Just a little note!!
So, yay, welcome to "Lies", Part II of the Blood Series!!
For those of you just tuning in, reading part one (titled "Blood") isn't entirely mandatory, but I would highly recommend it!
And for my loyal readers who have been greatly anticipating the start of "Lies", here it is! Just for you! Enjoy!!
"Don't be afraid, Scott. You can tell me anything, you know that. Whatever you say won't leave this room," the therapist coaxed the young, nervous man sitting across from him.
Scott hesitated, and then opened up. This is what he was paying Dr. George Waxler for, anyway. "It started a little over a year ago—migraines, at fire. Then I found…I could do stuff."
Dr. Waxler didn't understand. "What do you mean, 'do stuff'?"
"I have this ability," Scott chose his words carefully. "When I touch something…I can electrocute it if I want."
The doctor seemed interested. "How do you know?"
Scott paused, then explained, "I did it to the neighbor's cat. Its insides fried up like a hamburger."
Dr. Waxler looked down and scribbled something down on a pad of paper. Scott recognized the look he wore.
"You don't believe me," he stated/
"I believe if you believe it." Scott had heard this before. It's psychology code for "You're crazy, but I'm just going to go with it to make you feel better."
Scott hated hearing it. He extended his left hand. "Then here. Let's shake on it."
Dr. Waxler stared at his hand, but he did not take it. Instead he looked up at Scott and continued with the questioning. "Why would you wanna kill the neighbor's cat, Scott?"
Sighing, Scott replied, "I don't He wants me to, and he doesn't want me to stop there."
"Who?"
"The yellow-eyed man. HE comes to me in my dreams—tells me to do things, awful things. I tell him no. No, I don't want to."
"What else does the yellow-eyed man tell you?"
Scott paused, unsure. Finally, he answered, the words difficult for him. He has plans for me.
"What kind of plans?"
Scott sighed in frustration. He knew that Dr. Waxler would be difficult to convince, but he didn't expect to be regarding as certifiably insane. As if a prescription fro anxiety pills was really going to make his problems go away.
Something interrupted Scott's thoughts. He could have sworn he just saw someone pass by in the shadows. Paranoia quickened his heartbeat. "Hello?"
But there's only silence. Scott shock his head, telling him self he was being ridiculous. He reached his car, pulling out his keys. However, when he goes to unlock his door, there's a man's reflection in the window, and it's not his.
Scott turned to face his follower, but he's met with a sharp pain in his abdomen. He'd been stabbed with a knife. His assailant jerked the knife upwards, instantly ending all of Scott's problems. Blood seeped out of his mouth as leaned back against the car and slid to the ground.
"What are you talking about?" Sam's voice cracked slightly with emotion, tears forming in his eyes.
"Right before Dad died…he told me something. He told me something about you."
The suspense was driving Sam crazy. "What? Dean, what did he tell you?"
Dean just looked at Sam for a long time, contemplating what to say. Sam wasn't going to let it go until Dean told him, and Dean was out of excuses. He had to tell Sammy the truth.
The question was, could he handle the truth? Dean was about to find out.
"He said that he…he wanted me to watch out fro you. Take care of you."
"He told you that a million times." Sam was getting aggravated. Why couldn't Dean just come out and say it?
"No, this time was different. He said that I had to…save you."
"Save me from what?"
Dean sighed. He knew there was no sense in trying to prolong the inevitable. Then again, Dean was never one for sense. "He just said that I had to save you. Nothing else mattered. And if I couldn't, I'd…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"You'd what, Dean?" Sam demanded.
"I'd have to kill you." Sam looked at Dean, confused. Dean worked to fight the tears threatening him. "He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."
"Kill me?" Sam asked, tears close to falling. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know."
"I mean, he must've had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go dark-side or something?! What else did he say, Dean?"
"Nothing. That's it, I swear." Sam's bombardment of questions overwhelmed Dean. He wanted nothing more to have this all done with. He wished that Sam had never gotten that stupid vision.
"How could you not have told me this?!" Sam yelled.
"Because he was dead and he begged me not to." Dean may not have raised his voice like Sam, but it was filled with just as much emotion, if not more.
"Who cares? Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"
That got Dean. His volume matched his younger brother's as he spoke. "You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth! And I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!"
Sam turned away from Dean, pausing before he continued. Finally, he said, "We've just gotta figure out what's going on then, what the hell all this means."
Dean's voice returned to normal, but the tension was still there. "We do? I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low, you know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way, I could make sure…"
"What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?"
"I never said that." Dean hated hearing Sam talk like that.
"Jeez, if you're not careful, you will have to waste me one day, Dean."
Dean really didn't like hearing Sam talk like that. "I never said that! Damn it, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control! You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, and I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"
Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "Forget."
"Sam, please, man." He grabbed Sam's shoulder. "Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay, I'm begging you here. Please…please."
Sam hesitated, and then nodded his head in agreement. He could be patient, he could wait. For a time.
Sam sighed, no longer able to deal with the tension thick in the air. He muttered something about getting some fresh air and left the room. Dean didn't bother stopping him or asking any questions, he knew that Sam needed his space.
Once outside, Sam took a big breath of the cool night air. It felt good in his lungs. He looked around the parking lot of the Velvet Inn Motel, his eyes finally settling on Kara's car. He turned around and glanced at her room. Through what little view the curtained window allowed, Sam could see Kara drinking from a bottle of beer.
He turned went over to Dean's Impala, took a crowbar out from the backseat and went over to Kara's Camaro. Using the crowbar to open the door, Sam climbed in and jumpstarted the engine. Kara wouldn't need her car tonight anyway.
