by Ally Blue
Stalking over to Bo, he snatched the thermal camera from his hand and switched it off. “All right, that’s it. If you have something to say to me, just fucking say it already. I’m sick of listening to you whine like a little kid.”
Bo’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Fine. I was trying not to hurt your feelings—”
“Bullshit,” Sam spat. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice your fucking passive-aggressive bitching? You knew I would hear, especially that last bit.”
In the glow of Sam’s flashlight, a muscle in Bo’s jaw twitched. His eyes burned. “As. I. Was. Saying,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I really thought it would be better for everyone if you and I were teamed with other people tonight.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t want me to see if you had another episode like you had before. What a big fucking surprise that was.” Sam started pacing, and let out a bitter laugh when he realized he’d picked up one of Bo’s nervous habits. “What the hell is happening to you, Bo? You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known in my life, but you’ve never been one to completely dismiss something like this. At Sunset Lodge, you were smart enough to recognize that your leg wasn’t behaving normally, and you acted accordingly. You kept Dean and me informed, and let us know what was going on. Why can’t you do that now?”
Bo crossed his arms. His eyes glittered with a dangerous light. “This is a completely different situation.”
“No, it isn’t, dammit! It’s the same! If anything, this is worse because you’re seeing and feeling things that can’t be explained away by a four-hour hike or anything else.” Sam pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. “The worst part is, you’re shutting me out. That scares me.”
Bo pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the dirt floor. He didn’t say a word. Everything about him shouted don’t touch loud and clear. Sam wanted to scream at him, to shake him and hit him, anything at all to break through the wall he’d built between them in the last twenty-four hours and bring him back.
“Bo, please,” Sam said, though he didn’t know what he was pleading for.
Raising his head, Bo looked at Sam. For a moment, Sam thought he saw contrition in the dark depths of Bo’s eyes.
Bo’s lips parted. He took a step forward, faltered and stopped.
Something dark and strange fluttered on the edge of Sam’s psychic perception. Something with a hint of the familiar, setting off alarm bells in his head.
“Bo,” he whispered. “We need to get out of here.”
Bo didn’t answer. His eyes were empty, his expression blank.
Sam’s mouth went dry. Oh, Christ.
Even as Sam dropped the flashlight and lunged forward, Bo’s knees buckled.
Chapter Eight
Sam snaked his arm around Bo’s waist and eased them both to the floor, still clutching the thermal camera in his other hand. His heart hammered so hard he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. “Bo? Can you hear me?”
No answer. Sam set the camera on the floor and peered into Bo’s face by the light of the flashlight, which had come to rest in the corner. The beam pointed toward a spot on the wall to Sam’s left, but it was still strong enough to see by.
Bo’s eyes were half closed and rolled back so that only the whites showed. Sam pressed two shaking fingers to the pulse point in Bo’s throat. At first he felt nothing. After a panicked second he found the pulse, weak and far too fast, but there. Bo’s breathing was rapid and shallow, and sweat dotted his forehead.
Feeling as if he’d fallen into a bad dream, Sam pulled the radio off the waistband of his shorts and thumbed the button. “Dean, come in, this is Sam.” Dean, with his background as an ER nurse’s assistant, would know what to do.
There was a burst of static, followed by Dean’s voice. “This is Dean, go ahead.”
“Bo passed out, and he’s not waking up.” Sam hated the quaver in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been this scared since November, sitting in the surgery waiting room at Mobile General waiting to hear whether Bo was alive or dead. “C-Can… Can you come?”
“Where are you?”
Dean radiated calm competence even over the radio. Some of Sam’s fear seeped away. “In the living quarters. The last room on the east end. There’s a little closet-sized room off to the side.”
“I know the place, Andre and I were there last night. I’m on my way.” Dean was already shouting instructions to Andre before the radio cut off.
As Sam set the radio on the floor beside the camera, Bo stirred in his arms. Brown eyes blinked and snapped into focus. Bo glanced around, looking confused. “Sam? Why are we on the floor?”
