AZAZEL.

Chapter: 6.

******

Steven Martins and his co-officer Murray Gray stood side by side with each taking turns to hammer their fists against the door of the motel where they had learned Logan was holed up. The metal rings on Steven's fist clattered uselessly against the surface as he tried to bang the door again in frustration. "Damn it," he grumbled, "What kind of sleep is he sleeping that he wouldn't wake up even with all this chaos?!" He threw a punch at the door and another round of profanity tumbled from his lips, but it was no good.

"You think he's alright in there?" Murray asked anxiously as they both stared at the door with growing concern.

Steven glanced over at him and then sighed heavily. "No, I don't know if he's alright, but we're not going away until he's out, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable. Maybe it's better if we go back to the car-"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Murray snapped, causing the other officer to raise questioning brows at his come-back. "We can't sit around in the car when he's not responding, we better call the Captain, it's what we're going to do." Shaking his head in disappointment the officer proceeded to pull his cell phone out and before Steven could speak, the door tore right open, and standing before them was a very haggard-looking Logan, his eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled, face pale and drawn. A look which only grew darker upon seeing the two officers, but even more, he seemed confused, like he didn't know who they were, or what and how he got to where he was.

A loud exhale was let out by the second officer who immediately dropped the phone in his ear back into his pocket, and stared fully at the man. "Oh thank God!" Murray exclaimed with another exhale before he dragged the man forward and wrapped both arms around him. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Logan looked taken aback, "What the hell are you talking about?" His voice sounded thick and scratchy, almost like he hadn't had much sleep in days. "Where am I?" He pushed away from the man, scratching at his stubble.

"The motel," Steven said calmly, moving closer to Logan, who took an involuntary step backward. The older officer put up a hand to stop him from bumping into the table sitting close to the door and falling over himself. "Do you remember anything? From last night?"

Frowning Logan stared from one man to the other. "No," his reply was slow and unsure. "No, I don't." He rubbed at his forehead, wincing at the dull ache he felt there. "And why does my neck feel like sandpaper, and so bloody stiff?" He demanded and Steven frowned at him.

"Are you alright?" Murray asked, giving the man's arm a gentle squeeze, and getting a nod in return.

"Yeah," Logan replied, though it still came out a bit weak. "Yeah, just a headache. My head hurts like I had hit it pretty bad on some fucking damn hard surface." Another hiss ripped from within his throat, and with a groan of effort, Logan pushed himself into the single armchair in the corner of the room.

Steven inspects the room briefly before stopping in front of the confused-looking Logan. "Did you check yourself in here last night?"

Logan looked blank for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "I don't remember doing that... I don't remember anything, just the weird dream I was having before your knock woke me up, even the dreams felt so weird, like it's real. I'm glad they are starting to fade."

Twisted brows and curved lips, Steven eyed him confusedly, then threw back. "What does that even mean?"

Logan shrugged, "Like I was living another life, somewhere... Like I had died and went someplace... different." The man frowned and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Then, as if realizing something, he glanced down at himself, his expression going slack, and a slight shiver rolled through him. "Shit!" He exclaimed and scrambled to get up from the chair. "Shit, shit shit shit..." He mumbles as he paced across the room, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, tossing his clothes to the side, then reaching for his pants he began to yank them off too. He was going full commando before their eyes looking like a madman chasing a useless purpose.

"Whoa there... Hey, easy man." Murray said softly and reached out to steady him when he nearly crashed into the bed. "Take it easy-"

"Accident," Logan interrupted, turning toward both men. "Accident, I had a fucking accident last night, my-my legs were broken, my hand twisted and broken, I had this gash at the back of my head it was bleeding so bad I fainted at some point I was sure... but-but now..." He trailed off as he fell onto the bed, letting his head rest against the pillow. "Shit," he whispered in disbelief. "Now they're not broken anymore, no bruises at the back of my head either, and all the blood from last night... shit." He lifted his hands to his face, feeling it carefully, running his fingers over the skin beneath his eyes. It was smooth. No signs of bruising. "This isn't real... this isn't happening!" He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling in dismay. "How am I alive? How did I survive all that? This feels like a fever dream, it has to be. But I'm not dreaming, I'm awake, everything is real... you're real, I'm real, and in a motel room I never checked into!" He muttered, pressing a hand to his temple.

Coming to sit beside him on the bed, Murray pressed a hand into his shoulder blades, shaking him to calmness. "Okay, you have to breathe now, you have to calm down..." He murmured, and pulled the blankets up higher over Logan's chest, tucking them under his chin. He waited a few moments as Logan took deep breaths, and after some more time, Logan's breathing became less labored. "There we go, that's good, just keep breathing," the officer coaxed, rubbing soothing circles on his back with his free hand. When Logan had finally calmed down sufficiently, Murray gave him another gentle shake.

"Hey, a truck driver tipped us off last night about a wrecked vehicle in the ditch with no passenger in it, and when we asked how he knew nobody was inside the vehicle, he said he looked. We had it towed and checked and found it belonged to you, and all night we looked for you. We didn't get any sleep, and with the cases of missing persons on the rise, we were all worried sick when we couldn't find a trace of where you could have disappeared off to..." Murray met his still shocked non-expressive face and continued.

