When Shawn pulled the blueberry in front of the rundown two story cabin, he immediately saw Juliet. She was pacing madly, back and forth, in quick strides, much like a caged animal. Part of him sighed in relief that she was outside of the danger zone. That she was safe and unharmed. However, the remaining part of him was ready to kick the door in and pummel Gerry Blankenship to death. Shawn had never felt such anger—such violent tenancies flow through him before. This, was not a normal circumstance, and people he thought of as family were in danger, possibly dead. He would do whatever he had to do, to ensure that they all came out of this in one piece.
“Jules.” he said softly, when he exited the car.
In two long strides she was standing in front of him. A mixture of anger and pain written on her features. Shawn knew he should take a step back. Everything about Juliet's posture said, take a step back. Yet, he stood in place, his body unresponsive to all of the commands his brain was giving. He watched as she slowly raised her hand, and grimaced as it connected with his face. A loud thawp sounded as the skin from the palm of her hand connected solidly with the skin of his face. With his free hand, he reached up and rubbed at his stinging cheek. His mouth stood agape, and while he did understand why she slapped him, he was still shocked she had done it.
“How dare you!” she screamed, as she dug her index finger into the tender flesh of his pectoral muscle.
“Owwwwwww! Jules.”
Her face contorted from anger mixed with pain to pure rage. “How dare you do this!? You went behind my back. You guilted Lassiter into allowing you to work on this case! What if that had been you!?”
Shawn's face dropped as he watched the rage fall off Juliet's face in a matter of seconds. The pain and worry were the only things that covered her face, and he realized that she was angry because of what could have happened to him. Without a second thought, Shawn closed the distance between them and drew Juliet into his arms. “I am right here. I am fine. I promised you that I wouldn't do anything stupid, and I didn't, but I had to help, Jules. You know I did.”
She sighed, as her rigid body slumped against his. He could feel the tears soaking through his shirt, as he rubbed soothing circles against her back. “Don't worry, Jules. We will get them both out of there alive.”
She nodded, not truly believing his words. Wiping the remaining tears from under her eyes, she stepped back from his embrace. “I'm just waiting for the chief.”
Shawn grimaced. “Does she really need to be here?”
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Yes, Shawn. She is my boss after all.”
Shawn sighed. He might have to do something stupid after all.
********************
Lassiter felt his body. No blood was visible, no pain. Turning around to check on Buzz, he saw the young officer crumpled on the floor. Lassiter quickly knelt to his knees, and started to examine the currently unconscious man. A small hole in Buzz's upper right chest was pouring out a fearful amount of blood. It was starting pool under his lifeless body, and Lassiter was well past worried. Not just because Buzz had been shot—on any normal day he could deal with it, just staunch the flow until an ambulance arrived—but because this was exactly what Shawn had seen.
He couldn't deny it any longer. Something freaky was going on with Shawn—and for some unseen reason, Shawn's dreams were becoming reality. That by itself was enough to freak any normal person out, but the fact that they were both stuck in the house, and Gerry Blankenship was currently MIA was enough to send Lassiter off the deep in.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to contain his fear, as he removed his suit jacket. His first priority was Buzz, and trying to at least slow the amount of blood loss. The wound itself wasn't immediately life-threatening, but if he didn't get to a hospital soon, it would soon become a life or death situation.
Pressing the jacket down tightly against the still oozing wound, Lassiter heaved a relived sigh when Buzz groaned out. At least he now knew that the young officer was still very much alive.
“Det—detective--” Buzz groaned out, before a harsh cough overtook his body.
“Ssh. It's alright, McNab. We're going to get you out of here and to a hospital.”
Buzz's eyes opened. They were bloodshot, and Lassiter could feel the young man's chest heave uncomfortably with each new breath he took. Shutting his eyes, he bit his lip to keep from cursing out. Buzz was slowly losing his battle with the small wound in his chest, which from the wheezing sounds, was currently filling with blood.
“Just, stay still--”
Lassiter stared at Buzz for a moment as the young man's eyes grew wide. “Behind--” Another wheezing cough overtook him, as a bit of blood spilled onto his lips.
Turning around, Lassiter found the butt end of a gun coming toward his temple. Pain exploded behind his eyes, as his vision grayed slightly, before blacking out completely. His last conscious thought being that he wished Shawn was there. He would know what to do. It was his damned dream after all. He quickly crumpled to the ground as he gave into unconsciousness. A small puddle of blood pooled under Lassiter's head, from the draining wound on his temple.
********************
Shawn eyed the two-story cabin wearily. He had to get inside that cabin, but he had no idea how he planned on doing that. Juliet was watching him like a hawk, and he was certain that he'd hear sirens from the coming backup any moment now. Once that happened, he would have absolutely no window to get inside that cabin. A devilish grin formed on Shawn's face, as a plan started to form.
At first thought, the chief's arrival was plan hindering, but on deeper thought, it was exactly the distraction he needed. She would most likely yell, scream, and ban him from the scene. In fact, he was banking on just that, otherwise his plan would fall flat. After she put her foot down, Shawn would throw a fit. He wanted it to be good so that everyone on the scene would see it. After Juliet stepped in, like she had so many times before, to defend him, Shawn would use the distraction to slip away.
He knew it would be best to enter from the second floor, but from the very small walks he had taken around the cabin, he hadn't found a point of entry from the ground up to the second floor. There were no stairs leading to a deck. Hell, there wasn't even a tree he could attempt to climb. Plan b included sneaking away to the back of the cabin, and into the back door. From there he could go about locating Buzz and Lassiter.