Sam smiled, dizzy with relief. “You passed out. Scared the crap out of me.”
Bo’s brow furrowed. “But why would I—?” He stopped, understanding dawning on his face. “Oh. I remember now.”
“You had one of those visions, didn’t you?” Sam stroked a stray lock of ebony hair from Bo’s face. “Are you okay? What did you see this time?”
“That’s not what happened. I just suddenly felt really weak and dizzy. Maybe I’m coming down with a virus or something. I feel a little feverish, actually.” Bo sat up, one arm winding around Sam’s shoulders. “Help me up?”
Sam stared into Bo’s eyes. Bo’s gaze skittered away, telling Sam all he needed to know. Bo had always been a terrible liar.
Then again, Bo had always been a terrible patient as well. Maybe he just didn’t want Sam to see how bad he actually felt.
Not that that scenario was any more comforting.
“Stay there,” Sam ordered. “Dean’s on his way, let him check you over before you try to do anything.”
Bo shook his head, but didn’t argue. “That’s probably a good idea. I’m not sure my legs’ll hold me up at the moment.”
Concerned, Sam laid a hand on Bo’s forehead. The skin was damp with sweat and surprisingly hot. Maybe it really is just a virus. A fever can make you feel pretty weird.
It was almost enough to convince Sam he was wrong. Almost. The juxtaposition of the ominous psychic disturbance he’d just experienced with Bo’s most recent lapse in consciousness practically screamed danger.
Footsteps pounded through the doorway of the larger room at Sam’s back. Dean came flying into the little room and dropped to his knees beside Bo. “Hey,” he panted. “Sam said you passed out. What happened?”
“Sam and I were…” Bo glanced at Sam, his expression unreadable. “We were talking. And I suddenly felt very weak, nauseated and dizzy. I knew I was about to pass out, but I couldn’t seem to move. Luckily, Sam caught me before I could fall.”
Pursing his lips, Dean shone his flashlight on Bo’s face. “You look flushed. How do you feel now?”
“Still weak. Shaky. But not sick or dizzy anymore.”
Dean pressed two fingers to Bo’s wrist. “Your pulse is awfully rapid.”
“He said he felt feverish,” Sam supplied. “He does feel pretty warm to me.”
“Hm.” Dean held the backs of his fingers to Bo’s forehead. “Yeah, you definitely feel like you have a fever.”
“So you think that may have been what caused me to pass out?” Bo’s gaze remained fixed on Dean, but his hand crept onto Sam’s knee and gave a comforting squeeze.
Dean shrugged. “It’s certainly possible. If you’re coming down with a virus, that on top of the run in the heat this morning and being out in the sun most of the afternoon could have dehydrated you enough to cause a syncopal spell.”
“A what now?” Sam asked, confused.
“Passing out.” Bo rubbed his thumb over the curve of Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sure that’s exactly what happened. All I need is some fluids and a little rest, and I should be fine.”
Sam laid his hand over Bo’s. “Should he go back to the house, Dean? I know it would set y’all back some, but maybe someone could drive Bo and me back. I could stay with him.”
Sam still itched to get Bo out of the fort, but the need to leave didn’t feel as urgent as it had a few minutes ago. Plus, he had a feeling trying to talk Bo into going back to the house would cause another argument, and instinct told him he needed to avoid anger between them right now. Whatever it was that had prodded at the margins of his psychic senses a little while ago, it had seemed somehow connected to the anger and frustration spiraling out of control inside him.
It reminded him too much of Oleander House for comfort. Just because he hadn’t accidentally opened a portal since then didn’t mean anything. It could still happen. Fort Medina’s strong electromagnetic field and unstable energy made it a prime spot for a gateway to form. If Sam lost his temper here, the runaway emotions might trigger the psychokinesis he still couldn’t entirely control, and open a doorway to the other side. And if that happened, they would all be in danger.
“Sam? What do you think?”
Turning, Sam met Dean’s questioning gaze. “Sorry, what?”
