. Logan realizes but he’s never seen a child handle seizures like this. He’s never heard of anyone who could. There’s something strange about this child, something almost inhuman.
And then he sees the barcode.
The connections come tumbling rapid-fire into his head. Max sitting before him as he tried to blackmail her into helping the cause. A secret government in the woods outside Wyoming. Seizures and tryptophan. Genetic engineering. facility Children with barcodes on the back of their neck. Manticore.
He should have realized it straight away but there’s something about this place. He’s not making connections like he should. His world, the real world is drifting away from him and he wants it back.
“Logan,” Winchester says under his breath. “What are we supposed to do with him?”
What are you supposed to do with a genetically engineered super soldier?
“Just drive,” Logan says.
They drive in silence. In the back seat Zack is silent, surveying the situation. Logan has no doubt that this child could kill them both. Could kill Logan and snap Winchester’s neck before they even have a chance to react.
But he doesn’t.
Winchester talks. He tries to make a halting conversation with the boy. Asks him about friends. Tries to ask him about family. Tries to ask him where he’s going. The kid either answers with one word or lets long silences lapse because he doesn’t know where he’s heading or how to get there. It’s like his entire world is confined to a five-mile stretch of woods.
They run into a road block after a few more miles. There are flashing light alternating red and blue on the tree tops. A road block. In the back seat, Zack curls up into Winchester’s jacket like he’s trying to disappear. Logan turns to the driver’s seat. “Dean, we can’t let them stop us.”
“You’re telling me,” Winchester hisses. “They’re going to finger us for the town.”
That isn’t what he means, but Logan doesn’t have a way to explain it that won’t tip the already skittish Zack into outright panic. Dean glances in the back seat, frowns and then reaches to the glove compartment and pulls out six different copies of the registration before settling on one in the back of the stack. Logan starts to voice his disapproval but thinks better of it.
It doesn’t look like a federal cop at the checkpoint. Winchester knows just what facade to plaster on. He rolls the window down, and hands over a license and registration. “Is there a problem, officer?” he asks.
The officer is a short man with a round face and dark hair. He looks half asleep, probably annoyed at Manticore pulling their people in this late. “Told us there was a group of escaped convicts. I’m supposed to hold every car.”
Logan is holding his breath. Winchester has his poker face on. “You’re sure?” he says. “My kid’s out cold in the backseat. I just want to get him back home before his mother gets worried.”
“You’re kid, huh?” the officer says. He glances into the back seat where Zack is curled up in Winchester’s coat. Not moving. “What’s his name?”
“Michael,” Winchester answers smooth as anything. “Me and my brother here took him to a game. Took a lot out of the poor guy.”
The officer shakes his head and pats the side of the car with a beefy hand. “Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr. Hanover. No reason I should be keeping you guys. You get your son back home.”
Winchester takes his license back with a tight smile. “Thank you, officer.”
He rolls up the window and drives slowly away from the road block. The car is oppressively silent save the light sound of Zack’s breathing. “That was weird,” Winchester says finally. “I thought they were here about the town but escapees? There’s nothing here but woods!”
Logan watches Zack in the rearview mirror. The boy is still shaking slightly, but it seems to have lessened out of the cold. “I think we need to get the hell out of this state.”
“Agreed,” Winchester says and punches the accelerator.
They don’t stop driving until they’re in Utah and the light snow falling had turned into a dreary drizzle. They stop at a gas station and while Winchester fills up, Logan buys a bottle of milk and a couple greasy hot dogs. Zack accepts the milk gratefully and inhales the hot dogs. His tremors are lessening, but that seems to make him more suspicious rather then less.
Logan wants to say something to this boy, wants to ask where Max is or how they escaped but he can’t. One word out of the ordinary and the kid would attack. They’re going to need to get Zack some clothes if this is going to work. They’re going to need to change the way they work.
Winchester strides over, grinning broadly. “Hey, hot dogs!” He grabs one of the remaining ones and winks at Zack. “How you doing, kiddo?”
Zack shrugs but doesn’t say anything. His eyes are alive though, calculating. Winchester nods. “Quiet guy, huh? I’m thinking we need to stop for the night but we can try and find you a way home.”