Sirens sounded in the background, and he quickly dropped his smile. This needed to go according to plan, and the plan did not include cocky, all-knowing smiles. Nope, he would save that for after he saved Buzz and Lassiter, because anything less than that would break what was left of his heart and soul. Shawn was fairly certain that he couldn't take that kind of loss.
Pushing himself away from the blueberry, he spotted the first wailing car in a line of three. There was no denying that the chief was sitting in the first one. The scowl painted on her face at the sight of Shawn Spencer was more than enough proof of that. It was also proof that his plan was working right from the start. Placing his hands on his hips, while he waited for her to scream at him, he groaned. Damn migraine. It had disappeared upon their arrival to the cabin, but was now back with a hated vengeance. Apparently his head was not as fond of his plan, as he was.
Through his blurred vision, Shawn could tell that Gus and Juliet were eying him with concern. He waved them off, as his stomach churned uncomfortably. He wasn't going to throw up. That was not part of his plan. Screwing his eyes closed, Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Mr. Spencer!” Oh that noise. She had to stop, it was causing the bongo drums to beat harder and faster.
“Ugh.” Shawn groaned out, as he stumbled sideways before bending forward. He dry heaved a couple of times. His ribs throbbing from the effort. “Please, stop.” Shawn moaned.
The chief's head snapped toward Juliet. “What is wrong with him?”
Juliet's brow furrowed. She had never seen Shawn like this. Not in the entire time she had known him. “I don't know.” her voice was merely a whisper, but the concern was there.
Gus stepped forward. “Shawn used to suffer from severe migraines when we were kids. He'll be fine, he just needs to rest.”
If Shawn had the energy, he would have shot a glare toward Gus. As it were, he barely had the energy to keep his legs from collapsing. The pain throbbing it's way through his head was slowly draining each and every little ounce of energy he had.
“There are some chairs on the back deck. Let me take him back there and set him down.”
The chief's brow furrowed. “Can't he just sit in the car?”
Gus guffawed loudly. “He needs the fresh air. It helps get rid of the migraine faster. If you want, one of the officers can come with us, and watch us.”
The chief sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” Motioning at one of the uniformed officers, she waited for him to step forward. “Take Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster around the back of the cabin. Ensure that Mr. Spencer sits down, and make sure that neither of them enter that building.”
The officer nodded, before placing a hand just under Shawn's elbow and helped him walk toward the back of the house. Oh he would definitely have to thank Gus, and his brilliant thinking later—once everyone was safe—and far away from this God-forbidden cabin.
**************************
Lassiter groaned as he started to come to. His head lulled to the side as he tried to figure out why it felt like there was a chorus of bongo drums playing a concert of melodies against his aching temples. He moved to massage his aching head, and found that his arms weren't responding to his commands. Slowly, he cracked his eyes opened and took in his surroundings—or lack there of.
What in the hell had happened? He thought back, remembering that they had been searching for Julie and Peter Mahoney—no wait—that was wrong. That was a fake name. Gerry Blankenship—that's who they were looking for. They had been in a cabin—noises--Lassiter's eyes shot open fully, before he groaned out at the pain it caused. Buzz. He had been shot—and losing blood faster than Lassiter could attempt to staunch the flow.
“Buzz.” Lassiter was able to moan out.
“Oh, fantastic! You finally woke up. Do you understand that it's no fun to play with someone, when they are unresponsive.”
Through his cracked eyelids, Lassiter located where the voice was coming from, and glared in that general direction. “You sick son of bitch!”
“Now, now. Watch your language. We have a young audience--” Gerry Blankenship finally came into view. He grinned at Lassiter. “Then again, you already knew that—didn't you. Glad to see you finally found out the truth--” A darkness overtook Gerry's face, before he continued, “too bad it had to come at the hands of that infuriating man. If it wasn't for that damned Shawn Spencer, I would have gotten away with all of this.”
Lassiter pulled against his restraints, wanting nothing but to put his hands around Blankenship's throat and squeeze that stupid sneer off his face. He bit back a cry as the straps bit into his wrists. Lassiter could feel the sticky substance of blood trickling down from the now open wounds around his wrists.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you. It's quite nasty down here. I'd hate to see your wounds get infected—that wouldn't be fun. Would it?” Gerry barked a laugh.
Ignoring the increasing bite, Lassiter strained against the straps around his wrists. He pulled as hard as he could, until finally he slumped back against the table that he was propped up against. The blood was pouring more than trickling now, and Lassiter knew he had to stop if he planned on making it out of this situation alive.
“Why are you doing this!?” Lassiter finally yelled out, when Gerry disappeared from sight.
Peering out of the darkness, with a hint of the cocky, sneer from earlier. “Because I wanted to see that bitch, Lucinda in pain. This--” Gerry paused, motioning toward Lassiter, “is just a bonus. Spoiler alert: I plan on killing you. I don't care of your merry band if reject cop friends are outside this cabin. I am going to kill you—and I plan on doing it in front of your little girl. Fantastic plan right? Look, Julie! It's your daddy—oh...oops. Well, it was your daddy.” Gerry laughed, as he lifted a bat that Lassiter hadn't seen. Swinging it forward, Lassiter groaned when it made contact with his stomach, before hitting his head. Darkness quickly overtook him, as his last thought was that he had to do everything he could to stay alive, if only for Julie's sake.