Dean shook his head as he rose to his feet. “I was saying, I brought some bottled water. It’s in the SUV. We’ll take Bo to the front, and I’ll stay with him and make sure he’s okay while you go get the water. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Sam answered. He aimed a stern look at Bo. “And don’t tell me you feel fine and you don’t need anybody to sit with you. I’m sure you’d be all right alone, but I’ll feel better if Dean watches you for a few more minutes.”
Bo let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not a child who needs babysitting, Sam.”
“No, you’re an adult who just passed out cold not five minutes ago and still isn’t feeling quite back to normal. I’d ask any of our group to do the same in your situation.” He laid a finger over Bo’s lips before he could say a word. “Humor me, okay?”
Bo’s expression softened. Taking Sam’s hand, he kissed his fingers. “Okay. If it’ll make you feel better.”
“It will. Thank you.” Sam stood, pulling Bo up with an arm around his waist. “Just lean on me. And let me know if you start feeling faint again. We can sit down.”
“I’m fine right now. Just a little wobbly.” Removing his arm from around Sam’s shoulders, Bo slipped it around his waist instead. He hooked a thumb into the back pocket of Sam’s shorts. “I’m sorry to put you both to this much trouble. Especially in the middle of an investigation.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m sure we’ll all be happy to lose a few minutes of investigation time to make sure you’re okay.” Dean leaned down to pick up the thermal camera, then crossed to the corner to retrieve Sam’s flashlight. “Let me know if you need to stop, Bo.”
Bo looked like he was about to protest, but he just nodded. Sam was glad. He’d had more than enough of Bo pretending nothing was wrong.
The three of them left the living quarters and made their slow way across the tremendous open space in the midst of the fort. Bo leaned heavily against Sam’s side, but his steps were steady. None of them spoke, though Dean kept a sharp, assessing eye on Bo. If the attention bothered Bo, he didn’t let on. It was a little surprising, but Sam wasn’t about to complain. This was the most normal Bo had been since his first visit to the fort.
It was only a day ago. The realization caught Sam by surprise. It seemed like much longer.
When they drew near the arched tunnel leading to the parking lot, Sam saw three shadowy figures huddled around the table. The low murmur of voices stopped as they approached.
“Oh God,” Bo groaned. “What are they doing here?”
Sam shook his head. He knew Bo hated being the center of attention, especially for something he would perceive as a weakness.
“I asked Andre to meet us here,” Dean explained. “He has the keys to the SUV. I didn’t expect a party.”
“Hey, it was almost time to touch base and switch out some of the equipment anyway.” David sauntered forward to meet them. “Here, Dean, let me have the thermal. It’s my turn for it.”
Dean handed over the camera. “It’s all yours.”
“Thanks.” Grinning, David clapped Bo on the shoulder. “Hey, boss-man. Heard you had an attack of the vapors. You okay?”
Bo laughed. “Yes, David, I’m fine.”
Leading Bo under the arch, Sam pointed at the nearest chair. “Sit. I’ll go get you some water. Andre, could you give me the keys?”
“Sure.” Andre reached into the pocket of his pants, pulled out the SUV keys and tossed them to Sam, who caught them one-handed.
Keys in hand, Sam strode down the tunnel and out into the parking lot, which was empty except for their SUV. Joanne had left after she let them in, saying her brother had been hospitalized unexpectedly and she needed to drive over to Mobile to be with him. Another fort worker was supposed to meet them at three a.m. to lock up again.
A cool, salt-scented breeze sighed through the pines edging the parking lot as Sam jogged toward the SUV. Beyond the fence, the darkness was absolute. Something about the fact that the six of them were all alone in this place, which had seen so much pain and death, gave Sam the shivers. He opened the SUV, found the water bottles Dean had brought, grabbed one and started back as fast as he could.
When he returned, David and Cecile had already left to continue their work. Andre and Dean stood talking in low tones. Dean had positioned himself so he could keep an eye on Bo, who was sitting at the table with his gaze fixed on the laptop.
