Because God Never Asked
Chapter 1
Olympic National Forest
North of Seattle, Washington
March 2007
The flames lapped hungrily at the motionless pelt of noxious fur in front of him despite the steady rain that had fallen all week, thanks to a hefty dousing of barbeque lighter fluid and a speedy torching. Dean looked up and cursed the sky, cursed Seattle for having to be so damned rainy, and hell, why not, while he was at it, he cursed Sam for finding this godforsaken spot in the first place. His head hurt where the beast had caught him off guard before he managed to drill a few rounds of silver into its chest. And his arms ached from dragging the heavy bastard out of the thick underbrush so he could torch it without sending the entire state of Washington up in flames…not that he would be all that upset if he did…damned unrelenting freezing rain had chilled him to the bone and beyond. He did however, take some consolation in the fact that Sam looked just as miserable and cold as he felt. Smug bastard; served him right for picking Seattle in March, even if it was the last night of the full moon cycle.
Sam stood still and quiet, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to shiver. He was frozen, wet, and hungry, but he knew better than to open his mouth and incur the wrath of his brother. To say that Dean was pissed right now would be the understatement of the century. Cranky Dean was bad enough…but crankyhungrywetcoldtired Dean was a whole other animal he did not want to mess with right now. So he stood as still as possible and daydreamed of the warm bed and microwave burritos that waited for him back at the Happy Trails Motel…and the shower that might just still be warm if Dean didn't spend all night in it. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dean turned his cell phone over and over inside his jacket pocket constantly…as if he was waiting for it to ring but it never did. Sam wondered briefly if it was the pretty little redheaded waitress from the diner back in Oregon. Dean had managed to con free pie out of her with a wink and a smile. When the bill came, it had the name Cindi and a phone number written in pink flowery lettering with hearts all around it. She couldn't have been long out of high school…not that Dean was all that picky, especially lately.
They made it back to the motel just a few moments short of freezing to death. Even the Impala seemed unhappy with the never ending rain and cold…twice on the way back, the brakes had failed and the engine sounded rougher than usual. The car finally skidded to a stop in the parking lot just short of flattening a rather sad looking shrub that probably could have benefited from a mercy killing anyway. Inside, the room was warm and not nearly as sketchy as their usual class of motels. The maid had been through while they were out. There were clean sheets on the beds, fresh towels in the bathroom, more coffee filters on the counter, and much to Dean's irritation, his clothes had been folded and placed in a neat pile on one of the chairs by the window. Sam laughed at his brother's child-like stomping and grumbling. Sam barely stifled another laugh as Dean dragged some sweats and an old shirt out of his duffle and continued to complain in a low voice about nosy maids, cold rain, and pain in the ass little brothers all the way to the bathroom where the door slammed loudly behind him. Sam sighed heavily knowing it would be an absolute miracle if the water was even lukewarm by the time he got to use the shower.
Dean emerged from the bathroom in cloud of hot steam, his mood obviously improved as he smiled at his brother.
"Shower's all yours," he said as he passed Sam on his way to the microwave and mini fridge.
Sam gritted his teeth through the not so warm shower and climbed into some sweats before heading out to see how much food was left.
"Mwofdeese wurittah dwood woo tood shaz un Shammy."
Sam just stared at his brother in disbelief as he grinned through a mouthful of food, bits of burrito spraying the table in front of him.
"One more time with your mouth empty Dean," Sam said as he picked an offending bean and few grains of rice off the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt.
"I said these burritos are good, you should have some, Sammy." Sam just rolled his eyes and headed over to get himself some food. He had to admit that Dean was right…for once the burritos really were pretty good.
