Kill the Messenger

A Bates Motel Fanfiction

Summary: Unable to keep his secret any longer, Dylan tells Emma what he knows regarding her mother's disappearance. Determined to uncover the truth, they pay a visit to Bates Motel to get answers from Norman, but will they find what they are looking for? Imagining of season five. Dylemma. Major character death.

/!\ Warnings: Mild language, sensuality, and major character death.

Disclaimer: We own nothing!

A/N: We apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors in advance.

Chapter Five

Dylan opened his eyes, wincing as incandescent lights accosted them. Antiseptic and latex permeated the air, monitors beeping steadily like metronomes.

"What the?" He inspected the IV in his arm that led to a bag of normal saline infusing.

"You're awake."

He snapped his head toward the African-American woman in the corner. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Special Agent Liz Babbitt." She flashed her badge before tucking it into the breast pocket of her blazer.

"What...what happened to me?"

She crossed her ankle over the opposite knee, pen poised over a fresh sheet in her notepad. "I'm hoping you can tell me. We found you lying next to your brutally beaten brother and a dead girl." Emma. Realization landed like a punch to the gut.

He poured himself some water, draining it in two gulps. "Where's Norman?"

He hoped morgue, but she said, "ICU. He's in very bad shape. He was placed him in a medically induced coma to reduce the swelling in his brain. They won't know the extent of the damage until he wakes up...If he wakes up."

He grunted. "Where's Sheriff Romero?"

"Don't worry about him." Babbit's brusque dismissal perturbed him further. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Fine. My girlfriend Emma and I confronted my brother Norman about her mother. Her name was Audrey. I found out she had stayed in the motel my family owns, the Bates Motel, but never checked out. Norman suffers from blackouts and he sometimes hurts people during them. He doesn't remember that, though, but I had evidence he was responsible for Mrs. Decody's disappearance. Once I told Emma about it, she wanted the truth from Norman, so we paid him a visit. After I discovered Norman embalmed our mother, things got heated. Norman stole my gun and pointed it at me and Emma. I wrestled it from him and then it went off, accidentally...accidentally shooting Emma." He choked on her name.

She jotted down his account and did not look up until she finished.

"Mr. Massett, you claim to have evidence regarding Audrey Decody's disappearance."

"She is not a missing person. She's been murdered. By Norman Bates."

Babbitt quirked a brow. "That's a pretty serious allegation. Proof?"

"Yes. I saw a letter she wrote for her daughter and a stuffed rabbit in my brother's room. Why would it be there? They crossed paths, somehow. Norman has a history of -" He stopped. What happens at the motel stays at the motel. He'd have no qualms telling Romero, who made his family's myriad problems 'disappear.' Where the hell is he, anyway?

"A history of what?"

Of killing people. Dylan cleared his throat. "Of blacking out, like I said."

"We searched your brother's house and didn't find anything."

Dylan knitted his brows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we found Norma Bates' body."

"I told you!"

"And although it is very, er...strange for a son to preserve his mother, it isn't illegal. We didn't, however, find the letter or stuffed rabbit you speak of. Are you sure your memory did not..." She dipped her chin. "Betray you?"

"Of course it didn't! You seriously think I would make this up?"

She shrugged. "We found no evidence to support your claim. What else am I supposed to believe?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know." His voice oozed sarcasm. "Maybe my brother hid or disposed of the evidence that would have landed his ass behind bars for the rest of his life? Anyone else with a brain would do the same thing."

"After beating him within an inch from his life?"

"He probably got rid of it long before we got there."

Babbit leaned closer, twiddling her pen. "Is it possible your brother may have been romantically interested in Emma?"

"Yeah. They were friends. I think they may have had crushes on each other, but nothing really came of it." Dylan frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mr. Massett," she replied, face and tone hardening. "How would you feel if Emma broke up with you and got together with Norman?"

"I love Emma, so yeah, I would be pretty upset."

"Upset enough to nearly kill him over it?"

"What! Are you saying I almost killed Norman because I thought he was trying to get with Emma? That isn't remotely close to the truth."