Kara sighed, holding her head in her hands. She was in a motel room for an entire five minutes before getting a pack of beer to help drown her thoughts. She'd done enough thinking for the day and only wanted to drink in solitude.
However, there was only so much solitude a buzzed girl could handle. She knew Dean and Sam were in the room next to her. She'd rather hear about their problems than focus on her own. Kara stood, finishing the last chug of her drink before leaving the room.
She knocked quite loudly, twice, before Dean answered the door. He looked at her quizzically but let her in the room. "Where's Sam?"
"Uh, he went out for a little while."
"Huh." Kara turned to Dean, who, in turn, was drinking his own beer, sitting at the small table. This struck Kara as funny, although it didn't surprise her.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked, taking another sip.
"Seems like that's the only thing you can do right." The words were much, much harsher than she had intended, but the alcohol in her system didn't really give a damn.
Dean, on the other hand, did. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, you know what I mean," Kara brushed it off.
"No, I don't know what you mean, Kara. Why don't you explain it to me?" Dean's voice dripped venom. He'd been through enough that day, he didn't need to deal with Kara's attitude.
Kara sighed in aggravation. "Just saying, drowning out your problems with some cheap beer? Classic."
Dean set his beer down, glaring at Kara angrily. Kara laughed a little more. "It's nothing to have an attitude about."
He scoffed, standing up. "I'm the one with an attitude?"
Kara raised an eyebrow at Dean. "I'm not the one getting all huffy and puffy, about to blow this place down."
Dean stepped over towards Kara, but she had turned away, looking over the room. "If I'm the big, bad wolf, which little piggy are you?"
That strangely hurt Kara. Something so petty, that she normally would have laughed at, got her blood boiling. She spun around and glared at Dean, who stood just a few yards away. She took a few angry steps forward. "You know what, Dean? I don't even know why I came over here. I guess I thought that for once in your life you wouldn't be such an ass." Seriousness crept into her voice. "Especially after everything."
"Oh, do you mean you lying about your freaky visions, or you being immune to some demonic virus?"
Kara's eyes flashed. Without thought and seemingly without permission, her hand reached up and connected with head. There was a loud crack that seemed to reverberate against the walls. Dean's face was already starting to turn red from the slap.
Believing she'd had her final say, Kara turned to leave. However, Dean's right hand reached out and grab her corresponding arm, forcing her to turn back. "I didn't say you could leave. We're not done here."
"Like hell we are," Kara's baneful words oozed malice. The two glared sharp daggers at each other, neither needing to use cruel words to get the point across.
Kara had no idea how things had gotten this far out of control, and, at that moment, she didn't care. She was on fire. Everything had escalated, and right now she was just going with it. She pressed her body up against Deans as his hands gripped her now quickly bare back, shooting hot, fiery embers through her spine. He kissed her hard, and Kara briefly wondered how bruised she was going to be in the morning.
The thought didn't last, thanks to those three bottles of beer. In fact, logical thought and reasoning went straight out the window. All that mattered was the here and now, Dean's strong body pressing down against hers as they fell onto the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist and his lips kissing her collar bone.
Kara's first thought as she awoke the next morning was Oh fuck, quickly followed by another Oh fuck Her third was Where the fuck are my clothes, but she soon realized the word 'fuck' was the last thing she wanted to think about, and she temporarily banned the word from her vocabulary.
She sat up, holding the sheets tight around her otherwise bare body. She glanced over at the other side of the bed, but it was empty. Just then, Kara noticed the smell of something cooking. It smelled like…eggs. And sausage. Possibly some bacon, too.
No way…Kara thought, her eyes scanning the room. There Dean stood, in the kitchen. Warming up some instant breakfast in the microwave. Kara let out a sigh of relief. For some reason, the thought of Dean cooking struck fear into her heart.
Dean didn't seem to notice her at first, but, as if he could feel her eyes, he turned to face her. "Mornin'."
"Morning," Kara managed to get out. Her voice was soft and coarse, causing her to shudder.
Dean smirked and panic overtook Kara as he opened his mouth to speak. "You know, it's kind of late. Did you have a long night or something?"
Kara groaned softly. Thinking about what had happened the night before was the last thing she had wanted, second only to Dean's mocking her.
"Dean…," she sighed. Making sure the sheet was secure, Kara stood up, wanting to escape as soon as was possible. "…Where are my clothes?"
Sam stood near an old building, looking around the outside. He glanced down at the piece of stationary from the Blue Red motel, checking the address: 5637 Monroe St. He was at the right place.
He approached the building cautiously, looking inside through a crack in the wood. Seeing that it is secure, he picks the lock on the door and walks into the long-abandoned house.
Once inside, Sam began his search. The first room is clean. He goes cautiously to enter another room. However, he wasn't careful enough. Sam stepped onto a tripwire, immediately setting it off.
The room explodes into flames. The only remains are Sam's shoe.
"Oh, my God." A young brunette woman, Ava Wilson, sat up in the bed she shared with her fiancée, drenched in sweet and breathing erratically. Sensing her discomfort, Ava's fiancée also woke up.
"Honey?: he asked.
"Huh?" Was all Ava could muster.
"You okay?" he didn't bother trying to hide the concern in his voice.
"What? No, I just had another night. It's fine, it's nothing. Go back to sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." Ava smiled, hoping he was too tired to see the lie.
He was. "Okay."
With her fiancée sleeping, Ava stared off into the darkness, scared out of her mind. She knew what just happened, but she still couldn't believe it. Why was this happening to her?
Ava didn't have the answers she wanted. But she did know one thing. She had to save that guy.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry it took me so long to get this written and posted, I was working some kinks out in the overall story! Please review!