“Andre, heads up,” Sam called. He tossed the keys to Andre, then plopped into the empty chair beside Bo and set the water bottle on the table. “Here’s some water for you.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Smiling, Bo leaned sideways and planted a kiss on the corner of Sam’s mouth. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long swallow. “Mm. I needed that.”
Andre shoved the SUV keys into his pocket and started gathering equipment. “Okay, Dean, you ready to get started again?”
Dean nodded. “Yep. Bo, radio me if you start feeling bad again.”
“We will,” Sam promised, cutting off whatever Bo was about to say. “Thanks, Dean.”
“Yes, thank you,” Bo echoed. “Don’t worry, I feel completely back to normal now.”
“Good.” Dean leaned both hands on the table and fixed Bo with a serious look. “I know you don’t think this is anything to worry about, Bo, but I think you need to take what just happened seriously. Your passing out was most likely the result of you being dehydrated and feverish from whatever bug it is you’ve caught, but…” He glanced behind him to where Andre stood staring into the empty courtyard, evidently lost in thought. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to blame these blanking-out spells you’ve had on that. Not until I know more about it. I think you need to be watchful, and careful. And I think you should stay at the house tomorrow night.”
Sam tensed. Oh, fuck. Here we go.
Bo’s expression hardened. “Dean—”
“Look, if you’re really sick, you should be resting, not staying up most of the night working.” Straightening up, Dean took a video camera and audio recorder from the equipment scattered across the tabletop. “You and Sam can review evidence, if you really want to help. But my medical opinion is that you should do not a damn thing all day tomorrow except relax, then after a hard day lying around doing nothing, you should go to bed early.”
To Sam’s surprise, Bo laughed. “Whatever you say, Dr. Delapore.”
“Good boy. I do love a cooperative patient.” Dean winked at them and strolled off. He handed Andre the video camera. The two of them headed off into the darkness, and Sam and Bo were alone.
For a while, they didn’t speak. All the things Sam wanted to say formed a hopeless jumble in his brain, preventing him from expressing any of it. It was probably just as well. Nothing he had to say was likely to make Bo happy.
They’d been sit
ting in silence, Bo watching the laptop screen and Sam pretending not to watch him, when Bo laid a hand on Sam’s thigh. “Thank you.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “For what?”
“For putting up with me the last couple of days.” Bo’s lips curved into a wry smile. “I’ve been feeling a bit short-tempered lately. You may have noticed.”
Sam laughed. “You could say that.”
“At least I know why now. I’ve never handled sickness well.”
“Don’t I know it,” Sam said with feeling. The days he’d spent taking care of Bo while he recovered from that near-fatal bite had been trying, to put it mildly.
“Forgive me?” There was a vague flinching quality to Bo’s voice, as if he wasn’t sure Sam would forgive him.
Sam didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
Relief flooded Bo’s face. Scooting his chair closer, he leaned sideways to rest his head on Sam’s shoulder.
Sam put an arm around him and nuzzled his hair. He drew a deep breath of the musky-sweet scent that was uniquely Bo.
I should talk to him, right now when he’s relaxed and might actually listen. I should tell him about what I felt before he passed out. It might not have anything to do with what’s been happening to him, but we can’t ignore the possibility, even if it’s a slight one.
The problem was, the last twenty-four hours had shaken Sam’s faith in Bo’s rationality. Maybe Bo would accept the possibility—however remote—that his most recent episode was related to whatever Sam had felt, and maybe he wouldn’t. If he didn’t, if he grew angry again, Sam wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his own emotions in check. And none of them could afford for him to lose control here.
There was also the very real likelihood that he was wrong. He didn’t believe he was, but what sort of hypocrite would he be if he berated Bo for denying some of the possible explanations, then did the same thing himself?
He had no answer to that. Still undecided about what to tell Bo and when, Sam cuddled closer to Bo and waited for the night’s work to be over.
When they left two hours later, Sam still hadn’t mentioned what he’d felt in the little stone room. Exhausted, with Bo falling asleep on his shoulder as the SUV bumped along the pocked road to the house, Sam decided it could wait until morning.