"...Until an anonymous caller informed us about a stumbling drunk man whom they thought had blood all over their body. He sounded pretty wasted himself, but he mentioned he saw the man walking into the Mariska's Motel early hours of this morning. We had to check it out immediately to be certain before we declared you missing too."

"...The lady at the front desk didn't know if you checked in here the night before as she had only resumed duty that morning, and we were in luck since yours was the only room occupied. We knew we have got to check and be certain it wasn't you in there..." He spoke cautiously, keeping his eyes on Logan's face. "You don't have as little dirt on you, more so blood, so I would say you probably weren't in the car during the time of the crash as it would have been tragic, and you probably couldn't have survived such a crash-"

"That's the point, Murray, I was in the car, I was mangled up pretty badly and here I am, fucking alive! Explain this to me!" Logan cut in, glaring at Murray. "Just explain what the hell happened to me! How the fuck did I survive that? How did I get here?" He ranted, fear gripped his thoughts, and his eyes began to water. "I was damn sure I died in my car last night... What is happening to me?"

"I just told you, sir, the only explanation was that you got out before the crash," Murray said sadly, giving Logan a sympathetic glance before turning to Steven, who nodded in agreement.

"I was in the car?!" Logan shouted angrily. "You don't know what's going on! You don't believe me, do you?" There was a desperate edge to his voice as if he was grasping at straws trying to find a way to convince them that he was telling the truth. That he was in the car when it crashed and had sustained a major injury from the crash, and that at some point he had fainted, and perhaps even died.

Realizing now just how crazy he was starting to sound and how little to no sense he was making, Logan picked an alternative. "You know what," he started after a thoughtful silence. "You're probably right, I may have jumped out from the car at some point before the crash, I mean I can barely remember anything, my brain cells are all in mush thanks to whatever had happened last night, I probably need to get myself checked at the hospital before coming in to work later." With these words, Logan shoved himself from the bed to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

Murray watched silently as the man disappeared behind a closed door, his shoulders slumping and his head resting against the headboard.

Steven sighed deeply. He didn't think the man had it in him to jump out from a car that was about to crash but was glad he survived nonetheless. His attention shifted from the bathroom door to Murray when he heard the man speaking on the phone.

"Yes, sir, he's fine," Murray said into the receiver. "I think he's pretty shaken up, we'll drive him to the hospital and back home before returning to the office... yes sir... no sir..." The conversation ended.

Steven raised a questioning brow when he dropped the call and inhaled deeply. "What?"

"You're on babysitting duty," Murray informed with a chuckle.

"Oh come on!" Steven cried and Murray laughed harder.

"Captain's order, we have to drive him straight home from the hospital and you'll keep watch while I return to the Station. There's another missing person's case reported this morning, needs to be investigated."

Steven nodded his understanding and turned to look out the window at the dark clouds beginning to spread across the sky. "It looks like rain."

A low hum escaped Murray's lips. "That's weird, nothing was in the forecast this morning."

Sighing Steven tsked, "Told you they are never accurate,"

Murray chuckled, " Yes, they are..." He argued.

Grunting he shook his head in disapproval. "It's the weather, Murray! Who can predict it? It's like predicting fate and the future!" The man-child fought.

"Don't they have the same meaning?"

Confused, Steven raised a brow. "What?"

"Fate and future?"

"No, they do not,"

Waving a hand in surrender, "I'm not having this argument with you today," Murray dismissed, and both men returned their attention to the weather.

The weather didn't look promising, as a thick layer of fog hung low above the ground, shrouding the roads in gray as soon as they stepped out of the room. They stood and watched a whirlwind pass through the streets of Mariska, blowing leaves and small pebbles about before the winds finally died down, leaving the world coated with a thick blanket of fog that covered the streets so much so they could hardly see what was in front of them. A drizzle fell from the sky, and the wind whistled and moaned loudly enough to drown out the sounds of the little town. Mariska was one of the most peaceful towns in Hillburn City but also the most treacherous when it rained.

As all three men carefully made their way to the parking lot, their footsteps echoing against the pavement and bouncing off the walls of the buildings around them. Steven glanced at his partner and then at Logan, noticing that he seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze far away and unblinking as he stared intently at the unforgiving dark sky as if he could see something that they couldn't.

"You good, man?" Steven asked, looking up and seeing nothing but the dark and dreary sky. "You okay?"

Logan blinked, "Huh? Oh yeah," he answered distractedly, glancing down at the two officers. "Yeah, I'm okay." He smiled faintly.

"You sure?" Murray asked.

Logan shrugged his shoulders, smiling faintly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He glanced at him. "Thanks for asking."

Murray smiled slightly. "No problem." He paused and lowered his voice. "I think you're in shock, let's get you checked out, looks like it's about to pour down fire and brimstone today."

Logan smiled briefly and shook his head. "Nah, it's not rain." He chuckled. "At least I hope not." He added just immediately as if trying to cover up the true meaning behind the sudden change in the weather.

And as they got into the car and began to drive off, Logan couldn't help but wonder if those red daunting eyes following their car that very moment were the reason he was still alive after that dreadful accident last night.

And the light he had seen.

Were they also conjured by the eyes? But, above all, who owned those pairs of eyes?

The dream.

His eyes bulged at the thought, yes, he had seen those matching eyes in his dreams.

Azazel, was it?

A flash of lightning swiped speedily across the windshield, bringing Murray to break the car quickly, all screaming bloody murder.