Post by Teddy on May 18, 2013 21:18:03 GMT -5
Dean and I exited the courtyard, I was leaning on him as we did. My legs were shaky and wobbly, and if you thought I had bad balance before I was just sliced and burned then man, you should've seen me go. Dean had his arm around my waist, as he was taller than I was and lifting my arm to put it over his shoulder wasn't much of an option. I clutched my bow in my hand so tightly my knuckles were white, but it was helping with my numbing pain. I looked around trying to spot Luke, Finn and Roxy, but I had no idea where they were.
"Do you see them?" I asked Dean. He was looking around wildly, but he couldn't see them either.
"Maybe they went back to the gas room?" He suggested.
"Worth a shot, just as long as we don't run into any other random-ass monsters there," I said in annoyance.
"Fat chance," Dean muttered. We made our way to the kitchen again. Dean was doing his best not to fall over every time I tripped over myself, which was a lot. When we reached the part of the hallway that lead to the opening to the kitchen, we braced ourselves for another horrific monster that was looking to rip us apart, but to both of our surprise there was no one, or nothing there. I looked around in a confused manner, as did Dean.
"...Strange," I said. Dean gave a slight nod, still looking around. He looked to his right and locked his bright-eyed stare on a staircase that lead downstairs somewhere. He looked to the left, and I continued to follow his gaze, to see another staircase.
"Where do you think that leads to?" He asked in wonder.
"Oh no, no way are you getting me to go down those ominous stairs. You're crazy Dean," I said shaking my head slowly.
"But what if Luke, Finn and Roxy are down there?" Dean asked.
"You think they would go down those stairs?" I asked in confusion.
"Maybe they wanted to stay hidden from the monsters," Dean reasoned, although his answer wasn't very reasonable.
"Dean, you don't think there are any monsters down THERE?" I yelled. I didn't mean to. My shoulder was killing me and all I wanted was to go to a place where I could rest, and something told me that dark scary staircases were not the best places to rest. Dean looked hurt for a second, like a younger kid who had just been snapped at by their parent. The look flashed across his face quickly, and left the second it had come. His face hardened and he stared at me. His eyes intimidated me in that moment. I could feel myself shrink away a bit, but he only tightened his grip around my waist.
"Fletch, we need to get you somewhere you can rest, and I've seen way too many monsters on this level of the jail to be comfortable with resting anywhere here. Please," he said. He sounded genuinely worried for me, like he was about to lose me, one of the first friends he's had in years, maybe his life. I looked at the staircase and gave a small nod.
"Alright, Dean. You're right. Let's see if we can't find something to patch this up a bit down there," I said. Dean looked relieved to be getting off this floor of the building. I couldn't blame him. He had spent a lot of time in jail, and the only monster he had come into contact with was the one that had been hunting the little girl he saw. For any mortal, or newly found demigod, Alcatraz would be a life changing experience, and not in the good way. The stairs were sandwiched between two walls that hugged the railings tightly. I could hold out my hand and have my arm touch the wall easily as I walked down. I couldn't see the bottom of the stairs, which made me even more nervous. I felt like I was about to plunge into a black hole. Something I would never get out of. I looked up at Dean and even he looked like he was second guessing himself. Which, of course, made me feel even better about myself in this situation.
"You ready?" He asked. His voice confirmed my suspicions that he wasn't sure of himself. I scoffed.
"Are you?" He looked at me skeptically and we started to slowly make our way down the stairs. I leaned on him as I walked and used the wall as another support. He pushed against the wall on his side of the staircase and we kept pretty good balance, that is, until we started to descend into the darkness. When the light of the top stairs didn't show any longer, Dean had to stop pushing against his wall to get his lighter out. I heard the sound of the lighter as he ran his thumb along the gear, and with a final click there was a burst of dim light that came from his hand. Seeing the stairs made my life a lot easier. When we got to the bottom of the stairs finally we both relaxed. I looked around the room I was in but it was pitch black, and the light coming from the lighter didn't do much but give me light to see the outline of thing, and even then they weren't distinguishable.
"Is there a light down here?" I asked.
"That would make sense," Dean agreed. He looked to his right, then his left, holding his lighter out so that he could see.
