by Ally Blue
***
Dark. Cold.
Bone-freezing blackness, terror like a fist in the throat.
Sam thrashed, struggling to breathe, to move, to get away from what was coming for him. He couldn’t see it, but he felt its approach through the living dark, felt its malevolence thumping through his mind.
Out of the nothingness appeared a point of brilliant light. It writhed, stretched and elongated, and became a shining thread winding through the inky night. Sam followed its bright length with his eyes. One end disappeared into an aperture which led to a world of light, noise and life, so radiant Sam couldn’t look directly at it. On the other end loomed the thing Sam had felt, a presence which swallowed the thread’s luminescence in shadow.
In an instant of blinding clarity, Sam realized the thing wasn’t coming for him at all. It was following the thread, following its path to the door, and beyond…
Sam woke gasping and drenched in sweat. The moonlight pouring through the curtains bathed the room he and Bo shared in silver light. Sam sat up and looked around, peering into the shadows pooled around the furniture. God, the dream had been so vivid, he could almost believe he’d really been in that other place, even though logically he knew he couldn’t have been.
Keeping his eyes open, Sam stretched out his psychic senses. The house felt exactly like it always did. Nothing was out of place, or different. No thread of light, no dark presence filling Sam’s mind with hate and bloodlust. Just the normal energy of a peacefully slumbering house.
Reassured, Sam lay down and spooned himself around Bo, who was curled into a ball and still fast asleep. A shudder went through Bo’s bare back. He let out a soft mewl. Something about it sounded lost and terrified.
Sam frowned. He pushed up on one elbow and leaned over to look into Bo’s face. Bo’s eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. His hands clenched his pillow in a death grip. This close, Sam could hear the faint clack-clack-clack of his teeth chattering.
Adrenaline raced through Sam’s veins. Slipping an arm beneath Bo’s shoulders, Sam hauled Bo’s rigid body into his arms. Bo’s skin felt hot and damp. “Bo! Wake up. Come on.” He held Bo to his chest with one arm and gave his cheek a light slap with his other hand.
Bo’s body jerked violently a couple of times, then relaxed. Awareness filled his empty eyes. He stared up at Sam, panting.
“Bo? Are you all right?” Silence. Sam stroked Bo’s cheek. “Say something, huh? You’re scaring me.”
Without warning, Bo flung both arms around Sam’s neck in a crushing embrace. He buried his face in Sam’s shoulder. He was shaking hard.
“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, holding Bo tight against him. “It’s okay. I think you had another nightmare.”
Bo nodded. His fingers dug painfully into Sam’s back. “It was bad.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Another nod. Relaxing his grip a little, Bo pulled Sam down so that they lay face-to-face, arms and legs wound together. “It was similar to the one I had yesterday. I saw strange things, I think, but I can’t remember what they were now. It was dark and cold and I couldn’t breathe. But this time, something was after me. Something was following me, and I knew I couldn’t get away. That it would catch me eventually.” Bo stared at Sam with haunted eyes. “It seemed so real. For a second, when I woke up, I thought the thing had followed me here. I really expected to see it, and God, I didn’t want to. I was so relieved to see you there instead.”
Dread trickled down Sam’s spine. “I just had a dream almost exactly like that. Except I wasn’t being followed. I was in that same place, but I saw this thread of light leading to a doorway, and felt an entity following the thread to the door.”
Bo’s mouth opened, then closed again. He didn’t say anything, but Sam saw the fear in his eyes, and knew he was thinking the same thing Sam was.
Somehow, the things from the other dimension had sensed the group’s presence at the fort from across the barrier. And they were coming.
Chapter Nine
Unable to go back to sleep, Sam and Bo dressed and trudged downstairs. Bo made a pot of coffee, and the two of them sat on the back porch sipping the extra strong brew and watching dawn creep over the world. Neither spoke. Sam knew they’d have to talk soon, but he had no idea how to bring up the fears he suspected Bo shared. Bo evidently didn’t either. So they sat in silence and watched the rising sun turn the water to molten gold.
When the first early riser appeared on the beach, a young woman jogging along the strip of damp sand stranded by the receding tide, Bo turned sideways in his chair and pinned Sam with a troubled look. “It bothers me that we had such similar nightmares. What do you think it means?”
Sam stomped hard on the part of himself that wanted to remind Bo of how he’d dismissed it when Sam had expressed that same concern only a day ago. Now wasn’t the time.
“I’m not really sure,” he said, watching Bo’s face. “But I don’t think we should ignore it, especially since both of our dreams have been so similar to what you said you felt during those weird spells you had.”
Bo curled a leg underneath him. He turned and gazed out over the water, his coffee mug cupped in his hands. “You think Fort Medina is a potential portal site, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. The EMF level is high enough, and the psychic energy is awfully unstable there.”
Nodding, Bo lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. The steam curled around his face. “Did you feel anything last night? Psychically speaking, that is.” His gaze wouldn’t meet Sam’s.
He’s afraid. Sam’s stomach clenched. He wished he could tell Bo he’d felt nothing, that the episode last night and the dreams this morning were the result of Bo’s illness and Sam’s empathy for him, nothing more. But that would be a lie, and lying wouldn’t help either of them.