"It's a scenario I need to consider."

"Well, you need to reconsider." He scoffed. "You know what? I don't want to talk anymore. I'm not saying anything else until I have a lawyer." I should have kept quiet since the beginning.

The detective stood, sighing. "I appreciate your candor, but you should have told me earlier. I've heard all I needed...for now. Once you're discharged, I'll have your ass for the attempted murder of Norman Bates and the involuntary manslaughter of Emma Decody." Dylan stared at the wall and into the bleak future as she walked out, the slam of the door resounding in his head. Emma and Norma were the only ones worth living for, and now both were gone.

Dylan ripped out his IV, his bellow of pain mingling with the cacophony of alarms as he thrashed in bed, flecking the sheets, floor, and walls crimson.

"Mr. Massett, calm down!" The nurse flung herself on him. "I need help in here!" she cried as he bucked her off, running out while more staff rushed in and pinned him in place until she returned, expelling air bubbles from a syringe.

"This will hurt only a little," she said, followed by a slight pinch in the arm.

And out he went like a light.

After screaming he wanted to die, the hospital placed Dylan on suicide watch until he was cleared. As far as he knew, Norman was recuperating in the ICU a floor above him. Dylan hoped not; his brother didn't deserve life after Emma and Norma lost theirs.

Security ushered him to the police cruiser idling in the valet loop. Dylan never caught a glimpse of the officer's name or rank, nor did he care as he cuffed and stuffed him into the backseat. They arrived at the station minutes later, where he was led him to a sparsely furnished room, one of its chairs occupied by none other than -

"Babbit. I never hoped I'd see you again."

She smirked, tracing the rim of a cup of black coffee Dylan preferred loaded with cream and sugar. He hooked his foot around a chair leg, dragging it out and plopping down.

"I'm asking you one last time," Babbit said. "Are you certain you found a letter written by Audrey Decody?"

"Absolutely. I know she was there. My brother even said he found her luggage in the attic! He put it there!"

"I want to believe you, Dylan. She gazed into her drink like it was the panacea to all woes. "I really do. But your claims are circumstantial at best; they doesn't prove anything."

"Yes, they do! You don't know Norman like I do! I know he killed her!"

"Enough, Dylan!" Babbitt slapped the table; the cup toppled, and coffee spilled. She whisked papers into her arms and scooted back, sparing them and her suit. "You are telling me that Norman killed this woman when he had no motive, nothing to gain from it whatsoever? As far as I am concerned, Audrey Decody is alive and well. We know what kind of person she is: one with a troubled past who does not want to be found."

"Unless they're dead!"

"You don't deny you tried to kill your brother, but you may get a lighter sentence if you plead insanity."

Dylan frowned. "Why? I'm not crazy."

"That's a moot point. Let's see what the professionals at Pineview have to say."

"What? I'm undergoing a psychiatric evaluation?"

"Yes. And if the results come back what I think they are, you may be able to spend time there instead of a cell."

"You can't do this to me!" Dylan sprung to his feet as a pair of burly orderlies barged in and tackled him. "I...I need to sign a consent form or something!" He writhed in their arms.

"Not if you are a danger to yourself and others; you're both. You caused your brother grievous bodily injury, and I heard about that episode in the hospital. You had to be restrained. The staff said you were ranting and raving about wanting to die and killing yourself, after doing your brother in first. Clearly, you are not in your right state of mind and in desperate need of reality testing."

"You've got this all wrong!" Dylan screamed as the men dragged him down the hall, out the station, and toward a van with the Pineview logo emblazoned on its side. "I'm not the one who should be going to Pineview! Norman should be there, not me! Let me go!"

"Ha ha ha!"

He whipped around. That laugh. It was Norman, clutching his middle as he cackled at the irony.

Oh, the irony! Dylan burst into laughter. Hilarious! His body quivered with an intractable case of the giggles.

"He's a nut," one man said as they shoved Dylan into the back.

You got that right. He was going insane. That tends to happen when people told you something didn't exist when you knew it really did.

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading! This chapter concludes Kill the Messenger. Please let us know what you think.