"Hey man, try not to worry about it so much. You're doing what you can," Devin said reassuringly the next morning when I told him about my night.

After the ghosts departed, I had searched the dream version of the hospital only to find empty rooms and white halls. Gradually, the scene started to change, switching first to my apartment, then to the various places of Daytonsville I had gone to, and then to my childhood homes.

With each shift, the next one came more quickly until I found myself standing amidst constantly flashing scenarios: all memories from both my past and present slowly becoming jumbled together. I kept finding myself screaming at McGraff, assuming that he was manipulating the nightmare to show it all to me, but I never heard or saw him.

Before I woke up, I had sunk to the ground, hugging my knees and crying as I begged for it to stop. I don't care what was said, Devin was a good guy. He came into my room to alert me that breakfast was being served and when I told him that I was just going to sleep in, he told me, 'Alright, but you know they never put enough food out for breakfast. I was kind of hoping to eat yours too.'

I couldn't help a smile. The thing was, I didn't know if he legitimately wanted more food as I had noticed he had a ravenous appetite, or if he was just trying to help me feel better. Either way, it worked and I reluctantly got out of bed and followed after him. Since I still hadn't felt like talking yet, we sat through the meal silently.

I felt like Devin was allowing the silence because he didn't want to push me, but maybe he had just been waking up. I drank my coffee and let him scarf down the rest of what was on my plate which, like he said, wasn't much. After he was done and returned both our trays for us, he came back and started asking me what was up.

I just shrugged it off at first, not wanting to think about the things I had seen, and he politely went about answering his own questions again like he had during our first encounter. It was close to ten in the morning when I finally told him what had happened.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled with my head hung as I focused on the new cup of coffee in my lap, "I don't know though, maybe she's right. Maybe I should just leave it alone."

"Like fuck she's right!" Devin blurted, causing my head to shoot up, "The way I see it, if they needed you to get him in the first place, then you're needed to get rid of him. And with him refusing to simply kill you, it would make even more sense that you're stronger than them. Why else would he do that if you had nothing to offer him? or at the very least it's because he isn't capable of offing you?"

As I stared at the man in front of me, his words soaked in and pulled me out of the depressive state that had been trying to take over once more. "I think you're right," I breathed.

"Of course I am," he laughed, "So what's the plan now?"

I paused, rubbing my chin as I thought, "As much as I dread it, heading to Ames if I can't find information elsewhere on banishment. "

"You think he'll be expecting that trick again?" Devin asked.

"Probably," my brow furrowed, "Should I focus on weakening him first or something?"

My sounding board pursed his lips, eyes rolling back and forth before he spoke his ideas, "I think so. It would help if you had a partner too."

"Yeah, that would be nice," I admitted, "But I don't think Emma and the others are too keen on working with me right now."

Devin chuckled, "I meant me."

Eyes widening while I contemplated his offer, I realized I wasn't really sure how to take it. I didn't want to put the guy in harm's way and at the same time, I absolutely had to take this demon down so I needed all the assistance I could get. Besides, Devin might be in danger anyway.

McGraff had picked my brain at some point; what was to keep him from knowing how I felt about my new friend? Even if he didn't, there was no telling who the necromancer would be targeting.

"Okay," I agreed, decoding it was safest for Devin to stay near, "I'd appreciate the help. Since we're stuck here for now, we should probably take the time to practice spiritual warfare."

My new partner smiled, "With what you've done so far, I'm sure things are in good hands. But I already told you I should be discharged today."

"Oh," my heart fell, filled with worry, "You need to be really careful then, until we can meet up on the outside. You'll be vulnerable-"

"Sleeping," he finished, "I get it."

"Yeah, but I don't know what his capabilities are, you could be in danger at other times too," I hurried, "So-"

"It'll be fine," he assured with a supportive grin, "Trust me. Have you thought about trying to pull me into your dream? If we're both dreaming at the same time which is supposed to be our spirits traveling..."

"I actually hadn't thought about that," my eyes blinked considerably.

"Devin James?" a voice called into the room, drawing both of our attention.

"Woot!" Devin cheered raising from his seat, "Looks like I'll be leaving as soon as I sign the discharge orders."

"Oh," I whispered, not liking that I was now going to be stuck in the ward without him, or him out there without me, "I guess I'll see you around? I don't know when I'll be let out yet."

"You keep eating and sleeping and telling them that you're trying to work on things, they'll let you out soon," he grinned, "Should I come back to the hospital to look for you or where should I hang around to find you? I don't have a phone or anything so..."

I stood up, almost having forgotten that the guy was going to be homeless once he left the hospital, "If we can get something to write with, I'll give you my address if you just want to check there every so often."

"Sounds good; thanks," he beamed.

It was probably ill-advised to give a stranger- a psychiatric patient at that- my address, but I had spent a few days with him and didn't get a bad vibe. Besides, I didn't have anything of value if he decided to break in and I wasn't worried about him trying to hurt me or anything. If he did, he did, and I'd handle it.

I walked with him to the nurses' station where he signed his papers while one of the workers watched as I used their pen to scribble down a note before handing the contraband back to them. Then I waited for Devin to be done and gave him the paper which he shoved into the pocket of the shorts he had changed into earlier in preparation for his departure.

"Take it easy, Mark," he smiled, reaching both arms around my shoulders to gather me into a hug, "We'll figure it all out."