Sam set his coffee on the porch railing, reached over and laid a hand on Bo’s knee. “Right before you passed out, I sensed something. It was just for a second, right on the edges of my perception, but it was enough for me to know it wasn’t anything that belonged there.”
Bo’s tongue darted out to probe at the corner of his mouth. “Was it a portal trying to open?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s why you said we needed to get out of there.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think you heard that.”
“I did. Just barely.” Bo set his mug beside Sam’s and turned to look at him. “The portal didn’t open, though. Why? And why do you think it was trying to open in the first place? Was it because we were fighting, do you think? That’s what finally triggered the one at Oleander House.”
Sam dropped his gaze to his lap. Nine months later, he still couldn’t think about Oleander House without feeling nearly smothered by guilt and shame, even though he knew he wasn’t to blame for what had happened. “I think my anger and frustration with you is probably what caused it to almost open, yes. I have no idea why it didn’t.” He raised his eyes to meet Bo’s. “My control is better, but it’s not that good.”
“Well, it’s not as if you’ve had very many portals to practice on, thankfully.”
“True.”
Bo stared into his coffee cup. When he looked up again, his expression was full of worry. “You don’t think my…illness, or whatever it is, has anything to do with that portal, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering.” Sam drew a deep breath and let it out. “Truthfully, I have no idea. I sort of feel like it does, but I don’t have anything to base that on. Just a sort of gut feeling, and we all know how reliable those are. And to be honest, I don’t know how the two could possibly be related. Unless you’ve suddenly become psychic.” He nudged Bo with his elbow. “You haven’t, have you?”
He was only half joking, and Bo’s laughter at the idea was a relief. “No, Sam, I haven’t become psychic. The only thing I felt last night was nausea and dizziness. I can’t sense the fort’s energy, and I certainly haven’t felt anything
that I would describe as portal-like, going by your accounts of them.”
“Good.” Sam glanced at the water glinting in the sun, then back at Bo. He was staring out over the Gulf, seemingly lost in thought. Stray strands of black hair pulled loose from his braid to blow across his face in the rising breeze. Sam’s insides constricted with a sudden rush of desire. “Bo?”
“Hm?”
Sam waited until Bo turned toward him. Leaning over, he cupped Bo’s face in his hands and kissed him. Bo’s mouth opened with a soft sigh. He tasted of coffee and caramel creamer, mingled with a need equal to Sam’s own.
Bo smiled as they drew apart, brown eyes bright with a familiar hunger. “Let’s go back upstairs,” he murmured, and flicked his tongue over Sam’s lips. “The others won’t be up for a while yet.”
Sam answered him with another kiss. When it broke, he stood, took Bo’s hands in his and pulled him to his feet. “You sure you feel up to sex right now?”
“I’m definitely up…” Bo thrust his erection against Sam’s, “…to being inside you.” He dipped his head and bit at the juncture of Sam’s neck and shoulder. “But I’m still feeling kind of weak. You’ll have to do all the work.”
Sam knew what that meant—Bo on his back, Sam riding him. Sam grinned. He loved that position.
Arm snug around Bo’s waist, Sam led him inside and up the stairs to their bedroom.
It was good, just like always, even though Bo seemed more passive than usual. Sam figured that, at least, could easily be blamed on sickness. When Sam’s release hit, bowing his spine and blasting his senses wide open, he ignored the faint thread of wrongness he felt emanating from Bo. He’d never been able to sense anyone’s personal energy field, and there was certainly no reason to think he could now. It was his imagination, the result of the loss of control which always went along with orgasm.
Watching Bo’s face as Bo came deep inside him seconds later, Sam told himself the blank look in Bo’s eyes was due to the surge of pleasure making his body jerk and his hips buck. The sudden, jarring sensation of something else looking out of Bo’s eyes had to be Sam’s imagination again. He was still riding out the aftershocks of his own release, and it was messing with his head. That was all.
He lay awake long after Bo had drifted off, still trying to convince himself.
***
Eventually, Sam gave up on sleep. He pulled on his clothes and wandered downstairs. Bo didn’t even move.
The rest of the group filtered in one by one. By noon, everyone but Bo was up and reviewing evidence. Sam started on one of the videos from the night before, thinking the work would distract him from his worry over Bo, but it was no good. He couldn’t keep his mind on what he was doing. He excused himself with an apology to Andre and headed out to the beach.
Outside, Sam parked himself on the wooden bench tucked against the base of a huge sand dune. Over the past few hours the breeze had turned into a hard wind which whipped the sand against his legs and bent the sea oats almost double. The Gulf was still a clear green, though the waves were higher than they’d been the day before. The hazy sky spoke of rainy weather to come.
He’d only been out there a few minutes when he heard bare feet shuffle through the sand behind him. Dean plopped onto the bench a moment later. He slouched against the weathered wood, hands laced behind his head, and stared up at the sky.
“Looks like rain,” Dean said, squinting against the glare.
Sam nodded. “Not today, though. I’m betting it hits tomorrow.”
“Probably.” Dean glanced at Sam. “What’s wrong?”
