𖥔 ՞ ˖࣪  ٪  ˖ ݁ . ؛ ៹ ָ࣪  ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ 🏹 ꜝꜞ
✧── XXI ;'- reapers keepers!
📼 ( 5 STEPS TO FORGIVENESS )

SEASON   1 ;   EPISODE 12┈•
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
𓍢 ━━ ❪ ACT ONE OF BOHEMIAN ❫ ˖୧
❝ OH, EXCUSE ME, PSYCHO WONDER! ❞

𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄, blowing up a glove to distract himself while they waited for the doctor's results. Dean sat on the hospital bed, looking dazed in thought. He kept narrowing his eyes at Bowie, who played with the blow-up glove like a child.

"So, you really feel okay?" Sam asked again.

"I feel fine, Sam," Dean muttered.

Bowie continued his pacing, "Until you drop dead," He says, feeling riled up, "I mean, we don't know the premises of cheating death. I don't believe in the whole 'The Lord chose you' bullsh—"

"Well, according to all your tests," The nurse comes in, looking at the scans, "There's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but still it's strange, it does happen."

"What do you mean strange?" Dean pressed.

She hums, "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, 27, athletic. Out of nowhere, has a heart attack."

Bowie comes to an abrupt stop in his pacing, the glove in his hand popping in his fist and making the others jump.

"Erm, thanks Doc," Dean smiles, waiting for her to leave the room before turning to Bowie, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Maybe it's a coincidence," Sam denies, shaking his head, "People's hearts give out all the time."

Bowie shakes his head, "No, they don't. Like, thirty-four point four percent of men died from a heart attack as of 2003 to now. It happens but it's not common for men in that age range unless they have severe health conditions," He educates, "And you heard the Doctor, that man was a healthy athlete."

Sam groaned, "Look, Bow, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved Dean's life?"

Bowie crossed his arms, "Because he's taking others lives to do it, Sam. You can't just expect us to turn a blind eye."

Dean stands up, "I can't shake this feeling. When I was healed, I just— It felt wrong," He explains, shrugging on his leather jacket, "I felt cold, and for a second, I saw someone. This old man. I'm telling you guys, it was a spirit."

"If there was something there, I think I would've seen it," Sam defends, "I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

"Sam, don't invalidate our brothers feelings like that," Bowie, ever-so-loudly, whispers to Sam, shaking his head.

Dean scoffs, "Oh, excuse me, psychic wonder. You're just gonna need a little faith on this one." Dean never looked so serious, "Sam, Bowie, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

"I believe you, man." Bowie nods.

Dean reaches up and grabs his shoulder, "Don't touch me," Bowie slapped his hand away.

Sam scoffs a laugh at them, "Yeah, all right. So, what do you wanna do?"

Dean thinks, "Why don't you go check out the heart attack guy. Bow and I will visit the Reverend."

Bowie instantly shakes his head, roughly back and forth, "No, absolutely not." Dean pinches his shoulder in, "No, absolutely sure, sure."

*·˚ ༘ ➳〔 𝙗𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 〕 ࿐ ࿔*:

𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 against Dean on the small couch in Reverend Roy's living room. Sue Ann glared sharply at him from the other side of the table, masking it with a smile as she poured herself a cup of ice tea.

She must've been still upset about Bowie cussing at her yesterday.

Well deserved, in his opinion.

"I feel great," Dean says, "Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann responds, "Miracles come so often around Roy."

"When did they start? The Miracles." Dean asked.

Roy looked happy to retell the story, "Woke up one morning stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer, told me I had maybe a month. So, we prayed for a miracle."

Bowie felt a bitterness stem at his words, holding back a scoff.

"I was weak, but I told Sue Ann to keep right on praying. I went into a coma. Doctor said I wouldn't wake up, but I did and the cancer was gone," Roy explains, pulling off his glasses, "If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it."

"What? And suddenly you have to touch of God?" Bowie asked sarcastically.

Roy paused, "I discovered I could heal people afterwards, yes. God's blessed me in many ways. And this is just the beginning."

"And his flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann adds.

"Oh, I bet you love that," Bowie smiled sarcastically to her.

Dean pressed the heel of his shoe into his toes, causing him to bite his tongue.

"Can I ask you one last question?" Dean asked.

"Of course you can."

"Why me?" He says, "Out of all the sick people, why save me?"

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me." Roy smiles, "I looked into your heart and you just. . .stood out from all the rest."

Dean leans forward, "What did you see in my heart?"

"A young man with an important purpose," He responds, "A job to do and it isn't finished. And you're not alone," Roy turns his head to Bowie, "I see something in you too."