They both climbed gratefully into bed and Dean fell almost immediately asleep. Sam however couldn't stop thinking about why Dean had been so preoccupied with his phone and even more grouchy than usual. In the last few months since their father had died, Dean had become quieter, and hardly ever spoke on his phone unless it was related to a job. Sam's curiosity got the better of him and he silently picked Dean's phone up off the nightstand and stepped into the bathroom. He noticed that Cindi's number had been saved and another girl named Caitlin but that there were very few other names in Dean's phone book. He scrolled through the names, and they all looked familiar; Ash, Bobby, Caleb, Cassie, Ellen, Jim, Jo, Joshua, Missouri, Sammy. He knew once they left town, those new girls' names would be deleted just like the rest of them. He still couldn't understand what was up with Dean and the phone. Sam checked the voice mail and found two old saved messages from their father that forced a lump up in his throat, and one from Bobby griping at him to return his call or he was coming out there to drag him back. Sam chuckled softly to himself at that last message. There was just one more, this one from Caitlin. Sam thought it was probably some half witted waitress or receptionist Dean had hit on during their last case. The message was brief.
"Dean, its Catie. I'm really starting to worry. He's still not answering his phone. And he hasn't picked up any of my checks in over six months. This is the third message I've left this week. Please, just call and let me know what's going on."
Sam stared at the phone, more confused than before he heard the message. He didn't remember Dean with anyone named Catie recently. There had been a Candi, a Chrissy, and a Callie, but no Catie. His head spun as he tried to place the name or subject of the message but he kept coming up empty. His brother was even more of a man whore than he thought. He carefully resaved the message and climbed back into bed. Dean was still out like a light, but sleep wouldn't find Sam that night until almost dawn.
The next morning, Sam stood in the motel parking lot, one hip resting against the passenger door of the Impala. He looked up as Dean came jogging across the street with a large coffee in each hand and a bag of donuts tenuously balanced on one arm. As Dean came closer, Sam could hear the familiar sound of his phone ringing. Dean looked down at his jacket pocket and frowned. Sam figured this was his one shot to get some answers. With his most innocent and helpful look, Sam reached into Dean's pocket and pulled out the phone, answering it before Dean could stop him. It was Bobby and he didn't sound happy at all. Sam quickly took the coffee from Dean's hand and replaced it with his cell. Dean held it away from his ear, the yelling clearly audible to Sam who stood a few feet away and pretended not to notice.
"Bobby, man. Calm down. We've been in the middle of nowhere for a while now. I've had no reception and we've been crazy busy this month. Freaks have been coming out of the woodwork around here." Dean shot a 'you'll pay for this' glare in Sam's direction.
"Dean, you can't keep this up forever. Its been almost six months. It ain't fair for you to keep avoiding her like this. She deserves to hear that the closest thing she's ever had to a father is dead. And she deserves to hear it from you."
The sound of glass shattering could be clearly heard on Bobby's end of the phone followed shortly by a string of expletives from Bobby that had even Dean impressed.
"Catie? Catie, I - um well Dean and - wait a minute now, come back here. Well, shit," Bobby sputtered. He yelled a few more expletives into Dean's ear, and finished with something that sounded like "get here by tomorrow or I'll kill your ass myself."
Sam knew better than to ask any questions as he climbed in the car and waited for Dean to head out of the lot. They made it to Bobby's in record time. Dean driving like hell, trying to outrun his thoughts and Sam completely lost in his own. Dean's mouth was set in a tight line and his hands were tense on the wheel. An old Black Sabbath cassette played loudly in the car for the fifth time that day, but neither brother seemed to notice. Sam did notice how much tighter his brother's hands became on the wheel as he pulled off the road. He turned into Bobby's front yard spraying dust and gravel over the random piles of abandoned parts and several cars in various stages of resurrection. Sam opened his door and stepped out, using his hand to shade his eyes against the late afternoon sun. Dean moved more slowly and Sam was sure he heard him grumbling under his breath.
"Well, Bobby's not out on the porch waving that 30-aught and cursing your name, so maybe you're worried for nothing," Sam said as he walked slowly toward the house. Dean just raised one eyebrow and shrugged.
