Darkened Warriors - Lost Spirits

Chapter 9 Part 2

Author's note : That scene I mentioned in the beginning. This is the chapter it starts in. Kids, you've been warned. 

“I don't know, I don't.” I really didn't and I couldn't bring myself to offer him false comfort.

He rolled out of my arms and curled up into a tight ball. I moved in behind him, put one of my legs over his and slid my arm through the small space between his arms and chest and gripped his hands as tightly as I could.

“It hurt, so much, I can still feel it.”

I could hear his teeth chattering together, his shaking was becoming more violent. He tried to pull his hands away from mine, when I wouldn't let go I felt his nails start digging into the skin on the inside of his arm. I'd had powerful visions before, the stronger they are the harder it is to bring yourself back from them. I had years of training to prepare me for visions, Dean didn't. He was going into psychic shock, if I didn't get him to calm down and readjust to actual reality, not what he had seen, there was a distinct possibility that he could have a mental break.

“I know honey, I know. Listen to me, focus on what I'm saying.”

“I can't, can't.....it's not the end, but why...”

“Shh, shh, slow your breathing,” I started slowly stroking his hair.

“Listen...” I started singing a Healing Song my father had taught me. It took a few minutes but Dean's shaking started subsiding, his chest heaved less and less. I kept singing. As the words of the song continued to drift into the air around me I sunk, once again, into a light trance. I have several calming and healing stones placed around my room and I reached out to them, bonding with their vibrations and slowly knit them together over and around Dean and I. Each new thread I pulled together and brushed over Dean drifted down and rested on top of him, attracting his scattered and frayed Warrior Spirit to them, giving his Spirit something to cling to, to rest upon and gather it's strength back.

Incoherence eventually became coherent the longer I sang, the muscles in his arms relaxed, then his back, the chattering of his teeth lessened. His breathing slowed, and deepened. I had no idea how I was able to get words out, my throat burned with every syllable I uttered. I knew I was still dehydrated but I sang until I was sure he was out of danger, then quietly trailed off into silence. I was afraid that if I abruptly stopped it would be too jarring for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Get some water, you sound like you're in pain.”

“I'll be fine,” I croaked.

“Go, please,” he said. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

I was afraid if I left, he'd be stupid and stubborn and try to walk out of my house, “Only if you promise to stay right here.”

“Promise.”

I untangled myself from him and tried to stand up. I really did, but my legs refused to work and I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed with the room spinning around me.

I heard him shift on the bed and felt his hand on my shoulder. “You lie down, I'll go.”

“No, you..”

“Can stand,” he interrupted, “Unlike you.”

I didn't have enough strength to fight about it and crawled back into the bed.

When he returned and handed me a warm cup instead of a cold glass I was surprised. “What's this?”

“I found your stash of tea, threw a ton of lemon and honey into it, and a bit of whiskey.” A flash of white teeth appeared in the darkness as he smiled, “I brought just water too, there's a pitcher and glass on the table next to you.”