Bowie leans back, "Oh yeah? What?"

"Something bright," He nods, "Your whole body just glows up in somethin' special. Like your purpose is something cosmic."

He hummed, standing up, "Only thing cosmic about me are the brownies I eat, thank you for your time. Come on, De."

The pair was escorted out of the house by Sue Ann. Bowie tugged at the hem of his red jacket in annoyance, glancing up just as Layla came walking up the staircase.

She smiled at them, "Dean. Bowie, hey!" She turns to the eldest, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel good. Cured, I guess," Dean responds, "What are you doing here?"

She motioned toward her mother, that was coming toward them, "You know, my mom. She wanted to talk to the Reverend."

"Layla," Sue Ann greets.

"Yes. I'm here again," She says.

"Oh, I'm sorry," She responds, not looking sorry in the slightest, "Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

Layla's mother looked furious, "Sue Ann, please. This is our sixth time. He's got to see us!"

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation," Sue Ann says, "And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Ms. Rourke."

She goes back up the stairs and closes the door.

Ms. Rourke turns to face the brothers in anger. Bowie steps a bit in front of Dean, ready for the backlash the woman was clearly ready to throw. He was sure Dean carried the guilt enough without people like her attacking him.

And Bowie would be damned if Ms. Rourke had something to say.

"Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted," She gravels.

"Mom, stop!"

"No, Layla, this is too much!" She says, "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you, strangers who don't even believe! I just can't pray any harder!"

"That doesn't give you the right to blame others for your misfortune," Bowie responds with an aggressive snap, arms crossed over his chest, "You've been to every service, then you'd remember my brother telling the Reverend to pick someone else, and he didn't. Back off."

Ms. Rourke took a surprised step back.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"I have this thing," She says softly, looking embarrassed.

"It's a brain tumor," Her mother cuts in, "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say. . ." Layla places a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Dean mutters.

Layla smiled, "It's okay."

"No, it isn't." She turns around to face Dean, "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

Bowie clenched his jaw, hands balled tight at his side, "Come on, Dean." He grumbled, pulling him away from the house.

"She's right. . ." Dean says lightly, pulling out of the lot.

"She's wrong," Bowie responds, "You deserve to live as much as the next person."

"But Layla—"

"As much as the next person," He repeats firmly.

Dean paused, "You got a bone to pick with God or something?" He teased, glancing at him, "No, but seriously, every time Big G is mentioned you get all upset. Makes me think you were a bible thumper in your past life."

Bowie scoffs a laugh, "I'm fine, it's just. . ." He hesitates, not knowing what would happen if he opened up to Dean about something, "I just feel cheated, I guess," He admits, "If he is real. I mean, if there is really proof that he's out there then. ." He sighed out, "I don't know what I believe anymore, it's just easier to think he made a mistake with me, you know?"

Dean hums in surprise, tapping on his steering wheel in thought, "You should take a page out of your own book. What you said to Ms. Rourke. It doesn't give you the right to blame others for your misfortune," He quotes, "In this case, others being the man upstairs— who I don't believe in."

Bowie looks out of the window, "I don't mind letting God take accountability for everything that's wrong with me," He says, shrugging, "Blaming myself for what happened doesn't do anything but dig myself into a hole," He turns to Dean with a firm expression, "I know it's not my fault, I also know exactly who to blame but they're not here right now, so I guess I'll blame the metaphysical."

He pinched his lips together at Bowie's words, but said nothing else on the subject.

*·˚ ༘ ➳〔 𝙗𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 〕 ࿐ ࿔*:

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 to the motel they found Sam at the table in front of his laptop, stacks of papers at his side with a deep frown on his face. The middle child made his way toward the first bed he saw and threw himself face first against it.

"What'd you find out?" Dean asked him.

"I'm sorry," Sam responds, not making eye contact. He looked kicked over something, like looking anywhere but his lap would get him in trouble.

"Sorry about what?" Dean says lightly.

He sighed, "Marshall Hall died at 4:17."

Bowie's head shot up, "Was that the exact time Dean was healed?"

Sam nods, "I put together a list of everyone Roy has healed. Six people over the past year. And I cross-checked them with the local orbits," He hands the papers to Dean, "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. "

"They died from the same symptoms," Bowie mutters, reading them over Dean's shoulder, who sat next to him, "So, if someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer."

"Bowie's right. Somehow, Le Grange is trading a life for another."

Bowie slams the papers down, "Am I not a genius?"

Dean frowns, "So, Marshall Hall died to save me?"

Sam grimaced, "Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway and someone else would've been healed."

He stands up abruptly, turning sharply to Bowie, "You never should've brought me here."

