Word Count: (this chapter) 2,487
Warnings: Coarse language, gore, SUPERNATURAL THEMES AND BY THEMES I MEAN CROSSOVER LIKE WHOA.
Spoilers: Okay this takes place in Glee Season 2, post Born This Way. For SPN it's placed in the year-that-wasn't (i.e. earlier this year) between Season 5 and Season 6. So, Dean is at the Braedon place playing happy families and Sam is soulless and off playing not-so-happy families with Clan Campbell. And Jo is…not dead…
Author's Note: I don't know why this keeps happening to me at work. It's so bloody inconvenient. I also don't know why I keep writing new fics when my WIPs are glaring at me accusingly. D: It's a disease, I swear…
Something is happening to Dave. He's hearing voices. He knows things he shouldn't – couldn't – and feels like he should know more. Like he's forgotten something important, something crucial.
And then there's the hex bag he found in his locker…
It happens without warning or reason.
Voices rip through him, bright and effervescent and thunderous. They fill his head and beat in his heart and roar in his ears.
Dave lets out a sound, something anguished and hoarse as goes to his knees in the middle of the field, clutching the sides of his head.
Behind him, he hears his name being called, and then Azimio's hands are on his shoulders, his face a blur of fear and concern. Dave can feel tears streaming down his face, crippling despair filling him like frigid water. He can't even speak, can't answer as Zee frantically asks what's wrong, what's wrong?
Then there's wetness against his palms, viscous heat – blood running from his ears – and the world tips sideways as he passes out.
The doctors ask if this has happened before, about the events leading up to it, if he has a history of head injuries.
Dave shakes his head and gazes at them with bleak eyes. They leave him alone and go to speak to his parents.
The voices have sunk to a more manageable stream of whispers, and when he can bear to listen to them, he tries to pick one thread from the many, but they're not making any sense. They keep talking about demons and vessels and revelation and oh god, Dave does not want to have schizophrenia – and this is how it starts, right? With voices in your head and…
And it doesn't explain the blood.
And it doesn't explain the feeling that something is…missing. Like he's forgotten something important.
Twenty minutes later he realizes that the voices aren't speaking English.
-Say After Me-
The new school nurse is called Ms Harvelle. She's young and blond and pretty, but she hardly seems to smile. When Noah Puckerman shows up saying he has a headache and looking for a place to nap she watches him flatly until he skulks back to math class.
Dave watches him go, handsome face hangdog, and sits quietly while Ms Harvelle reads the letter from his doctor. When she's finished, she looks up at him, and Dave wants to squirm. Her face is intent, brown eyes dark as wet earth.
"What happened, David?"
"It says in the letter –"
"This?" She holds it up. "This is a description of an episode you had and an outline of a care and prevention plan. It's a collection of medical jargon. Tell me what happened."
He doesn't know why he does it. He doesn't know.
But he tells her everything he didn't tell the doctors and his parents.
-In My Place-
Beiste holds him back after practice and asks him if he'll be okay to play. He tells her yes, tells her about the prevention part of the plan in Ms. Harvelle's office and then flees.
He skips the locker room and goes straight home, ignoring texts from Zee and Santana and Strado.
He just needs to get away.
He just needs to think.
The voices keep talking, and now they're whispering about monsters.
His dreams are filled with shadows. Light against walls and doorways. Cold, gold edged rooms. Beautiful, distant faces he should know but can't place or make sense of (they have too many eyes). He wakes shaking and sometimes crying and once, shouted so loudly his parents burst into his room as his eyes opened, thinking he was having another 'episode'.
He shakes them off and won't talk about it.
It the morning he goes by Ms Harvelle's office and catches up on missed sleep. She doesn't ask questions, but somehow he ends up telling her anyway.
She listens, head tilted a little to one side, face full of thought. "And they're talking about monsters now?"
He nods. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"
"Do you feel crazy?"
He looks up at her, heart in his mouth, because no – no, he doesn't. Sometimes he feels like he's waking up from something, even as he's falling apart.
Ms Harvelle smiles at his answer. "Then you're not crazy. Now, pack your shit and get to class."
Kurt, of all people, corners him after lunch one day.
"Are you okay?" He's got this apprehensive look on his face like he expects Dave to go off – like he's some kind of time bomb, which…some days it feels like that, but not today. Today is a restless day, like he's forgotten something urgent he should be doing. The voices are frenetic, like they know it too.
"I'm fine," he tells Kurt, and keeps pointlessly rustling about in his locker, trying to look busy – trying to keep busy – even though he's can't think what he's looking for.
Maybe Kurt picks up on it because he lets out this doubtful, "…uh-huh."
"I am," Dave says – and then frowns, his hand landing on some unfamiliar shape tucked behind his chemistry textbook. All he can feel is soft, dusty leather – and then he pulls his hand out and there's a small pouch in it, simple, tied with a shoelace like one from his football boots…
"David," Kurt says. "David."
He blinks up at Kurt. "Yeah?"
"What the hell is that?"