"Ah, here we are," he said. "close your eyes." I shut my eyes tightly, and he switched on the light. Even with my eyes closed I could tell the room got brighter. I scrunched up my nose and mouth as I opened my eyes a crack, only to be welcomed by the stinging sensation of the intensely bright light that was coming over head. I blinked a bit, and the stinging subsided. I found myself in a room that looked to be an infirmary. There were beds lined up against the wall opposite to the one I was standing near. They had curtains that could be wrapped around the beds for privacy. In the middle of the room were tables that held sharp things like surgical scissors and scalpels. I didn't trust those in a prison that held deadly Greek monsters. There were shelves stalked with bottles of pills and vile's of medicine. Along the wall where Dean and I were standing were tabletops with drawers underneath them.
"See?" Said Dean, straightening his posture. "I told you we should have come down here." I looked around, still slightly unsure.
"Here," he said. "Go sit on one of those beds and I'll see if I can find you some things to help with the pain. He led me over to a bed. I climbed onto it and lay down on my stomach, resting my head on the feather pillow that lay there. I let out a groan of satisfaction. At this rate, a stone pillar would have been comfortable to lay on. I heard Dean rummage through the drawers and the selections of pills and medicine there was. I lifted myself from the bed and carefully slipped off my quiver, setting it on the bed side table beside me, along with my bow. Dean shuffled over with his arms full of things, which he set on the table beside him. He looked at me, then at the stuff.
"I'm not completely sure how to use all of this stuff," he said.
"Great,"
"It can't be that hard, can it?" He asked. I didn't answer. I wasn't so sure I wanted a guy who didn't know what he was doing to tend to my wounds. "We'll get Roxy to look over it when we find them," he continued.
"Yeah, hopefully she doesn't shame your patch job too much," I said. Dean grinned.
"Alright, I guess you should take off your shirt," Dean said. He didn't mean to make it sound awkward, but the unsureness of his voice made it sound like one of those inexperienced porno's... Not that I'd seen any, no. Never. Sicko.
"Gods, Dean, no foreplay?" I teased.
"Really, Fletch?" He asked, rolling his eyes.
"Alright, alright, fine. Jeez. So impatient," I said. Dean looked like he'd slap me if he didn't feel like it was his fault I was hurt. I wrestled with my shirt uncomfortably before Dean came over, tired of watching my struggle and helped me out. He hung it over the headboard of the bed. It was ripped in the back, and where the claw marks were. It was soaked with blood, the rest was soaked with sweat. Ew. The sleeves, now torn off, were shredding, and I wondered if I was even going to have a shirt by the end of this. I rested my head back on my pillow and placed my hands on my head as I watched Dean take a cloth and some disinfectant. He poured the liquid onto the cloth and walked over to me. He stared at the claw marks on my back. I hadn't seen them, but they felt like they looked disgusting.
"Man, this is heavy," he said in almost a whisper, the smell of alcohol radiated off the hand he held the cloth in.
"What?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
"The burn literally stopped the bleeding. But godamn, it looks pretty bad," Dean said.
"Stupendous," I said sarcastically, burying my face into the pillow.
"aw, man it's all red and black and-"
"Dean!" I yelled. "I don't want to hear what it looks like, just put the fucking disinfectant on it." I told him. As soon as I had I wished I hadn't. Dean started to gently dab the cloth onto my wound, and when I say gently, I mean I could tell he was trying to go as softly as he possibly could, but every time he brought the alcohol down on the wound I clenched the pillow I found myself holding onto tighter. My knuckles were white. I wailed into the pillow in pain. It felt like he was tearing my skin open again. Every time I groaned or yelled out he would apologize. When he was done with that, the whole left side of my body tingled. Dean then proceeded to fit a large bandage on the wound. He taped it down with surgical tape. I was breathing heavily now. Dean handed me a couple pills and I downed them desperately, wishing I had some Ambrosia. Dean sat down at the foot of the bed I was lying on and sighed. We sat there in relaxing silence for a while, neither of us really knew what to do next. This was the first quest either of us had been on. I had no idea where I could possibly find this Charlie kid. Finding my friends was the first thing that was on my mind. The pain medication Dean had given me was working surprisingly well. The tingling had died down, and my shoulder was back to the numb feeling it had felt before, but I still didn't feel like I was doing too hot. Nectar or Ambrosia would have worked faster for this. I had a feeling I would probably OD on these drugs if I didn't stop taking them. Dean seemed to have the same thought because he put them in his pocket and refused to give me more. Just when Dean and I were beginning to have hope that not every room in this prison was infested with monsters, our luck seemed to turn. A voice came from the top of the stairs opposite to the ones we had come down. A woman. Her voice was smooth, but sent chills down my spine.