He steers the boy back into the car. They stop at the cheapest motel in town and ask for two doubles and a cot. Winchester instructs Zack to take the first shower and offers one of his own shirts for sleepwear. With the water running Winchester, creeps over to Logan and says, “I’m going to want your story.”
Logan steels himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to want yours.”
Dean lets out a frustrated growl. “You can’t do this job with someone you don’t trust and you sure as hell shouldn’t be doing this job green.”
“I’m a fast learner,” Logan says. “We can deal with this later.”
“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to dump your scrawny ass or not,” Winchester hisses.
The bathroom door opens and Zack walks out, hair sopping wet. Dean’s shirt hanging down to his knees. Winchester clenches his jaw and glares at Logan for a moment before softening his demeanor and leaning down to address the kid. “I don’t know about you, but I need some sleep. We can get you back home tomorrow.”
Zack just looks at him with dark, calculating eyes. Logan presses a palm to his forehead. He is exhausted. The bone deep tired he doesn’t think should be possible in a dream world.
The nighttime ritual is a bizarre ordeal. Winchester switches on the TV looks guilty and switches to cartoons. Logan curls up in bed, stares at the ceiling and strains to hear the hospital over the grating laugh of Sponge Bob Square Pants.
And then the girl starts sing, “Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes and Cale falls down.”
Logan sits upright in bed. The cartoons have disappeared from the television. Instead there is a surgery playing and Logan recognizes his own body on the operating table, unconscious and pale.
“I don’t understand why you don’t like it here,” the girl says. “There are such lovely playthings.”
Logan looks to his side. “I’m dreaming,” he says. “You’re not real.”
“Dreaming within dreaming,” the girl says, “ashes to ashes. Blood like water. Isn’t it better here?”
“I’m going crazy,” Logan says. “The town, Dean, Manticore. It’s not real.”
“You don’t know that,” the girl says. “You don’t know any of it. Sam’s not real. Dean’s not real. Zack’s not real.” She inches closer to him, her pale, innocent face inches from his own. “You’re not real, Logan. I’m real thought. I’m the only real thing left.”
“I want to go home,” Logan hisses.
“You are home,” the girl says. “There is no such thing as 2019.”
“This isn’t real,” Logan says, pressing his hands to his ears. “You’re not real.”
On the television monitor a doctor says, “Making the next incision.”
The girl laughs, moving in front of the television monitor. “Crazy, crazy, Logan Cale,” she sing-songs, “shot in the back went straight to Hell. Tries to wake up but knows he’ll fail. Down goes crazy Logan Cale.”
“Shut up,” Logan whispers.
“Down goes crazy Logan Cale!”
“Shut up!” Logan roars.
He opens his eyes. There is sun streaking through the window. Winchester wakes up a second later, withdrawing a knife from under his pillow. Logan’s breathing is coming in ragged gasps. Winchester lowers the knife. “Dude, what the hell?”
The window is open. A slight breeze is blowing through curtains. Logan looks toward the cot where the boy is supposed to be sound asleep.
But Zack is gone.
As you all may or may not have noticed, there are 11 chapters planned for this fic. Next one should be up within the next week or so.
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And that is all I have time to say, just started finals. But is enjoying this so far.
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Does that mean they are related? ;-)
I want more... pretty please with cherry on top?
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(Anonymous) 2008-12-07 11:12 am (UTC)(link)There were a few mistakes in the punctuation, but that was only with the placement of commas, so no biggie.
And I really think you’ve got the Dean dialogue perfectly matched. It’s like I can hear him speaking, especially with lines like:
“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to dump your scrawny ass or not,” Winchester hisses.
and
“They will be,” Winchester says, trudging back toward the car. “Oh, you can bet I’ll make them bleed, but this doesn’t need to be found.”
Oh, all of it really. Good. Good. Good.
I’ll quit now while I’m still ahead and don’t sound too gushy. But seriously, I can’t wait for the next part.
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There should be more soonish. I'm about to hit exam time so things are a little slower on the fic front.
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I LOVE WRITING CREEPY CHILDREN. I never realized just how much until I started seeing LOM, but it's so very much fun!
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I'm glad you're enjoying the ride. I've got big plans for this story. There's even a plot outline. It's bizzare for me. I'm working on the next part as we speak. =)
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