Dean feigned calm better than anyone he knew, but Sam knew better. Something had Bobby and Dean on opposite sides of an argument and that made Sam uncomfortable. Dean and Bobby had hardly ever fought that Sam could recall. Dean had always respected Bobby and thought of him as family. He wanted to get inside and get some answers, but Dean seemed almost frozen where he was. Sam motioned toward the house, but Dean walked in another direction and Sam followed reluctantly.
Because God Never Asked
Chapter 2
Several feet from the garage door sat a 1970 Pontiac GTO with a pair of tiny feet sticking out from under the front of it. The black paint gleamed in the fading sunlight and made the car look almost purple. Dean walked up and kicked one of those feet none too gently. A colorful string of expletives that would have made a deaf man blush sounded from under the hood, and then the feet moved. Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when a little strawberry blond head popped out from under the car. She stood up to her full height of five foot nothing and stared vacantly at Dean for a moment. She held a crescent wrench in her left hand and a bloody bandage covered with grease in her right. She motioned toward the house with the wrench and said, "Bobby's inside." That said, she turned her expressionless face away from Dean and climbed back under the car.
Dean just stood there for a moment, before he recovered himself and headed toward the house. He was shocked at what had not been said. There should have been yelling, name calling, cursing , and probably a few punches. He and Catie hadn't gotten along in ages and after he'd blown off her calls and not told her about his father's death, he expected her to fly out from under that car and lay into him. The fact that she had been so quiet and calm disturbed him more than he cared to admit. He stole one last look at the car before stepping up onto the porch a few feet short of the doorway.
Bobby met them at the door, thankfully unarmed, but the look he shot Dean clearly said his shotgun wasn't far away. Bobby sat down on the sagging couch disturbing a rather large pile of dust and motioned to the boys to sit. Dean chose the chair furthest from Bobby and let Sam sit between them just to be safe.
"What was that call all about Bobby?" Sam blurted out when he couldn't take the silence anymore and his curiosity got the better of him. Bobby sighed and not acknowledging that he even heard Sam, started to speak in a tired voice.
"She heard, you know." It was a statement, not a question and Dean nodded in understanding.
"She'd just come in from working out back and heard me yell that your daddy was dead clear across the house. She dropped the coffee she was holding, and the mug shattered all over the floor. Bloodied herself up pretty bad picking up the pieces. But before I could get to her, she just turned and run out the house. Been under that GTO ever since." Bobby hoped he was making some sort of an impression on Dean, but he just sat staring at the wall. Sam looked back and forth between Bobby and Dean, having a hell of a time trying to piece together what had happened. Dean said nothing, just stood, stepped out onto the porch, and sat on the top step, facing the sunset and the GTO and the little feet. Sam stood to follow but Bobby held his hand up and stopped him.
"Bet you're lost as hell and Dean hasn't told you a thing, huh?" Sam laughed at this and nodded. Bobby continued, "Well, why don't you go out there and talk to Catie. I promise, she ain't gonna bite you."
Sam looked hesitantly at Bobby and said, "But I don't even know her. She's not going to talk to me." He looked down at his shoes than back up at Bobby rubbing his hands nervously up and down his pant legs.
"You know her better than you think. Now go on out there and talk to her. Don't you worry son, you'll get it." Bobby patted him on the shoulder and winked before heading out to the kitchen in search of more beer.
Sam stood and walked slowly, wondering what the hell he was going to say and trying to piece together what was going on. He shuffled up to the front fender of the car kicking up small clouds of dust in his wake. Little blue and white sneakers still stuck out from under the hood. He leaned down and tapped one lightly, his hand almost dwarfing the tiny foot beneath it. She slid out from under the car and stood up, looking up at him curiously. Sam stared at her face closely and suddenly he knew. The red ponytail, the big green eyes, everything looked familiar now.
"Bellie?" Sam asked softly. She tilted her head to one side and her eyes finally met his.