"Well, well, well," she said. "What do we have here?"
"Do you see them?" I asked Dean. He was looking around wildly, but he couldn't see them either.
"Maybe they went back to the gas room?" He suggested.
"Worth a shot, just as long as we don't run into any other random-ass monsters there," I said in annoyance.
"Fat chance," Dean muttered. We made our way to the kitchen again. Dean was doing his best not to fall over every time I tripped over myself, which was a lot. When we reached the part of the hallway that lead to the opening to the kitchen, we braced ourselves for another horrific monster that was looking to rip us apart, but to both of our surprise there was no one, or nothing there. I looked around in a confused manner, as did Dean.
"...Strange," I said. Dean gave a slight nod, still looking around. He looked to his right and locked his bright-eyed stare on a staircase that lead downstairs somewhere. He looked to the left, and I continued to follow his gaze, to see another staircase.
"Where do you think that leads to?" He asked in wonder.
"Oh no, no way are you getting me to go down those ominous stairs. You're crazy Dean," I said shaking my head slowly.
"But what if Luke, Finn and Roxy are down there?" Dean asked.
"You think they would go down those stairs?" I asked in confusion.
"Maybe they wanted to stay hidden from the monsters," Dean reasoned, although his answer wasn't very reasonable.
"Dean, you don't think there are any monsters down THERE?" I yelled. I didn't mean to. My shoulder was killing me and all I wanted was to go to a place where I could rest, and something told me that dark scary staircases were not the best places to rest. Dean looked hurt for a second, like a younger kid who had just been snapped at by their parent. The look flashed across his face quickly, and left the second it had come. His face hardened and he stared at me. His eyes intimidated me in that moment. I could feel myself shrink away a bit, but he only tightened his grip around my waist.
"Fletch, we need to get you somewhere you can rest, and I've seen way too many monsters on this level of the jail to be comfortable with resting anywhere here. Please," he said. He sounded genuinely worried for me, like he was about to lose me, one of the first friends he's had in years, maybe his life. I looked at the staircase and gave a small nod.
"Alright, Dean. You're right. Let's see if we can't find something to patch this up a bit down there," I said. Dean looked relieved to be getting off this floor of the building. I couldn't blame him. He had spent a lot of time in jail, and the only monster he had come into contact with was the one that had been hunting the little girl he saw. For any mortal, or newly found demigod, Alcatraz would be a life changing experience, and not in the good way. The stairs were sandwiched between two walls that hugged the railings tightly. I could hold out my hand and have my arm touch the wall easily as I walked down. I couldn't see the bottom of the stairs, which made me even more nervous. I felt like I was about to plunge into a black hole. Something I would never get out of. I looked up at Dean and even he looked like he was second guessing himself. Which, of course, made me feel even better about myself in this situation.
"You ready?" He asked. His voice confirmed my suspicions that he wasn't sure of himself. I scoffed.
"Are you?" He looked at me skeptically and we started to slowly make our way down the stairs. I leaned on him as I walked and used the wall as another support. He pushed against the wall on his side of the staircase and we kept pretty good balance, that is, until we started to descend into the darkness. When the light of the top stairs didn't show any longer, Dean had to stop pushing against his wall to get his lighter out. I heard the sound of the lighter as he ran his thumb along the gear, and with a final click there was a burst of dim light that came from his hand. Seeing the stairs made my life a lot easier. When we got to the bottom of the stairs finally we both relaxed. I looked around the room I was in but it was pitch black, and the light coming from the lighter didn't do much but give me light to see the outline of thing, and even then they weren't distinguishable.
"Is there a light down here?" I asked.
"That would make sense," Dean agreed. He looked to his right, then his left, holding his lighter out so that he could see.
"Ah, here we are," he said. "close your eyes." I shut my eyes tightly, and he switched on the light. Even with my eyes closed I could tell the room got brighter. I scrunched up my nose and mouth as I opened my eyes a crack, only to be welcomed by the stinging sensation of the intensely bright light that was coming over head. I blinked a bit, and the stinging subsided. I found myself in a room that looked to be an infirmary. There were beds lined up against the wall opposite to the one I was standing near. They had curtains that could be wrapped around the beds for privacy. In the middle of the room were tables that held sharp things like surgical scissors and scalpels. I didn't trust those in a prison that held deadly Greek monsters. There were shelves stalked with bottles of pills and vile's of medicine. Along the wall where Dean and I were standing were tabletops with drawers underneath them.