"I…" He looks back down at the pouch. "I don't know. I've never seen it before." He frowns again. There's a creeping feeling down his spine, voices rising to a kind of fever-pitch. "I think…I think someone put it in my locker."
It shouldn't be this frightening…but it is.
Kurt trails after him as Dave makes his way to Jo's office, asking why Dave would take the pouch to show the school nurse, and is irritated and concerned when Dave can't give him a better answer than, "she's nice."
"She's nice?" Kurt seems to be putting all the scorn he can into that one word.
"Christ, Kurt, I don't know, okay? She's always been nice to me and…" Dave kind of wants to curl in on himself, but he's trusted Kurt with secrets before and it hasn't backfired on him yet, so… "I can talk to her. I can't tell my parents or my friends, or even Ms Pillsbury, but I can tell Jo."
"She lets her call her by her first name?" Kurt sounds suspicious…and then he stares at Dave like he's just realizing something. "Wait, did you come out to her?"
"No." Dave can hear the hardness in his voice, but doesn't apologize. "I don't talk to anyone about…that. I talk to Jo about other stuff."
Dave doesn't answer. He quickens his pace, hoping Kurt will take a hint and storm off to class or something, but he just gives Dave a sidelong glare and powerwalks a little to keep pace with him. They're still quiet when they get to Jo's office and Dave knocks on the door. She waves them in when she sees Dave, not exactly smiling, but her mouth quirks up a little and she doesn't look displeased.
"Hi Dave," she murmurs, "What can I help you with?" When she sees his uncertain look, she frowns. "What is it?"
Dave takes the pouch out of his pocket and carefully puts it down on her blotter pad. "I…I found this in my locker. I think someone put it there."
Jo stares at it, her face pale and her jaw tight. "Fuck," she breathes.
Kurt makes a small sound of surprise beside Dave. Then Jo gets quickly to her feet, plucks a set of gloves from the box on the shelves behind her and starts giving orders.
"Dave, go wash your hands," she says, nodding to the sink by one of the beds. "Use the hand-wash with the blue lid and then glove up. Kurt, close the blinds and do the same."
Dave does as he's told, but sees Kurt hesitating, like its suddenly occurring to him that things are serious and he's not sure he wants to be here. Maybe Jo sees it too, because she looks up at him, dark eyes narrowed.
"Or you can go to class. It's okay if you want to."
Maybe Kurt saw a challenge where there was wasn't one, but the smaller boy squares his shoulders and goes to drop the blinds.
-In the House of Flies-
The hand-wash smells like mixed herbs – Dave can pick out rosemary and cloves and something peppery. It leaves his palms and fingertips tingling, like the time he got shocked by his uncle's power drill.
He gloves up with Kurt. They're a little tight for him, and he worries that his nails might pop through the latex.
"Ms Harvelle," Kurt says, "what is this thing? Why do we have to wear gloves?"
Jo gives them both a piercing look, like she's sizing them up. "It's a hex bag, and I don't know what's been put into it, so. Better safe than sorry."
"A hex bag?" Dave asks.
Jo nods. "Witches use them."
The world flips one-eighty.
"Witches?" he hears Kurt say, full of disbelief and scorn. "Are you serious?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Is she serious?" he demands of Dave.
"Very," Jo murmurs. She cuts through the shoelace holding the leather closed and it falls into a square, contents gathered at its centre.
Bright, cherry-red and wet.
Everything is soaked in it. Dave can make out a fistful of crushed feathers and something that might be a coin, and a piece of knotted fabric. There are other things, things barely identifiable under the blood…
"Are…" Kurt sounds a little broken. "Are those…teeth?"
Jo has taken a set of tweezers and is carefully disentangling the…things…from each other, setting them out in a row on a steel tray. She uses a spray bottle of water to gently wash the blood away, and yes, yes, those are definitely teeth. Very small teeth. Milk teeth.
Dave wants to be sick.
Kurt flails for the sink and is sick.
"What the hell is going on?" he gasps.
Jo looks angry, and worried. "Someone," she says, voice low, "does not like you, Dave."
"What?" His heart is galloping in his chest. The voices are distant, a torrent of faraway whispers. "Why?"
"Hex bags are used for several things, but an arrangement like this?" She gestures to the morbid line of artefacts. "Someone putting this in a place belonging to you could only be wishing you harm. Or worse."
"Worse?" Kurt croaks.
Jo sighs and holds up the coin. It's strung on a chain and swings gently to and fro. Her eyes are dark as the spaces between stars.
"This isn't just a coin," she says, "this was made before they had coins in common currency."
"What is it then?" Dave asks.
"It's a medallion," she tells them, "of King David."
In his head, one voice rises above the rest to a roar.
-The Way to Breathe-
Dave skips the rest of the day and spends it hidden under a crown oak in a park near his house. His mom used to take him here when he was little. He used to climb this tree and pretend to be Peter Pan. Now he leans against the trunk and tries not to think.