"Sammy?" She took two steps and was in his arms. "You got so big," she said, the top of her head barely reaching his chest. He laughed and looked down at her upturned face, "And you didn't."
Her laugh was soft and her face rubbed against his shirt. When she stepped back, he finally got a good look at her. She was wearing a long sleeve tee-shirt and a pair of denim overalls at least two sizes too big for her. It seemed as though there was more hair out of her ponytail than in it. Sam was amazed he recognized her at all considering she was thoroughly coated from head to toe in dirt and grease. Dean looked up from where he sat and glared at the two of them as they walked toward the house. They were immersed in conversation, her face turned up toward him and his bent low to hear her. He stood quickly, turned and stomped into the house letting the screen door slam behind him. Sam and Catie looked at one another, shrugged, and followed him in.
Catie and Sam hadn't seen one another in years, since right before things between she and Dean had gone wrong yet again. They'd gone from the best of friends to barely being able to be in the same room together. Sam had never seen her again until now. Dean walked in, and within seconds Catie was up and out the door, mumbling something to Sam about taking a shower.
"Let it go Sammy," Dean said as he dropped heavily onto the couch, handing Sam one beer and keeping the other for himself.
"Let go of what Dean? I didn't even say anything."
"But you were going to. You've got that 'I want to have a long talk' face on."
"Well, you and Bellie aren't talking to each other. And she won't talk at all. What happened to her?"
"She's upset about John, Sam. She really hasn't said much of anything since she found out. To her, it seems like he just died yesterday," Bobby's voice startled them. Sam turned to look at Bobby leaning against the doorframe. "Sam, why don't you and I go for a ride?"
Sam stood and followed Bobby out the door. He turned once to look back at Dean, but he didn't seem to notice. He was staring at the floor between his feet, oblivious to Sam's attention. They walked in silence for a moment before coming to the garage. Bobby opened the door of the GTO and got behind the wheel. Sam got in and took one look back at the house.
"You sure we should leave Bellie and Dean in that house alone together?" Sam laughed nervously.
"Hey Sam, how come you call her Bellie?"
"When Dad used to get frustrated with her, when we were little, he used to call her by her first and middle name. You know, Caitlin Arabella. I was just a baby then and I thought he said Bellie. It just kind of stuck, and I've never called her anything else. I actually didn't know who she was when you and Dean were talking about Catie at first." Sam looked at Bobby, suddenly worried. "Wasn't Bellie working on this car? Are you sure we should be driving around in this?"
Bobby laughed and looked over at Sam's slightly horrified face. "Catie was just replacing the clutch, a set of brake pads, oil change, and a tune up. She wouldn't leave the job unfinished before she left."
"What do you mean left? Is she going away?" Sam asked, hoping that he maybe had heard Bobby wrong.
"Nah. Not away, just home. She still lives in the old lake house. Just comes here a few days a week to help out with the garage and watch the Royals games with me. Goes home to work four nights a week. She's been a bartender at a little place around the corner from the lake house for a while now." Bobby watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He was doing the nervous rubbing his hands up and down his pant legs thing again.
"Sam, what's on your mind?" Bobby was pulling the car up in front of a small bar. Old country music wafted across the dirt lot as an old man with a giant belt buckle and a plaid shirt walked unsteadily out the door.
"I wanna know what happened, between Bellie and Dean. Why do they hate each other so much?" Sam was sure Bobby must know. He was hoping Bobby could tell him the truth…Dean never liked to talk, especially about himself.
"Sam, I don't know everything. I know he thinks she let you all go when you moved out of the lake house. That she didn't fight for you. That's how it all started."
"Bobby, she was what, nine years old? How could she do anything?"
"They both were. She and Dean had a fight, it got a little physical and she ended up with a couple of bruises. Children's Services showed up at her school asking a bunch of questions. She came straight home and told John and two days later, you and your brother were packed up and on the road. He just couldn't risk losing you two. They were just kids; having a stupid argument. And you know how stubborn Dean is, well Catie is just as bad." Bobby sighed, got out of the car, and headed toward the bar. Sam followed him in and sat down in one of the booths at the back.