Sam’s shoulders tensed. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
With a shrug, Dean unclasped his hands and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you can. You know that, right?”
Sam did know, and was endlessly grateful for Dean’s staunch friendship. Dean was always willing to lend a sympathetic ear. Venting over the phone to Dean after a fight with Bo had become so commonplace that Sam felt a little guilty about it, in spite of Dean’s assurances that he was happy to help and would definitely let Sam know if he could ever return the favor.
“I think he’s still having those spells,” Sam confessed. “And we both had nightmares that were so much alike it was frightening.” Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his forehead, where a dull ache had begun. “I’m worried about him. If it’s this virus or whatever that’s causing these episodes, that’s bad enough, because you know he’s liable to push himself too hard and make it worse. If it’s something else…”
Dean cocked his head sideways, reminding Sam of a curious puppy. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Sam admitted after a moment’s consideration. “I really don’t know what’s making me feel like it’s anything more sinister. I just do. I can’t help it.”
“Okay, let’s look at this logically.” Dean shoved a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. The wind blew them right back across his face as soon as he let go. “You say Bo’s been acting strange for the last couple of days, right?”
“Oh yeah. Very right.”
“And that’s pretty much coincided with him having those spells, as you call them.”
“Right.”
“Hm.” Dean scratched at a mosquito bite on his knee. “Describe the spells to me again.”
“He basically just blanks out for a while. The first one was literally just a split second, but the others have lasted longer. He says when it happens, he feels like he’s in a different place, where it’s dark and cold and he has trouble breathing.”
“What about last night, when he passed out? Was that an episode like those other times, or was it different?”
“It was different. At least I think it was. He’s never passed out like that, for one thing. And he didn’t say anything about having the sense of being someplace else with that one. At the time, I thought he was lying and that he really did have another spell, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m seeing things in this situation that aren’t really there.” Sam turned sideways and leaned an elbow on the back of the bench. “It does seem likely that it’s all related to him being sick, doesn’t it?”
Dean was silent, staring thoughtfully into space. Sam frowned. “Dean?”
Blinking, Dean turned toward him. “Hm? What?”
“What were you thinking just now?”
“I was just wondering if…”
“If what?”
Dean shook his head. “Never mind, it’s crazy. About what you were saying before, yeah, even a mild fever can make people feel pretty strange sometimes. Especially if they’ve been out in the heat all day and are dehydrated like Bo was last night.”
Sam rubbed the stubble on his chin. It made sense. It could explain everything that had happened to Bo in the past two days, even the nightmares.
He should’ve been relieved. But he wasn’t. Something was wrong. Something beyond a simple illness. Sam knew it. His bones ached with the dread of it.
“I felt something last night,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the rising wind. “Right before Bo passed out.”
Dean’s gaze bored into him, needle sharp. “What was it?”
“I think it was a portal, Dean. I think I almost opened an interdimensional portal at the fort.”
All the color drained from Dean’s face. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Why? How?”
“Bo and I were fighting. I was angry. Furious, in fact.” Sam laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “Bo can get under my fucking skin like nobody else.”
Dean arched an eyebrow. “I can believe that. But why would that—?” His eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. It’s because of your psychokinesis. Uncontrolled negative emotions set it off, and if you’re in a place with the potential for a portal to form…”
“Exactly.” Sam dug a foot deep into the loose sand. “Ever since Bo and I went to the fort for the f
irst time, I’ve felt like he was in danger there, and I didn’t know why. I thought it must have something to do with those episodes he’s had, but maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe I’m the one putting him in danger, just by being there.”
Dean leaned toward Sam, one hand on his knee. “Listen, Sam. We don’t know that anyone’s in danger at all. But even if you’re right, y’all are both safe here at the house, right?” Sam nodded his assent, and Dean flashed a wide smile. “Well there you go. All you have to do is stay here. Bo’s already said he wouldn’t come to the fort tonight.”
It was a seductive thought. Sam licked his lips. “What about the rest of you?”
“If you’re right about your emotional reaction triggering a portal, then we should all be perfectly safe if you’re here at the house.”
“And if I’m wrong?”
Dean didn’t answer right away. He held Sam’s gaze, searching his face. “We’ll talk to Andre and Cecile,” he said finally. “Let’s see what they think about it. If the consensus is that we’re in danger, we can stay away. But if we’re in danger even if you’re not there to trigger the portal, then everyone who goes there is in danger. And I really don’t think that’s the case. There have been no reports of anything remotely like a portal in all the fort’s history, and we sure didn’t experience any such thing on the first night.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Everyone should be fine if I stay here with Bo.” Sighing, Sam slumped against the back of the bench. As terrible as it was to be a potential danger to his friends once again, he wanted to believe Dean was right. After all, he and Bo weren’t even supposed to be at the fort. “I hope you’re right, Dean. I don’t even know what to think anymore. It’s all so damn confusing.”
“I know.” Leaning over, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and hugged him. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’m sure Bo will be fine.”
“Yeah.” Sam smiled, patting Dean’s shoulder as he drew away and stood. “I do think we should talk to Joanne about the possibility of a portal, though. If I can open it, anyone else with latent psychokinesis could too.”