February 29

Chapter 18

Stacy backed up against the trunk of the tree, her breath coming out in rapid, short puffs. Her eyes widened, her mind doing a 360 and completely jumbling together. What she had just seen truly couldn't have happened in the realms of reality. She went over it repeatedly, trying to explain to herself how it could have worked. Maybe he was a Super Saiyan. Maybe he was secretly a Tailed Beast. Maybe he was a Hollow, a Vasto Lorde. But even her anime explanations didn't fit here. It wasn't like that. It was nothing like that. How had he done that, made the bullet crumple like that? It was if the bullet itself had shattered against his very presence. And the way he'd killed that other boy: the fire, the smell of burning meat, the boy's dying wails, followed by Ethan's almost satisfied laughter. Stacy had a lot of ground to fear Ethan now, after that little episode. She wondered if maybe the dot was changing everyone, making them super or something. But then again, she didn't feel any change lately, and if that true, people would probably start to defend themselves a against the dogs.

They were on the ground now, Ethan pinned beneath Dean's knees, yelling at one another. She could easily make out what they were saying, but she couldn't believe her ears, couldn't comprehend the sudden shifts in Ethan's character.

"Let me go!" she heard him hiss venomously. "We need to finish him."

She wondered distantly if he had meant three of them, but she doubted that. She and Dean had contributed nothing to the other boy's death, and she had a feeling that Ethan's problems were more internal then external.

That was followed my angry shouts by Dean, who was shaking Ethan violently. Stacy couldn't imagine the pain be was going through, with his broken arm and all. She decided that it was her place to help him, even though she didn't like him. She stood from the tree and walked shakily towards the boys, doing her best to ignore the boy's burning corpse.

"That's it, Ethan!" Dean yelled, grabbing his collar. "We are going back to my house immediately! I don't care what you do!"

"Release me slug, or I'll kill you too," Ethan snarled, his eyes blazing.

"You did that? You realize you killed someone!?"

"I didn't mean that. It's not me. I-I didn't know what I was doing!" Ethan pleaded. "Just, let's forget this and keep moving. We have to go. Now."

"Yeah, go home. We are not staying out here for a second longer."

"You don't get to dictate that, you idiot," Ethan said icily, his eyes setting like dark fires. "You think I care about you, or her?" His eyes slid to Stacy. "I'll smile and laugh as you burn before my very eyes. I'll throw the gasoline and match on your wailing figures myself. Now let go."

"What are you saying?" Dean asked. "Are you bipolar?"

Ethan stared hard at Dean's neck, and suddenly, Dean cried out, staring at his Adam's apple. Stacy's eyes almost popped out of her head. She could barely see it, but it was definitely there, a small little scorch mark the size of a pebble, of it he'd been burned by a cigarette. Did, did Ethan do that?

Dean leaned forward, shaking a bit. "You see? You what's happening? You-you're going crazy. You're doing impossible things. We need to get you somewhere safe. You're transforming or something. Let's go back to my house. We turned on all the lights, remember? It should be safe there, right?"

Ethan smiled darkly and opened his mouth to reply, but not before twisting his face to the side and groaning. After a small fit of writhing, he looked back at them. To Stacy's surprise, Ethan laxened, pale and completely drained of energy. He stared blankly into Dean's eyes, his own partially closed.

Ethan just gazed, then slowly shook his head. "We can't-we can't do that. We still have to go--"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it! You can't handle it out here. Can't you see what this place is doing to you?"

"I know," he whispered, contorting his face and taking a deep breath. "I understand, but we have to go anyway. For our own sakes."

"That's ridiculous. Put your ego to the side for a second and see the bigger picture here. Being out here is dangerous, for all of us. It's making us turn against each other, and these dogs are getting closer by the day. Don't you get it? Being out here is killing you and everyone around you."

"I know."

Stacy watched Dean's face scrunch up in rage as he gripped Ethan's collar tightly, practically flinging him up and down. "If you know, then why are you still insistent that we stay here?!"

Stacey watched as freed his hand and twisted Dean's death grip away, crawling from under him and sitting up straight. He sighed, looking years older, grabbing at his temples. "Please, Dean. I don't want to go to the hospital." He winced and gripped his forehead, beads of sweat trickling down his cheeks. "Look, everything is telling me that what you and Stacy say makes sense. We could walking into a trap. We don't know what to expect. I even agree with you, I really do. But please, I'm begging you, let's just, let's just give it what it wants."

"What what wants?" Stacy whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"I couldn't tell you," Ethan answered angrily, "so stop asking. You're just going to have to trust me. We have to get there, or it will kill us all."

"What will kill us all?" Stacy pressed. "Can you answer the questions without any gaps? Who is it we're talking about? Is someone stalking you?"

"Look, I don't know exactly who or what--"

"You have to let us help you," Dean cut in. "Tell us."

Ethan glanced at Dean, then Stacy, his eyes searching. He bit his lip and gazed at the ground, so deep in thought that Stacy could picture him boring imaginary holes into the dirt. She wondered what he was thinking of, what could be causing this erratic, cold behavior. Maybe he really was crazy.

He looked up in realization, his eyes wide, fearful. He swallowed and glanced down at his hands. "The Aura."

And then his eyes rolled up, and he went unconscious.