"She was trying to protect you all. She thought it would be better if Dean was mad at her instead of your daddy. John needed to get the two of you out of there and she knew he couldn't take her with him. So she picked a fight with your brother, and being the people they were, they wouldn't back down. He told her he was glad to leave and he never wanted to see her again. She said that was fine with her. That got Dean in the car without a fight before the social worker showed up."
Sam and Bobby ordered a couple of beers from the waitress when she walked up to them. She dropped a basket of pretzels on the table and headed toward the bar with their order.
"Why don't I remember any of this? I would have been right there." Sam was sure there was more to this story than Bobby was telling him.
"You were only five, Sam." Sam didn't look very convinced. "You always napped in the afternoon, when Catie and Dean came home from school. She would sit with you until you fell asleep everyday. You slept through it, and she put you in the back of the car. By the time you woke up, ya'll were already halfway to Wisconsin. At least that's how John told it." When the waitress came with their beers, Sam took a long drink from it, before setting it down on the worn oak table.
"What happened after that? You said that a social worker came." Bobby cleared his throat a few times and stared at his beer. Damn, that kid just had to know everything. "They uh…they took her. I didn't get there in time to pick her up. I went to the social worker's office and I did eventually get her back, but it took a little more than ten months between court and home inspections and supervised visits in some white room."
Sam scratched at the label on his beer bottle absently with his thumb. He thought about all the times they moved to avoid social workers. How often his dad had drilled into him and his brother how to answer their questions, how important it was to say things just right. A thought hit Sam suddenly. "Dean doesn't know, does he?"
"No, just me and John. When Catie came back, she was different. She was quiet…wouldn't talk…barely ate…hardly slept. And when she did, it wasn't long before she woke up, shaking like a leaf. It was a long time before she didn't jump every time I walked by her. Used to lose it pretty bad when I left the house and she didn't know where I was." Bobby hadn't looked at Sam the whole time he had been speaking. He sat, eyes focused on the floor a few feet away. When he sensed Sam was about to ask, he said, "I don't know much about it. She still doesn't really talk about it, and at the time I couldn't bring myself to think what might have gone on. I know there were six homes in that ten months, and I got back a different little girl than I remembered."
Bobby waved his beer at the waitress and she headed to the bar to bring them another round. He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment. His boot scraped across the floor, and he tapped his toe against the table leg. He continued to avoid Sam's gaze, but felt it boring into the side of his head.
"And Dean thinks she just let us walk away, moved in with you, and went on with her life?" Bobby just nodded and started in on his second beer. "Why didn't she tell him?"
"You ever try to tell your brother something he didn't want to hear?" Sam looked at Bobby and laughed.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sam took another long drink from his beer and tried not to think about what might have happened in those foster homes.
"But that can't be all. They were friends again. I remember being at the house. I was maybe eleven…so they would have been fifteen. That was the last time I saw her. What happened then?" Sam finally had someone willing to answer questions, and he wasn't about to stop now.
"I remember what John told me about it. That was the beginning of the end of their friendship. There was some big dance at Catie's school. She was nominated for something…I think it was Homecoming Court. Anyway, Dean promised to take her, and while she was waiting for him to pick her up, he was sleeping with her best friend." Sam stared at Bobby, more than a little shocked by what he had just said. "I don't think he did it to hurt Catie intentionally, and I don't know the whole story. But it got real ugly between them after that. John ended up taking her to that dance and they gave her a tiara…Homecoming Princess or something, because she was the youngest senior and her best friend was on the dance committee."
"She graduated at fifteen?" Sam was almost a little jealous. He was used to thinking of himself as the smart one.
