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"One Toe Over the Line" chapter seven
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Dean collapsed down onto the thin cot-exhaustion rapidly settling in-- and scooted back into the corner so his back was resting against the wall.
Unconsciously, he rubbed at his wrists where the handcuffs had rubbed the skin raw.
His stomach suddenly overwhelmed by the lack of food and the affects of the whiskey Dean forced his aching, tired body over to the toilet.

After several minutes of vomiting Dean rolled into a sitting position on the cold cement floor. His head feeling as though it were about to explode, Dean closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

‘I’m not pathetic like you.’

Dean winced as Sam’s angry words from the Asylum floated back through his memory.

Dean turned his head to the right, resting his cheek against the cold comfort of the cement wall.


Dean choked on a sob as he recalled his brother’s cries for help in the basement of the bed and breakfast.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”Dean whispered out loud as he curled up against the wall.


The drive back to the motel was made in silence. Duncan parked the mustang in the first place he spotted, turning off the engine he exited the vehicle without a backwards glance at Sam.

Sam watched the Scott’s retreating back for a moment before he got out of the car and followed.

Once in the room Duncan flipped on the light and tossed his coat on a nearby chair. Sam did the same and sat heavily down onto his bed.

Duncan sat on the other bed and took off his shoes kicking them aside. He scooted back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

“Are we demons?”Sam asked breaking the silence. The thought had been nagging at him since the fight in the alley. He just hadn’t had the courage to voice it until now.

“No.”Duncan replied quietly not opening his eyes.

“Are we evil?”Sam asked as he rested his head back against the pillow.

“Some are, but by choice not by who we are.”

“These……”Sam paused searching for the correct term. “Quickenings. Do they keep us from aging?”

“They’re just a transfer of the deceased’s memories and life energy. It’s part of it but not the way you think. You’re immortal because you were chosen not because of the Quickenings you receive.”

“How many have you killed?”Sam asked as he closed his eyes wondering when he became comfortable enough with the idea of this new life to inquire about it.

The last image Duncan had of Richie flashed past his mind’s eye as he replied sadly. “Too many, but its part of who we are. Try to get some rest, Sam.”

Sam reached over and turned off the light. He settled back into the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep was elusive.

It was well after midnight before Sam finally drifted into a troubled sleep.


At seven a.m. Mark Reise nodded his thanks to the officer who was guarding the small cell block.

“I can only give you five minutes, Mark.”

Mark looked at his high school classmate. “Thanks Ray, I appreciate it.”

Ray nodded and went back to his spot by the door.

Mark looked into the jail cell at the still form of Dean Winchester. He’d received a call the night before from the owner of the bar who was an old friend of his from his military days. Tom had known of Sam’s death and that the boys had been staying at the inn.

“Dean.”Mark called trying to get the younger man’s attention.

Dean stirred at the voice. He swallowed in an effort to get moisture to his dry mouth.

Mark stepped closer to the cell door. “Dean.”

Dean opened his green eyes slowly. As he tried to orientate himself to his surroundings his gaze landed on the source of the voice and the memories came back with a crushing force.

Sam’s death.
Going to the morgue.
The fight with the dockhands.
Being arrested.

“Mr. Reise?”Dean asked hoarsely as he struggled to get to his feet. Bad idea he realized too late as the floor of the jail cell tilted like the titanic.

Dean quickly grabbed the sink for support and closed his eyes.

“Are you alright, son?”Reise asked with concern.

“Been better.”Dean replied as he swallowed a new wave of nausea. He cautiously opened his right eye and saw that the room had righted itself once more.

Not daring to take another step though, Dean turned to face Reise his hands firmly gripping the sink behind him.

“What are you doing here?”Dean asked his voice getting stronger.

“The owner of the bar’s a friend of mine.”Mark replied. “He told me what happened.”

“Tried to help somebody, didn’t work out.”Dean said with a shrug.

Mark smiled. “Tom told me Ann’s grateful you tried to step in.”

“Why are you here?”Dean asked again.

Mark rested his forearms against the cell door. “I owe you.”

Dean shook his head wincing at the pain the movement brought. “No, you don’t.”

Mark lowered his voice. “You lost your brother because of me.”

Dean closed his eyes. “I-I really don’t want to talk about Sam right now.”

Mark’s gaze softened. “You don’t have too. I know what you’re going through. I lost my younger brother Paul in

Vietnam. He was an army medic, helicopter he was in was shot down. Devastated my family.”

“Mark.”Ray called from the door. “Time’s up.”

Reise glanced at him and nodded. “Okay.”He turned back to Dean. “As soon as the court house opens I’ll see what I can do about arranging bail.”

Dean was once again amazed by the Reise’s kindness. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back soon.”Mark promised as he turned and followed Ray out of the cell block.

go to chapter eight