Fear Itself

It also became clear to us that the Americans were not very prompt because they still had not arrived at the Hangar, even though Dean and I were at least an hour and a half late. Nobody seemed too shaken up by it, not even Sam, who was usually shaken up by small gusts of wind. Instead, we were gathered around the large screen as Alfred played the global news for us. Harland McCabe came to us like he usually did: tight-lipped smile and bulging eyes. Tonight, he brought us something new.

Dean and I stood amidst the crowd, his arm around me as we gazed at the screen, unable to tear our eyes away from the sight of a cold room with stainless steel walls. In the center of the room was a chair, and a man in a white coat soon appeared, wheeling in a tray. It almost happened too soon. It was in real time, but they ushered their latest victim in too quickly for me to react. My arms wrapped tightly around myself in a bit of a hug.

There was a point at which I had to clench my eyes shut because I knew it was coming. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. My stomach was churning, making me feel queasy. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I broke into a sweat because that always happened soon after. Thankfully, Dean must have seen because turned me and pulled my face against him, doing his best to cover my ears.

“Can’t we turn this rubbish off?” His voice was muffled, but I knew it was more of a demand than a question. “The League televises this shit to scare us. Why the hell would you put it on?”

“Fine,” Elijah huffed before he pressed a button on the control panel. “I just thought maybe seeing what the League broadcasted might help us.”

“It’s all lies, anyway,” Dean snapped. I felt him squeeze me. His hands released as the screen turned blank.

Almost like clockwork, the sound of the elevator clanking and clamoring it’s way down the chute had all of our heads turning to see who would emerge. Alex was the first to have gone to retrieve his group. Shane was due to be following him with a second team any moment now. We all stood with bated breath as the steel panel began to lift, reflecting light upon the shiny, silver insides of the lift. Alex stood at the head of the pack, perhaps a group of five following behind him: three men, two women.

The man standing just past Alex’s right shoulder was unmistakably Casper Collins. A set of worn and faded dog tags jangled around his neck on a chain that had obviously seen better days. A pair of thick, black reading glasses rested upon the bridge of his nose, framing his pale blue eyes and accenting the gold rim around his pupil. Small amounts of stubble formed a sort of strap around his chin. When he looked our way, he shot me a cheeky grin with a flash of slightly yellowed teeth (not necessarily uncommon around here, especially if a West Londoner).

Alex opened his mouth like he was going to introduce them, but Casper Collins pushed straight past him, physically shoving Alex back with his forearm to march over to Dean, exclaiming, “Well, fuck me, if it isn’t the king himself!” They embraced in possibly the manliest hug I had ever seen in my life, even going so far as to pound their fists against each other’s backs just moments before releasing their grips.

“In the flesh!” Dean laughed right back at him as the two exchanged a hearty handshake. After they let go, Dean put an arm around me and pulled me close into his side. “And this is my wife—“

“Sam!” Casper exclaimed and tugged me straight out of Dean’s grasp and into a near-smothering sort of hug that felt more like suffocation than anything else. In the five seconds that Casper managed to strangle me, I caught a whiff of the foul combination of sea salt and sweat.

With my face smashed into his shoulder, I barely could protest or correct his mistake. Squeezing me around the shoulders, Casper rambled on, “This whole time, I thought you were Dean’s brother, but you’re his wife?” He released me but kept a grip on my shoulders as he stepped back to take a good look at me. Casper’s face lit up with approval, and he gave me a crisp nod. “Damn, you’re a fox,” he turned to Dean with his eyebrows raised. “I approve, my man. You’ve got a queen, that’s what you got.” He shook me a little, his grin widening until his eyes squinted up.

When Casper released his grip, Dean roped me back toward him again. A wave of relief washed over me, but the shock hadn’t quite subsided yet. More interested in having his ego stroked than correcting Casper’s error, Dean squeezed me and laughed, “Yeah, she’s a real looker, ain’t she?”

“Stunning, honestly,” Casper agreed with a nod and folded his arms over his chest, only looking at Dean like I wasn’t there.

“Babe, why are you talking like that?” I asked quietly, not wanting the whole conversation to be heard. Dean wasn’t on the same page, judging by the perplexed look crossing his face when he tilted his head my way.

“Like what?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You said ain’t,” I explained.

He merely laughed. “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head and immediately turned back to Casper. “She’s adorable.”

Casper’s grin never quite faded from his face. I thought it might get stuck like that. “She definitely doesn’t look like a Sam.”

“I… I’m not—“ I stammered, but a voice from the back of the crowd cut me off.