"Nah. Sixteen. Scheduled extra classes and never had a study hall. Took night classes at the University of Nebraska. Wanted out of school early so she could start working. That's how she knew something was wrong with your daddy. She sent checks every month to a mail drop. He always cashed them within a couple of months." Bobby stood and headed over to pay the bill and Sam followed. "You know, you can talk to Catie too, and you don't gotta figure it all out in one night either." Bobby laughed. He had always been blown away by Sam's almost inexhaustible curiosity.
Bobby offered to let Sam drive back, but he just shook his head, too lost in his thoughts to attempt to get behind the wheel. The house was dark when they got home, save one brightly lit kitchen. Catie sat on the counter, smelling of soap and dressed in clean overalls, swinging her bare feet against the cabinets below, already more than a few shots into a bottle of whiskey as she spoke on the phone. She seemed unaware of the two men standing in the doorway, too lost in her own conversation to notice.
"Jimmy Donnelly, you don't learn how to shift that car right and its gonna rot in the garage because I'm not gonna put another clutch in her this year. It's a sin anyone would let you have that GTO and not teach you how to drive a stick." Her face was drawn in a frown and grew redder by the moment.
"Catie, you go easy on that boy now. It's ain't his fault he's a few pliers short of a toolset." Catie's head shot up at Bobby's reprimand and she giggled.
"You can pick it up tomorrow Jimmy. Bobby just took it for a test drive and its all ready for you. I'll wash it in the morning. Its gonna be $850, you know. But Bobby says you can pay in installments if that works better for you. Should be ready by 8:00. I head back to the lake house at 9:00, but Bobby will be here all day if you need to pick it up later. Ok then…see ya tomorrow." Catie hung up the phone and turned to look at Bobby. "You can look at it now," she said as she held out the hand bearing the bandage. It was still covered in blood and grease and was more than a little soggy from the shower.
"All right then, let's have a look there, Half Pint." Catie wrinkled her nose at the childhood nickname but laid down on her stomach across the counter and placed her hands over the sink. After much scrubbing and disinfecting, he picked several small shards of the ceramic mug out of her palm. She had laid patient and still, while Bobby studied her hands.
"All set now. Let me just get a bandage." Bobby rummaged through the first aid kit. "And at least try to keep this one clean, huh?" He laughed at her indignant face. She looked down at her freshly scrubbed hands.
"Aww Bobby, you cleaned my nails too. Look at that. How'd you get all the grease out?"
"With the Super Scrub. That's what its there for. Good Lord, how do you work at the bar with dirty fingernails?"
"I have that stuff at home. I just figured that you didn't because you've always got dirty hands," she said as she winked at him and hopped off the counter. "Whatcha doin' Sammy?"
"Nothing. I was just going to check on Dean. I haven't seen him since we left." Catie frowned and walked over to the window.
"He's out back working on the Impala. I saw him go out a couple of hours ago. Let me show you where your room is," she said as she waved a six pack and the bottle of whiskey behind Bobby's back and grinned.
Sam just smiled and followed her up the stairs with his duffel bag. There were four bedrooms, two on each side of the hall. The first on the left held a twin size bed and a dresser. There was a nightstand and a single window that faced the backyard. Sam dropped his bag on the bed and followed Catie into the room next to it.
Her room was similar to his, with very little furniture and no personal belongings except for a few pictures on the dresser. He walked over and picked up the first. It was one of him, Dean and Catie all asleep in a rocking chair. Dean sat next to her, their heads leaned against one another and Sammy in her lap, facing her, sleeping against her shoulder, his thumb in his mouth and his other hand on Dean's leg. He guessed by their size that Dean and Catie were about seven or eight, they had faded superhero pajamas on, Sam wore just a tee shirt and a diaper.
"I can't believe you still have all these pictures," Sam said as he took a beer from her. He looked at the second. This one was just Dean, Sam, and their dad. Dean had just gotten the Impala and Sam stood next to him. John stood a little behind them with a proud smile on his face. There was one of Catie, Bobby, and John at the lake house that looked recent, her hair fell in waves past her shoulders and she wasn't wearing her ever present overalls. Sam's attention was drawn to the last one at the end of the dresser.
