February 29

Chapter 23

Stacy, along with the other two, huddled awkwardly together on a long, soft three-seat couch, staring uncertainly at the man sitting across from them. They were all quiet. Maybe because no one felt like talking. Or maybe no one knew what to say. Ethan was still, his eyes wide and rooted to the carpet. Dean was looking suspiciously at the man, his hand around the couch arm. Stacy herself felt tongue-tied and confused, like she was sitting in a room full of strangers. And the man...he just looked smug and knowing. As if he were expecting this kind of thing to happen. He smirked.

"Anyone hungry?" he suddenly said, punching the silence in the gut. The sudden sound caused her to jump, then realize how hungry she really was. Averting her gaze from Dean, she nodded.

The man stood from the couch and headed back towards what Stacy would assume was a kitchen. A couple minutes of shuffling, clinking of dishes, the buzz of a microwave, and the slosh of liquid later, he emerged, holding a TV dinner and a glass of purple juice. Stacy gratefully accepted the food and dug in.

Dean broke his silence as soon as the man sat back down. "Who are you?" he asked, making a weak attempt to mask the accusation from his voice.

"My name is a Mark," the man replied, rubbing his forehead. "And you two?"

"Stacy," Stacy mumbled behind meatballs. She eyed Dean and said his name, to which he shot her a glare. She glowered back.

"What do you want with us?" Dean asked second, folding his arms. "I mean, the only thing I remember outside of the attack was Ethan telling me that we have to leave my house, again. He was drawn to you somehow."

"That's because I'm the only one who can save him," Mark replied simply. "At least, for the time being. Eventually, he'll have to do it himself."

"Save him from what?"

"Come on guys," Mark whispered, staring at Dean intently. "He's your friend. Don't know for how long, but he is your friend. And I know you know that he hasn't been behaving...normally."

"You don't know that," Dean hissed.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I know a lot of things. Some that you might not even know."

"You're assuming."

"Why would I do that? Think I would let strangers in my house? In a time like this? No sane man would do that."

"Maybe you want to kill us."

"Kill you?" He laughed. "I don't have the energy, resources, or heart to do that. I'm not evil. Not like," his gaze wandered to Ethan, still withdrawn, "not like some people I know."

This time, Dean laughed. "A lot of weird things have happened in the past week. Stuff not everyone knows. You might need that information to help us."

"Stuff like what?" Mark asked, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. "How Ethan talks in his sleep? How he almost beat you to death that one time on the highway? How you got that little burn on your throat? Or how the other Mark was burned to death as Ethan watched, smiling? How he desperately wants to go to the hospital, even though we all know what lies there?" He shook his head. "There's nothing that's happened that I don't know about."

She stared at the man in wide-eyed disbelief. There was no way he could have known all that. Not unless he'd been with them. She suddenly began to fear him. Dean smiled uncomfortably. "Have you been stalking us?" Dean asked. Stacy lost it then, hitting Dean's arm and sending a look his way. Maybe they should actually listen.

"I know there have been a lot of...events where Ethan seems out of character," Mark said slowly. "I know why. Don't you guys want some answers? In fact, no. That was a dumb question. Of course you want answers. And I'm willing to give them to you."