City of Angels (and Demons)

Chapter Seven

Dean had done enough sneaking around to get someplace the last thing he wanted was to answer question after question as to why he was snooping around Dr. Bates' operating room. So, thankfully, no one was in sight as he made his way down the halls of the hospital. And the staff he did occasionally notice didn't give him a second glance. There were far more important things on their agendas: saving people, just like him.

Arriving at the operating room, Dean slowed his pace when he saw someone kneeling in front of the door. Attempting to get in. As Dean got closer, he recognized who it was.

Patrick Thule, the other patient.

Dean didn't have to say anything before Patrick jumped like he sat on hot coals and turned. He was definitely not what Dean had expected. Patrick looked nothing like his picture. His hair was a mess, he needed a shave, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was either high on something or he was running on little to no sleep. Dean bet on the no sleep option.

"Who are you?" Patrick demanded, pressing back against the door as if to stay as far from Dean as he could. "I wasn't trying-"

"I'm not security," Dean said. "I'm actually here to help you."

Patrick was instantly suspicious. "Help me?"

Dean pointed at the door. Patrick didn't take his eyes off Dean. "Why are you trying to get in there?" he asked.

Patrick hesitated, but it was obvious he had been wanting to tell someone. "Because I was fine before I went in there," he said. "They told me I was dying. They should have let me die! But then Dr. Clyde showed me the results, told me how much pain..." He trailed off, looking down at the floor.

"Those results were faked," Dean said.

Patrick looked at him with a nod. "It took me a few days to realize that," he said. "But it's too late." He slid down the door to sit on the floor, crestfallen. "It's over. He said it was over."

"He?" Dean asked. "Dr. Clyde?"

Patrick shook his head then pointed at the protection spell plastered above the lock then pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal a similar symbol on his collarbone. Dean didn't know Korean, but he was pretty sure the symbol Patrick had wasn't a protection spell.

"It means Darkness," Patrick said. " 'Darkiplier' isn't really a word and he's always gone by Darkness."

It sounded like Patrick had done a lot of research of his own. "Do you know what's happening here?" Dean asked.

From Patrick's expression, he had been expecting Dean to say he was crazy or something. "Here, right now, I'm probably gonna die," he said. "Dr. Bates won't help me." He dropped his head into his hands. "I can hear him. In my head. Congratulating me." He said those last two words in disgust. He looked up at Dean. "We set it up. He wants something more from me or else I'd already be dead, like the others."

Dean tried to keep up, but this was turning into the ravings of a mad man. But he knew Patrick wasn't crazy. "What's he been telling you?" he asked. "Darkiplier."

"To show him who he really is," Patrick said, getting a far off look in his eyes. "First it was the accident."

The accident...We set it up. "The car crash was your fault," Dean said. "With the others' help." Patrick nodded. Dean couldn't be mad at them for that since it was all Darkiplier's fault. And maybe Bates' and Clyde's as well. "You said 'first.' What else did you do?"

"While Mark was in the hospital, I slipped something into his medicine," Patrick said. "Slow acting. It should kick in today if Dark..." He trailed off, his head thunking back against the door and his body going slack.