"Is this you, Bellie? What happened to your face?" Sam studied the photo. Catie couldn't have been more than four, sitting in John's lap, his arm protectively around her waist. She had managed a small smile for the camera. Her right eye was black, her left had a small cut just below the eyebrow, and her bottom lip was swollen. One tiny hand rested on John's arm, the other held a fistful of his shirt.
"Yeah. That was the night I came to live with you. Your dad had Bobby take this picture in case anyone came looking for me, but no one ever did. Didn't you hear this story before?" She popped the top on her beer and climbed up on the bed.
"Nah. They hardly ever would talk about you once we left," he said almost apologetically as he studied the photo. "What happened to you?"
"I don't remember all of it, I was really little. My mother died about a week after I was born…infection, I think. I don't think my dad ever recovered from it. I do remember that he used to drink a lot and cry and one night I broke this picture frame with a picture of my mom in it when I was supposed to be in bed. He kind of lost it and he hit me a few times. I tried to run away and he chased me and somehow we both went tumbling down the stairs. When we landed at the bottom, he wasn't moving. I called John on the phone and he came and got me."
"You called him? How'd you find him?" Sam remembered how paranoid their dad was. He figured when their house had burned down, his dad had just left and never looked back.
"I used to be at your house all the time before…before your mom died. Dean and I were friends…well we used to be." She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath. "The night after your dad moved out of his friend's house and bought the lake house, he gave me a phone number written on a little piece of paper. He told me he had to leave Kansas and go away, but if I needed him, all I had to do was call and he'd be there. He always kept his promises." She looked up at him and smiled. "Wow, you're really breaking out with the tough questions tonight, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry about that." Sam reached for another beer and she handed it to him.
"No worries, Sammy. I was just giving you a hard time. So, what have you been up to lately?"
She spent the next hour listening to Sam talk about things that had happened over the last year on the road. Dean walked up the stairs, exhausted from working on the car and the hot shower that had followed. He heard Sam and Catie laughing and his breath caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to listen but he felt like he was frozen at the top of the stairs.
"-and so she asked if we were looking at antique shops for the weekend. And it almost killed Dean, but he said we loved antiques. So when she was getting us a room, she asked if we wanted a king size bed. And…and you should have seen his face-" Sam was fighting to control his laughter and losing, all the beer and the long day making him a little giddy.
"She thought you and Dean were a…a couple? That's so wrong." Catie scrunched
up her nose and giggled.
"Dean told her I had this…this huge old doll collection at home. And I had to tell this lady that…that I loved dolls and had to beg her to look at all of hers, I almost killed him right there."
"A doll collection…oh my God." Catie and Sam had completely lost it by then, and collapsed into a fit of laughter on the bed.
Dean wanted so badly to go in there, but he remembered how bad things turned out when he and Catie tried to talk, hell, even be in the same room with each other. So he settled for stomping across the hall and shutting the door behind him slightly harder than necessary.
The next morning, Catie rolled over and stretched sending a few bottle caps clattering across the wooden floor. She headed out to the garage and washed down and dried Jimmy's GTO as promised, then headed into the kitchen. Sam came downstairs to the smell of brewing coffee and pancakes. Catie sat on the counter in her usual oversized overalls drinking coffee from a huge mug, and pointed toward the table where she had made breakfast. After waking Bobby, she packed her things into an old pick-up truck out in the back of the salvage yard.
"Hey Sammy," she said as she poked her head back into the kitchen. "You got a minute?"
Sam got up from the table where he had been eating breakfast with Dean and Bobby. She walked back outside and climbed up to sit on the hood of the truck and Sam followed.