I had never been the touchy type, but I returned the embrace and patted his back as we both loosened from each other's hold, "Thanks, Devin."

"No problem," he turned and began walking off with the orderly meant to make sure he actually left the ward and that nothing was snuck in or out.

I watched until he was completely past the large doors, his escort locking them tightly and then strolling back in my direction. I sighed and walked into the activity room again. The rest of the day went by terribly slowly.

I considered trying to talk to some of the other patients to pass the time, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up sitting beside the zombie-minded Patricia and viewing more old sitcoms. The meals came and went without me eating much, but at least I ate. When it was finally time for sleep, I hopped into bed gladly.

Now the real work would begin.

As I fell asleep, I thought about Devin and about sitting with him in my apartment and chatting there like we had done here at the ward. When I entered the dream realm, I found myself in the home, but not with him. Instead, I was completely alone. Oh well, having been able to choose the scenery was a good start, I suppose. I made my way to the sofa and got comfortable, closing my eyes and thinking about my new friend again.

After what had to be ten minutes, I opened my eyes and began walking around the apartment to see if he had appeared, just somewhere else. He hadn't. Although it was frustrating, I sat and tried one more time, only to get the same results. Dammit.

Since I had been able to manipulate the setting, I decided to practice changing where I was. I began thinking about the hospital. Not only its reality; also how I had seen it in previous dreams. Initially, I thought nothing happened. However, I soon felt the urge to walk outside my apartment. Opening the front door let in a bright light which I cautiously stepped into.

Fuck yes! That's what I'm talking about!

Traveling through that entry had led me into the psych ward, vacant just as before. Maybe once more, I thought, taking a breath and then walking through one of the bedroom doors to see I was in Ames' living room. I don't know why that had been where my mind went.

Probably because it was a recent, pleasant experience. Either way, when I made it there, I realized I wasn't alone. In that same cushy chair where she sat during our conversation, was the kind albeit strange woman sleeping curled up in blankets like a burrito.

I smiled at the sight, immediately shaking my head to remind myself that the possibility of it not actually being her loomed. I could see her face, though, and I had no sense of anxiety as I approached her, unlike how I had felt when I had been tricked. Right before my hand touched the fabric on her shoulder, however, I retreated.

If this was the real Ames, like I was in her dream or vice versa, I didn't want her to see me. Instead, I backpedaled to get away before she awoke and spotted me. I had made it back to her door and turned around when I heard a voice.

"Mark?"

Shit. I stayed where I was, unmoved, hoping that if I didn't spin to face her, she would assume I wasn't really me or at least consider it. Unfortunately, I was greeted with a hand on my shoulder, her voice repeating my name.

"Mark, what are you doing here?"

Fuck shit fuck fuck! Not knowing what else to do, I jerked the door in front of me open and jumped through, not focusing any intent on where I wanted it to lead. As I leapt, I noted how the ground had fallen out from under me and I was dropping through the air, finally thudding onto an old, musty and dirty shag carpet: a rug that I'd know anywhere. I lifted my head from the floor, slowly pushing myself onto my knees and then up to my feet. It was my home from when I was a kid.

"Alright, you little pussy," someone I hadn't heard in years growled.

It was accompanied by tiny feet padding through the room, running past me as their owner desperately grabbed at the handle of a door. It was me. I couldn't say my exact age, but I knew I was younger than ten. I observed as the little me tried to wiggle the door open, not understanding that it was bolted shut much higher up than I could reach. Breathing heavily suddenly and filled with intense, enveloping fear, I realized I had become the kid again.

"Running from me? HUH?!?" my father's voice boomed as he entered.

I glanced back at him, tears streaming down my face as I my efforts to escape remained fruitless. The man, in a fit of anger, rushed up behind me and grabbed hold of my arm, tearing it away so forcefully that I could feel my elbow pop. My bone began to ache and I wondered if he had broken my arm as I cried out in pain.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, "I'll teach ya to run from me, you little shit."

"Please," I began sobbing, my face completely soaked with salt, "Let me go, please! I'm sorry!" I begged.

"Too late for that, you fucking worthless excuse for a- STOP FUCKING FIGHTING ME!" he yelled, pulling at me, jerking me every different direction to shake away any struggle I had left.

I kept crying, pleading. My child mind was reliving the terror of the incident while my adult mind remembered what happened next. As he drug me into the next room, my vision went black and I could hear my own screams, the ones that had only been heard by uncaring ears. As the pain of the experience overwhelmed me, I dug into myself, finding the courage to take control.

"STOP!" I yelled, the power of my grown body coming back to me as my vision returned as well.

I saw him then, beating me with the old steel cane and I threw my hand upward from my position cowering on the floor under the agony of the welts he had given. Grasping onto the weapon, I rose to my feet, my body easily rising taller than the evil man as I forced him back against the wall.

I ripped the cane from his hands, turning the attack around and striking him over and over until it was him that was cowering, begging me to stop. But I wouldn't. I kept hitting over and over, blood splattering onto the wall behind him, onto the khaki slacks he wore, and onto my face. I gave blow after blow until his face was no longer recognizable, skull completely caved in.

And I continued even after that, releasing the frustrations and fury of a lifetime as I shouted,
"STOP FUCKING HITTING ME!"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING CUNT!"
"STOP!"

Stop.