He's so busy not-thinking it takes him a few minutes to realize his phone is practically exploding with enraged texts from Kurt, much of them in caps and with a common theme of EVERYONE IS GOING INSANE INCLUDING YOU DAVE KAROFSKY HOW COULD YOU DITCH ME IN THIS PIT OF MADNESS GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN WHY PEOPLE ARE LEAVING BLOODY TEETH IN YOUR FCUKING LOCKER.
Dave doesn't know why people would leave teeth is his fcuking, uh…fucking locker any more than Kurt does, so he texts back, ask Jo, and goes back to not thinking.
Seconds later his phone goes off again: Where the hell are you and what the hell are you doing?
Because there doesn't seem to be any point in being anything other than completely honest with Kurt – it's like instead of functioning gaydar they gave him creepy Dave-centric mind-reading abilities or something – Dave replies with, trying not to think about it.
After a few minutes – where are you?
Dave sighs, gives up, and texts Kurt his location. Sure enough… Stay put.
He hears Kurt's Navigator pull up and the sound of his boots as he makes his way over to Dave's tree. Then a perfectly coiffed head pokes around the trunk. "Are you okay?"
This time Dave is honest.
"Okay." Kurt nods, looking at his boots for a moment before settling himself next to Dave against the tree trunk. "So tell me why."
The next day Dave finds Jo sitting behind her desk with a split lip and a bruise purpling her jaw. He can see another one on her left forearm and when she gets up its evident she's trying not to bear too much weight on her right leg.
She waves off his concern and hands him a pendant on a leather cord. "Put this on and don't ever, ever take it off, okay?"
He warily takes it, inspecting the pendant, which resembles a pentagram surrounded by the rays of a sun. "What is it?"
This doesn't alarm him as much as it should. The voices talk about demons often enough… "Do you have another one?"
She raises an eyebrow. "I have several."
Dave takes another three, and when he gets home he'll secret one in each of this parent's wallets.
He gives Kurt his as he walks him to French. And for once, Kurt doesn't ask questions.
Each morning Jo seems to have a new collection of bruises, and Dave's on the verge of asked what the hell is going on when what's going on arrives at school after practice one Thursday and gets in his face.
It's Hank Saunders – but it's not Hank Saunders. He can see the kid's face, but over it and…and under it is a face made out of oil and blackness and seething maggots and unclean awful things Dave's completely inadequate human brain cannot begin to process.
But he knows what this is.
He shouldn't, but he knows this is a demon.
Hank – or the thing wearing him – comes at him, and before he can react he's hurled back against his own truck, head bouncing off the door and stars bursting behind his eyes.
Vaguely, he hears his name being called, thinks it might be Jo, but his head hurts and then…
And then the thing is laughing in his face, talking about how his boss is just going to love this, a little angel radio all to themselves and Dave KNOWS WORDS.
He manages to get a grip on the thing's wrist and then those WORDS, that alien LANGUAGE, is pouring out of him in a fount of low, air-rending, earth-shaking vowels and hard, rock-solid consonants.
The demon wearing Hank Saunders screams, and then seconds later tears itself from his body, boiling away into the air in a torrent of thick black smoke.
Hank collapse against Dave, insensate and too heavy; Dave's knees go out from under him and they both hit the pavement. There are familiar footsteps and then Jo is there, helping Dave lever Hank up and put him in the recovery position.
"What the hell?" Dave gasps, still illogically winded and fighting the spangles of panic in his chest. His heart pounds away, threatening to break a rib. "What…that wasn't English. That was…"
"That wasn't even Latin," Jo says. "That, from what I've heard, was Enochian."
Dave stares at her. "What does that mean?"
She tilts her head, bird-bright and almost suspicious. "It means you're not just high school junior, David Karofsky."
-Shake It Out-
The next day Jo calls him out of class and when he gets to her office she takes him to the parking lot and hustles him into her white pickup.
They drive for half an hour, the outskirts of town where the grass has found its way between the slabs of the sidewalk and the eyes of those on the streets are suspicious and hard.
The house they stop at has a sagging porch and steps missing boards and the woman who meets them at the door is rail thin and uglier for it. Her eyes are dishwater blue and carve holes in all they find. Dave wants to pull away from her or hide, but Jo drags him inside and puts him in what looks like a salvaged dentist's chair.
"Shirt off," the woman says, her voice a rasp, and Dave cannot bring himself to protest.
Then she gets out the tattoo kit and puts a symbol on his chest, over his heart. It's a replica of his anti-possession pendant.
"Just in case," Jo says, and there's an apology in her voice.
Dave nods. "Are we done?"
"No," the woman says, and when Dave stares at her she cracks a nicotine-yellow smile and continues, "There're more things we need to hide you from than demons, my boy."
AN2: Hokay, playlist time!
Destiny – Bear McCreary
Sonata (Battlestar Sonotica) – Bear McCreary
Say After Me – Bic Runga
In My Place – Coldplay
First Snow – Clint Mansell
Teardrop – Massive Attack
Scarlet – Brooke Fraser
In the House of Flies – Deftones
The Way to Breathe – Fur Patrol
White Rabbit – Emiliana Torrini (Sucker Punch version)
Jaded – Blindspott
Shake It Out – Florence + The Machine