"See?" Said Dean, straightening his posture. "I told you we should have come down here." I looked around, still slightly unsure.
"Here," he said. "Go sit on one of those beds and I'll see if I can find you some things to help with the pain. He led me over to a bed. I climbed onto it and lay down on my stomach, resting my head on the feather pillow that lay there. I let out a groan of satisfaction. At this rate, a stone pillar would have been comfortable to lay on. I heard Dean rummage through the drawers and the selections of pills and medicine there was. I lifted myself from the bed and carefully slipped off my quiver, setting it on the bed side table beside me, along with my bow. Dean shuffled over with his arms full of things, which he set on the table beside him. He looked at me, then at the stuff.
"I'm not completely sure how to use all of this stuff," he said.
"Great,"
"It can't be that hard, can it?" He asked. I didn't answer. I wasn't so sure I wanted a guy who didn't know what he was doing to tend to my wounds. "We'll get Roxy to look over it when we find them," he continued.
"Yeah, hopefully she doesn't shame your patch job too much," I said. Dean grinned.
"Alright, I guess you should take off your shirt," Dean said. He didn't mean to make it sound awkward, but the unsureness of his voice made it sound like one of those inexperienced porno's... Not that I'd seen any, no. Never. Sicko.
"Gods, Dean, no foreplay?" I teased.
"Really, Fletch?" He asked, rolling his eyes.
"Alright, alright, fine. Jeez. So impatient," I said. Dean looked like he'd slap me if he didn't feel like it was his fault I was hurt. I wrestled with my shirt uncomfortably before Dean came over, tired of watching my struggle and helped me out. He hung it over the headboard of the bed. It was ripped in the back, and where the claw marks were. It was soaked with blood, the rest was soaked with sweat. Ew. The sleeves, now torn off, were shredding, and I wondered if I was even going to have a shirt by the end of this. I rested my head back on my pillow and placed my hands on my head as I watched Dean take a cloth and some disinfectant. He poured the liquid onto the cloth and walked over to me. He stared at the claw marks on my back. I hadn't seen them, but they felt like they looked disgusting.
"Man, this is heavy," he said in almost a whisper, the smell of alcohol radiated off the hand he held the cloth in.
"What?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
"The burn literally stopped the bleeding. But godamn, it looks pretty bad," Dean said.
"Stupendous," I said sarcastically, burying my face into the pillow.
"aw, man it's all red and black and-"
"Dean!" I yelled. "I don't want to hear what it looks like, just put the fucking disinfectant on it." I told him. As soon as I had I wished I hadn't. Dean started to gently dab the cloth onto my wound, and when I say gently, I mean I could tell he was trying to go as softly as he possibly could, but every time he brought the alcohol down on the wound I clenched the pillow I found myself holding onto tighter. My knuckles were white. I wailed into the pillow in pain. It felt like he was tearing my skin open again. Every time I groaned or yelled out he would apologize. When he was done with that, the whole left side of my body tingled. Dean then proceeded to fit a large bandage on the wound. He taped it down with surgical tape. I was breathing heavily now. Dean handed me a couple pills and I downed them desperately, wishing I had some Ambrosia. Dean sat down at the foot of the bed I was lying on and sighed. We sat there in relaxing silence for a while, neither of us really knew what to do next. This was the first quest either of us had been on. I had no idea where I could possibly find this Charlie kid. Finding my friends was the first thing that was on my mind. The pain medication Dean had given me was working surprisingly well. The tingling had died down, and my shoulder was back to the numb feeling it had felt before, but I still didn't feel like I was doing too hot. Nectar or Ambrosia would have worked faster for this. I had a feeling I would probably OD on these drugs if I didn't stop taking them. Dean seemed to have the same thought because he put them in his pocket and refused to give me more. Just when Dean and I were beginning to have hope that not every room in this prison was infested with monsters, our luck seemed to turn. A voice came from the top of the stairs opposite to the ones we had come down. A woman. Her voice was smooth, but sent chills down my spine.
"Well, well, well," she said. "What do we have here?"