“That’s not Sam,” an unrecognizable English voice piped up. Emerging from within the group, an older man, perhaps just a few years older than my father, strode forward. Worn boots scuffed against the floor. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of a tattered, beige trench coat riddled with stains and holes. When he came closer, his blue eyes flickered in the light. “Sam is a boy,” the man said. He was shorter than Casper by a few inches, but he was just slightly taller than me. “Sam is my son.”

Suddenly, all the voices seemed to stop. The room was silent, save for the sound of soft whirs and beeps of machinery in the background. The Hangar was never truly quiet, but it felt silent now. It felt cold, and still, and silent. Dean’s expression hardened into solid stoicism, trying to bite back the rage I could feel in his pulse. His heart was the drum of war stirring in his chest, and he was using all the restraint he had to keep from pouncing at the gaunt man with sandy blonde hair standing before us: Landon Cassidy.

“It’s been a long time, Dean,” Landon said with a slight smile and bright eyes.

“Eighteen years,” Dean muttered. “Eighteen years too long.”

From our right, a steel panel slid open, and Avery came out of the dark room within. Even Avery stopped dead in his tracks to stare at Landon. Their eyes met in a strange sort of glance. Landon’s eyes glowed with nostalgia, but Avery’s face showed little sign of any emotion at all. Most people turned to look at Avery. Dean took this opportunity instead to leave with Casper.

“Avery?” Landon inquired with curiosity pouring from his voice. “Could it be?” Avery’s gaze didn’t falter in the slightest. All he gave Landon was a brief nod, but Landon’s grin sparkled in the yellow light. “You’ve changed,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Avery grumbled.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Landon told him, grin melting into a softer smile. “We should go for a walk.”

“Don’t think so,” Avery grunted, shaking his head. He took a few steps in my direction but remained a few feet away.

Landon’s eyebrows furrowed over his eyes: the cold blue of steel, much like the walls of the base he had created. “We used to go for walks all the time,” Landon said with a quiet sigh. “Avery, what happened?”

“I grew up,” he huffed, leaning against a nearby table.

A shallow sigh escaped Landon as he rubbed a hand over his chest. His eyes fell for just a moment, but they soon lifted and met my gaze. I saw them brighten once more, now vibrant and glowing. “And who might you be?”

Blinking, I looked him straight in the eye. His gaze wasn’t disconcerting in the slightest. In fact, it was almost the exact opposite: inviting. A tiny smile curled onto my lips. “I’m Tali,” I told him.

“Tali,” he mused. “Lovely name. You sound just like a princess.” A brief look of intrigue flickered over his face. “Is that short for anything?”

“Thalia.” I nodded, smiling a little wider. “My full name is Thalia.”

“Got a last name to go with that?” Landon asked.

“Cassidy,” I blurted out without a single hesitation, but Landon didn’t seem pleased with that answer.

He shook his head adamantly. “No, no, no,” he refused. “Your real one.”

“Um, it’s Giroux,” I murmured. “Thalia Giroux.”

“Thalia Giroux,” Landon repeated slowly as his eyes wandered in thought. His right hand rubbed his chin before his entire face bulged with epiphany. “Thalia Giroux! Little Thalia Giroux!” he exclaimed in wonder. “You know, the last time I saw you, you weren’t even walking yet.”

A lopsided grin made it’s way onto my face when I chuckled a little. I didn’t quite know how to react to his enthusiasm and excitement. He finally looked at me again with his mouth slightly agape. “You married my son.” He was so struck by this thought that he had to repeat himself. “You married my son.”

Speaking of his son, I could hear Dean’s footsteps fast approaching, thudding against the cold, tiled floor. “Yeah, she did,” he snarled, his voice sharp and stinging with aggression all aimed at his startled father. Dean’s arm snaked around and pulled me against him so tight that I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. “What part of she’s my wife didn’t you get the first time?”

“Forgive me,” Landon sighed quietly. “It’s quite a lot to try and wrap my head around so quickly, Dean.”

“I think it’s pretty simple,” Dean huffed. “She’s my wife.” My fingertips began to quiver when he pulled me even closer. I felt smothered and about two inches from being crushed in his grasp. I wanted nothing more than to get away from the entire situation. Everything was confusing and uncomfortable. Thankfully, I felt Avery grab me by the wrist and tug me away from Dean.

“‘Ey, Princess. What d’you say we get some air?” he muttered. Without a second thought, I nodded so hard I thought my head would roll straight off my neck.

“I’d love to!” I squeaked, shifting my grasp to take Avery’s hand and practically sprint for the elevator chute.