No Good Deed - spn fic chpt 1
Disclaimed: As always.
Loved: y'don't spend this much time ficcing for 'em if you don't love 'em.
The darkness was pervasive, that was until he opened his eyes admitting shadows, shades and neon electronic colors to his vision. There was a red line that jumped in time with the rhythm inside of him, there was a little red heart in the corner near some numbers that he knew should mean something to him. His eyes lingered on the heart making something inside him warm and he felt his mouth smile, though he couldn't have said why.
His shoulders hurt, his back itched and he was cold, but he was hot too. Hot enough to feel like there was something on his chest, burning into him with every breath. I'm in a hospital, I shouldn't be here. I need to be out of here. He sat up and it hurt.
To the left something beeped, "Shhh," he hissed at the multitasking machine, the sudden inflow of cold air nearly choking him. The flavor of ash exploded in his throat as he grasped the bedrail, squeezed it as hard as he could and forced his body to relax, forced the desire to cough to go away. Looking down and breathing shallowly through his nose he saw the IV line in his hand. Moments later it was dangling uselessly over the other rail. His skin stung as he turned, the friction pulling uncomfortably, the pressure burning. Feels like sunburn... I don't think it's sunburn. What the hell happened?
He tested his strength slowly pushed up until he was on his feet oddly surprised that he had both strength and balance. Why am I in a hospital? How'd I end up here? What happened? He moved to the closet opening it quietly and finding a plastic bag with a scratched and scarred money clip that held a few singed bills, a small ring with two GM keys on it, and two rings, one that was a ruby colored metal and the other that looked like silver with a band of gold over the center of it. He looked at the backs of his hands then at the rings and slid them onto the appropriate fingers. Hmm, married. He searched the now empty bag again and scowled then swept through the closet, okay, shoes... damn heavy boots man, where's the clothes, where the hell are my clothes? Oh this sucks! Screw this... he clutched the boots to his chest, stuck the money clip and keys into one of them, peered out into the hallway and noted the nurse at the station seeming to be playing a game on the computer.
To his left in a rack on the wall was a blue three ring binder. Carefully he lifted it out and looked at the spine the name Doe, John jumping out at him. John Doe? He opened it up and quickly scanned the pages, all of them with the same name. Bracelet! The idea struck him so he put the chart back and checked his left wrist, indeed the name was a match. Of course, that's why it's familiar, it's my name. A satisfied sigh later he slipped into the hallway moving on autopilot in the only direction he could go. It's a small hospital, I need clothes there's gotta be a storage... ahh! He shook his head, there wasn't even a lock on the knob. He glanced around quickly and slid into the small room quickly stripping off the jonnie.
He took a moment to look himself over, his arms and legs were sunburn red and there were a few spots where he was bandaged. Burned, how? What happened? If I was burned I should remember it shouldn't I? He shook his head sliding into a pair of blue scrubs then slid a pair of booties onto his feet and finally put his boots on. I gotta get out of here, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob, go where? He patted himself down frowning, what the hell kind of idiot doesn't have a wallet? What the hell was I doing? He wondered as the sound of flames leaped to life behind him. He turned startled, his skin prickling as sweat tried to explode out of him. His throat clenched and his lungs began to spasm. He turned, grasped a pair of scrubs and pressed them hard into his face as a series of shredding coughs doubled him over.
When he was through and breathing with a semblance of normalcy again he leaned against the wall, wondering if he shouldn't be back in his bed and resting.
He shook his head and moved quickly toward the emergency exit and somehow knew that the threat to sound an alarm if the door was opened would only be valid if there was a power outage and the place was on lockdown. Maybe I belong here, maybe I'm a doctor, or a nurse, but quickly dismissed that idea ...what do I do? Moving down the stairs quickly he emerged into the main lobby where the reception desk stood empty and apparently closed for the night. Computers... maybe my address is in one of the files.
In a matter of minutes he sat back scrubbing his head with his hand, well that just doesn't make sense. Course maybe I left my wallet in the car... but which car? What do I drive? He took out the keys and examined them, it's old, old enough to use a different key for the doors and the trunk, her carb gets touchy in the mountains. Huh, how'd I know that? If it's a carburetor mixed instead of fuel injected it's older, maybe as late as the late 70's to early 80's... a classic, cool. Bet I'll spot her right away. He grinned satisfied with his train of logic and headed out into the mist covered parking lot.
The parking lot was eerily quiet, something about the mist covered blacktop altering the sound of his footsteps quiet though they were. Though the night temperature should have been comfortable, and felt and smelled like the heart of summer moisture penetrated his stolen scrubs, the temperature vastly different and deeply chilling against his burned skin.
He moved among the handful of cars double checking though he was certain none of them belonged to the keys in his pocket. There was one more car on the far side of the lot, sitting alone in a darkened corner. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as he approached it and his belly tightened but he couldn't turn back. There was something that drew him forward. Wish I had a bat or something. He moved quietly to the far side of the car, his keys tight in his fist, the tips of them stabbing out from between his fingers just in case. In the periphery of his hearing a throaty engine sound came tumbling through the trees. Footsteps rustled, almost as if they were pacing him, staying exactly opposite his position. At the drivers side, nearby branches rustled setting his heart racing in his chest as what sounded like footsteps tore through the foliage, running from him.
He had no choice but to follow. Wet slick leaves closed around him just before headlights flicked over his position lighting the back side of something gray and mucous-slick as it seemed to glide between trees. Hah! What the hell? He charged forward evading slapping leaves and branches, his feet moving with a certainty he didn't have a chance to wonder about. Somewhere behind him a voice shouted but he couldn't hear what was said over the sound of his own ragged breathing.
His boot slid on a fallen branch and he lurched forward pinwheeling his arms to keep himself upright. A hard arm grabbed him from behind, locking around his throat, pulling him tight against a hard body. One of the hands slid under his jaw while the other arm kept him pinned him to the body behind him, heat began to build against his back and for a moment it felt good, getting rid of the chill but a heartbeat later the heat penetrated his skin, searing him all over again. Everywhere this guy had a hold on him was starting to feel like it was on fire.
"Help!" he croaked the sound barely audible even in the quiet night. Gray started to close in on the edges of his vision, his limbs fell away from his assailant, his head rolled back as those hands adjusted their grip, cradling him one arm around the back and the other holding his head up from behind. What are you? He wondered fleetingly, taking in the lines, swirls and patterns of ink tattooed all over the man's face. I've seen that before, he realized as the mouth closed over his and his assailant drew deeply, it seemed as if he was trying to pull the very breath from his body.
Something silver cartwheeled past his face just as the world went dark.