I Have Two Faces; Blurry is the One I'm Not

|nine|

"Why do you have keys to their apartment?" Sam hisses as I unlock the door to 5G, angling my arm around the caution tape.

The door swings open and I manuever through the caution tape, not looking into the room but at Dean and Sam, silently thanking both my biological family and various foster families for continuing my gymnastics lessons. "I used to be friends with their old roommate, Jess. She gave me a key to their place when she got sick so that if she needed me during the day, she could text me and I could just unlock the door and come in." Sam and Dean weave, with great difficulty, through the caution tape. "When her sister moved her out, I didn't know what to do with it, so I held onto it."

"You kept it...." Sam trails, looking around the apartment with eyes the size of saucers.

"Yeah, it's like a sort of like - holy shit." I breathe out as I look around the living room, my heart stopping dead in my chest.

Blood.

Gallons of the stuff. Splattered all over the walls, all over the shredded brown sofa, stuffing torn out of the cushions and turned a deep burgundy, clustered together in small puddles of blood. There were spatters on the ceiling, bright red streaks in sharp contrast to the bright white walls. The ceiling fan, although no longer turning, was dripping blood, the mahogany blades oozing red from the edges, the steady drip-drop of the blood slamming into a pool of blood like a sort of sick drum beat. The end tables were both over turned, their lamps shattered, the wall mounted television a broken heap of scrap lying in the floor. The metallic smell of it burns my nostrils.

"The police ruled this a murder-suicide?" I murmur, my stomach churning as I take a step forward, nearly stepping in a puddle of thick, viscous red lyric.

I feel Dean come up behind me. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Police try to cover up as much as they can when they can't explain it." He gently massages my shoulders, but I shrug him off as Blurry's presence blossoms in my system. I step around the pool of blood as Blurry seems to sit behind my eyes, taking in what I see, the second I see it.

I sense terror in Blurry.

"What's the matter?"  I ask Him, a knot of fear growing besides the knot of disgust.

Dean answers before Blurryface does. "The Daeva was here."

I take in a sharp breath, looking up at Dean, panic shooting through my veins as if injected through a needle. "The one that-"

"Dean, what if it was looking for her?" Sam's  tone is dark and alarmed as he cuts me off. His eyes dance back and forth between his brother and I as the gears in his head start to turn rapidly. "The Daeva attacking her and her getting away. It's not a mistake that it got the inhabitants of the apartment closest to hers. It was mad. She wasn't in her apartment so this is the best it could do."

"I don't get it." I murmur to no one in particular.

"Well you must've royally pissed someone off-" Sam starts to holler, but I wave him off. Or, rather, Blurry does.

"No," Blurry comments using my voice, "it could've come back for me after I got away. But it waited until I was gone. And it killed them. It could've gone into my apartment and killed Abbadon. But it didn't." Blurry turns around for us to face Sam. "It didn't come for me. This was a warning." Blurry brings my hand to my chin and taps it thoughtfully. "But who would rather it wait to kill me-"

"Blurry. What if it goes after Nikki and Austin?"  I'm swimming in a sea of hysteria within my own mind, drowning in a sudden onslaught of thoughts and flashes of my only two decidedly alive - or undead, technically - friends, shredded and dead inside of The Gauntlet.