"Hey, woah now," Bowie frowns, sensing the argument. "I was just trying to save your life."

"Some guy is dead now because of me!" He yells.

"He didn't know," Sam defused, "The thing I don't understand is, how is Roy doing it? How is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean responds, "Something else is doing it for him. The old man I saw onstage. I didn't want to believe it, but deep down I knew it."

"Knew what?" Sam pressed, "What are you talking about."

"Bow?" Dean turns to him, knowing he was connecting the dots.

Bowie chewed at his thumb, his eyes flickering back and forth between the lore he knew, "There's only one thing that can give and take a life the way Roy seems to be doing. We're dealing with a Reaper."

Dean nods, "Exactly."

The brothers had stacked up on every piece of lore they could find on Reapers. Huddled together the brothers gathered around the table sharing what they found and telling the other why they're wrong. Within the hour, they had narrowed it down.

"Wait," Sam rubs his eyes, "You really think it's the Grim Reaper?- like Angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, no, not the Reaper. A Reaper," Dean corrects, "There's Reaper lore in every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them."

"Yeah but you said you saw a dude in a suit," Sam recalls.

Bowie rolled his shoulders back, "Is he not allowed to step into casual wear sometimes? Maybe he wants to feel professional."

Dean nods, "Yeah, you think he should've been working the black robe thing? You said it yourself. The clock stopped, right?" He holds up a printed picture, "Reapers stop time. You can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

"Maybe," Sam sighed.

"There's nothing else it could be," Dean pressured, "The question is, how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"That cross," Sam announced.

"What?" Bowie asked, itching at his ear.

"There was this cross. I noticed it in the church tent," Sam continues, "I knew I had seen it before," He shorts through Bowie's tarot cards, then hands one to Dean.

"A tarot?" Dean frowned.

"It makes sense," Sam says, "I mean Tarot dates back to the early Christian era, right? When some priests were using magic and a few of them veered into the dark stuff. Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it."

"So we think Roy is using black magic to bind the Reaper," Bowie concludes, "Because if that's the case then it's like trying to cap a tornado with a kite."

Dean gets up to place his cup in the sink, leaning against the sink, "Okay, then we stop Roy."

"How?" Bowie asked.

"You know how," He responds.

Sam frowns, "Wait. What the hell are you guys talking about? We can't kill Roy."

"Sam, this guy is playing God," Dean defends, "He's deciding who lives and who dies, that's a monster in my book."

"No, we're not gonna kill a human being, Dean," Sam replies, "If we do that, we're no better than he is."

"Okay, so we can't kill Roy and we can't kill death," Bowie lists off, "So we do nothing?"

"Any bright ideas, college boy?" Dean pipes.

Sam thinks, "Okay, uh. . .if Roy is using some kind of black spell on the Reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it."

Bowie sucks his teeth, "We have to go back there don't we."

*·˚ ༘ ➳〔 𝙗𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 〕 ࿐ ࿔*:

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃. Within the hour they were back at Roy Le Grange's residence, parked among the many cars lined up for service in the big white tent. This time they congratulated the protester near the entrance. With fifteen minutes until service the brothers decided to split up.

Dean would stall the La Grange's while Sam and Bowie would check the house for any signs of Reaper work.

He was thankful that he didn't have to go in that tent this time.

Sam picked the lock of the window in the back of the house, hoisting himself up. Bowie checked for unwanted eyes before pulling himself up backwards, closing it shut behind him. Sam was already in another room when he entered it.

"Come look at this," Sam announced. He picked his way into Roy's study. It was collecting dust and everything looked hold and untouched, all except the bookshelf Sam was pointing to, "This book was pulled out the most."

Bowie grabs the book and flicks through the pages, "There's nothing in here that's important," He responds.

Sam frowns, grabbing a small book shoved behind the bookshelf. He sorts through it, and what they find makes Bowie's face heat up. It was news clips from the last month or so, of people who they know to be dead.

The six victims. One headline reads, "Openly gay teacher" the next headline reads, "Local protests have been held by Pro-Choice activists." All people who went against bible views, all people who made noticeable change.

"Wait," Bowie says through anger, "Isn't this the protester in front of the tent?"

They called Dean when they were far enough away from the house, breathlessly moving through the parking lot in search of the protester.

"What do you got?" Dean asks.

"Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral, and we think we know who's next on his list," Sam explains, "Remember that protester? Yeah, yeah, we'll find him but you can't let Roy heal anyone, all right?"

A loud yell for help was heard across the big parking lot. Sam was closer to the noise and reacted first, weaving his way through cars. Bowie ran around, coming to a stop right beside the man, just as Sam did.

"Where is he?" Sam asked, looking around.

The Protester points shakily in front of them, "It's right there!"

They ran away, and Dean called moments later, telling them he called a fake fire and the others were slowly leaving the tent. For a second, they think it's safe.

Until the man had dropped to his knees in the mud, his face going pale and his eyes glazing over. He was losing oxygen.

"Dean! It didn't work, the Reaper's still coming!" Sam yells.

Bowie didn't know what he was doing but every urge in his body told him to slam his fist forward.

Unknowingly, at least for the moment, he had punched the Reaper directly in the face. The Reaper looks up, confused for just a second before grabbing Bowie's fist again.

Bowie instantly drops down.

"What is happening?!" Sam panics, "Bowie?!"

"What's wrong?!" Dean yells.

"He's– I think he's dying?" Sam guessed.

He wasn't wrong. Bowie's face had gone pale, the air in his lungs feeling sucked out of his chest until he was left gasping. His eyes had glazed over, and he didn't know how or why but the Reaper had changed direction on him.

It wanted Bowie, no, it needed Bowie. It wanted his soul, his— something— that the Reaper so clearly needed.

"It's not working! Roy must not be controlling this thing!"

Sue Ann was. Dean had seen her muttering in Latin near the stage alone, most likely finishing what she started.

Dean rushes forward, grabbing at her but Sue Ann was quick to have the police escort him out of the tent, too.

The Reaper let Bowie go the second Sue Ann was stopped, and it didn't look happy about it. It drops Bowie back on the ground like nothing happened and flickered away.

Bowie looked around in bewilderment.

"So, Roy really believes," Sam asked hours later, the brothers back at the Motel to piece together what they learned.

Bowie lays on the other bed, staring off into space.

He had almost died. The whole non-breathing, eyes glazed over, close to death and the only thing he felt was a tingle in his chest. Like something had broken open inside of him and it left him with a pounding headache.

"I don't think he has any idea what his wife is doing," Dean agrees.

Sam shows Dean what they found in Roy's office. It was an ancient priest who went to the dark side where Bowie had found a binding spell for trapping a Reaper.

"Must be one hell of a spell," Dean says.

"Yeah, you got to build a black alter with seriously dark stuff," Sam responds, "Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, that Preacher's wife– black magic, murder. It's evil."

"It's desperate," Dean corrects, "Her husband was dying, she'd have done anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the Reaper away from Roy."

Sam scoffs, "Cheating death. Literally."

"But Roy is alive, so why is she still using the spell?"

"Because," Bowie pipes in, "She's an evil religious shank who wants people to believe what she believes. She could've exposed the Reaper to the believers but that would be too dangerous, she wanted to use it. To kill people she thought was immoral. She thinks she's doing God's dirty laundry."

Dean scoffs, "God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work."

"We need to break that binding spell."

"You know, Sue Ann had a coptic cross like this," Dean recalls, looking at the page, "When she dropped it, the Reaper backed off."

"So you think we have to find the cross or destroy the altar?" Sam asked.

"Maybe both to be safe," Bowie responds, "Whatever we do, we need to do it soon."

Dean nods, "Roy is healing Layla tonight."

*·˚ ༘ ➳〔 𝙗𝙤𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙣 〕 ࿐ ࿔*:

𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆. He couldn't explain it but there was something wrong with him. It's been hours since his encounter with the Reaper and yet he still feels like he's under the influence of it.

His face was still a bit pale, his cheeks sickly sunken in and his eyes watery. The Protestor wasn't left with these side effects so why was he.

"That's Layla's car," Sam tells them, "She's already here."

Dean shakes his head, "If Roy would've picked Layla instead of me, she'd be healed right now."

"Dean, don't," Sam firms.

"And if she's not healed tonight, she's gonna die in a couple months," Dean continues.

Bowie cleared his scratchy throat, "What's happening to her is horrible, but we can't let anyone else die to spare a life."

"You said it yourself, Dean. You can't play God," Sam finished.

That seemed to keep Dean quiet, and the brothers got out of the car.

In the tent, Roy Le Grange was standing among a quiet crowd, ushering Layla on the stage. Sue Ann was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the psycho wife?" Bowie asked.

"The House," Sam announced.

Dean felt it was a good idea if they split again, pushing Sam toward the house to stop Sue Ann while Dean and Bowie gave the police officers a run for their money.

"Hey," Dean calls out, "You gonna put that fear of God in me?"

The officers narrow their eyes before throwing their cups to the ground and chasing after them.

Bowie grabbed at his ribs, unable to run as fast as he could.

"Keep up!" Dean orders.

"I'm trying!" Bowie wheezed.

They hid behind a large truck, backs pressed along the side as the police drag their flashlights around. Dean jumps at the loud bark of a Rockweiler in the passengers seat, screaming at them and giving their hideout away.

"Up!" Bowie whispered.

Just as the police turned the corner, Bowie had hoisted himself above the car and pulled Dean with him. They lay breathlessly on their backs, waiting for the police to leave.

"You look horrible," Dean comments, frowning, "That Reaper really did a number on you, didn't it?"

Bowie swallows the dryness in his throat, looking disheartened, "That's an understatement. I still don't know why it turned to me in the first place."

Dean is quick to crawl down, helping him back on his feet, "I don't know but we'll figure it out after we stop Sue Ann."

The street lights above them blow out one by one and suddenly Bowie feels his spine go cold and stiff. Something was wrong.

The Reaper appears in it's black suit, it's face decayed and blank as it walked up to Bowie. The Hunter hardly had time to react before both hands had grabbed at his face, instantly knocking him to his knees.

"Bow?!" Dean calls, sliding on his knees beside him, "Bowie!?"

Bowie let out a choked yell, his eyes and skin going pale. He felt his soul flicker and fade, he felt his heart squeeze and his throat tighten until his eyes had rolled back.

The Reaper had been freed by Sam moments ago and yet the creature still tried to drag Bowie down with the sole intention of being the one to do it. Why?

It wasn't until Bowie had collapsed to the ground, unmoved, did the Reaper walk away— more than likely to kill Sue Ann for imprisoning it in the first place.

"Hey?" Dean slapped his cheek, pressing his ear into his brother's chest, "Hey! Wake up! Bowie? Damnit—" He shakes his shoulder, "Bowie! Bowie, please, hey!"

Bowie's body limply shook at Dean's force.

Dean chokes on his panicked sob, "Sam!" He screamed, "Sam! Come quick, Bowie he's not—"

Bowie sits up and gasps for air, his eyes watered and his throat so scratched that he had to lean over and cough.

Dean falters, "...breathing," He finished.

"I'm okay," Bowie responds, grabbing at his heart, "I'm okay."

Dean knelt beside him, frozen and frowning as if the universe had made the cruelest joke. He wasn't breathing. Dean heard him. He wasn't crazy, his brother was dead.

Suppose he'd have to brush it off as a miracle.

"You okay?" Sam asked them once they all grouped back to the car. The youngest frowned, noticing Bowie's healthy face, "Feeling okay?"

"Never better," He responds. Bowie meant that. For some reason he felt completely fine, better than he's ever felt, "Why?"

"It's been one hell of a week," Dean responds, sighing.

"Alright, come on, we should get going," Sam responds.

By morning, they had gone back to the motel and started to pack. Dean sat on the bed, deep in thought. He watched Bowie worriedly from across the room.

"We did the right thing here didn't we?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Of course," Bowie responds instantly.

"It doesn't feel like it," He says.

A knock on the door confuses both Dean and Bowie. Sam happily opened it, revealing Layla on the other side. Dean was quick to stand up, and Sam had motioned for the middle child to follow him.

"How'd you know we were here?" Dean asked her.

She smiled, "Sam called. He said that he wanted to say goodbye."

"I'm gonna grab a soda," Sam announced, "Bowie is thirsty."

"Bowie is thirsty," Bowie repeats.

The brothers had quickly run out of the room, smirking and mocking Dean from behind Layla. He glared at them just as they closed the door.

Bowie had bought a lemonade can from the vending machine while Sam used the bathroom, counting his quarters before shoving them into the snack machine, grabbing a Snicker for Dean.

Layla turns the corner just as he turns around, the pair bumping into each other and the drink in his hand to fall and roll on the ground.

"I'm sorry about that," She chuckles.

"Eh, don't worry about it," Bowie waved off.

They both reach for it. She grabs the can and Bowie accidentally grabs her hand over it. She gasps, feeling the wind knock out of her chest.

Layla froze, her face suddenly full of color. Her eyes no longer glazed over and her shoulders no longer tense.

Bowie awkwardly smiles at her, opting not to mention her shift in behavior as he grabbed his drink and stood up, "It was nice meeting you," He says, walking away.

It felt like a slow motion movie, like the score was building up as he walked down the hallway toward the motel room. He didn't know what had happened at Roy Le Grange's but whatever it was changed him in a way.

He wasn't so bothered by everything, he felt fine. He felt completely and utterly fine.

His eyes flickered.

[ AUTHORS NOTE,, what is going on? ]