"I have to go, I have work tonight. But if you want to come visit for a while, you're always more than welcome to stay at the lake house with me. That house is partly yours and Dean's anyway." Catie swung one leg against the grill of the truck waiting for his response.
"I want to, but Dean isn't going to willingly take a break from hunting right now and things between you two are still so bad. And, I don't think he's ready to see all dad's things and be in that house again." Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. "He can't even talk about dad yet without hitting things."
"I know, I guess I just don't want to say goodbye again so soon. But remember, that offer for a visit is always good. Here's my cell number and directions to the lake house if you change your mind or even if you just need something, you can call anytime." She looked up at him and smiled and he couldn't help smiling back.
Sam took the paper from her, folded it and put it in his wallet. He saved the number to his cell and gave her his number as well. They hugged, and Catie hopped up in her truck, dragged the creaky old door shut, and said goodbye to Sam. She tore out of the yard, spraying gravel in her wake and headed toward the little two lane highway that would take her home.
Sam walked back into the small kitchen. Dean and Bobby still sat eating pancakes like it was their last meal. Sam poured himself another cup of coffee and joined them at the table.
"She's gone. She said she'll call tomorrow and let you know if she's coming to watch the game on Wednesday." Sam looked at Bobby who just nodded. He turned to look at Dean to gauge his reaction, but his brother remained expressionless. He refused to look up at either Bobby or Sam, his fork occupying all of his attention.
"We should get back on the road, Sam. Ellen called, and she's got a job for us. Go pack your gear, we leave in twenty minutes." Sam and Bobby just stared at him for a moment. Bobby recovered first and cleared the plates from the table. Sam stood and headed up the stairs. It was going to a be a long silent ride in the car on their way to nowhere and Sam wasn't looking forward to the icy glares and snippy comments.
Suburb of Kansas City, Missouri
"Are you sure we have all the remains Dean?" Sam had been lugging long dead people parts out of the cellar and over the hill into the backyard for well over an hour. They had gone in planning on a salt and burn and move on. The one set of remains they had expected to find now consisted of parts at least twelve skeletons at last count. Sam was not entirely convinced this was the end of it.
"Dude, its frigging wet and cold as hell out here. Let's just torch it and be done Sammy." Dean was done listening to Sam whine and bitch, something Dean was sure had to be the eighth and ninth deadly sins.
"I just want to be sure. What if someone else dies because we couldn't be bothered to look, Dean?"
"I checked the whole house Sam, and I didn't see anything. Now quit bitching and help me carry the gear." Dean tossed a match over his shoulder and picked up the two shovels at his feet.
When they were halfway back to the car, the weapons bag flew off Sam's shoulder, knocking him to the ground in the process. Dean turned just in time to see his favorite hunting knife bury itself to the hilt in his own shoulder. Dean looked down in surprise, he couldn't even feel it, his whole body was numb. Before he had a chance to look over at Sam, he was thrown against one of the stone pillars at the entrance to the garden, the back of his head impacting with a sickening thud.
Sam sat up just in time to see Dean slide to the ground in a boneless heap. He knelt beside his brother and checked the back of his head. There was very little blood, but a large bump was forming where he had bounced off the granite. Dean was unconscious, and the shoulder wound was bleeding profusely. Sam was at a loss as to what to do, this was more than he could patch up. A trip to the hospital was too dangerous; knife wounds would be reported to the police and that was attention they couldn't afford. But without medical treatment, Dean would die. Sam called Bobby on his cell from the car.
"Bobby, it's Sam." Sam's panicked voice made Bobby sit up in bed. " Dean's hurt, and I need to get him help, but he's got a knife wound. I don't want to risk getting the police involved, but he hit his head pretty hard, he's been unconscious for a few minutes now." Bobby sat on the edge of his bed rubbing the sleep off his face.
"Take him to the lake house. Catie knows a doctor that'll keep his mouth shut. I thought it was going to be a quick in and out. What happened, Sam?"
"I don't know exactly. Turned out there was a mass grave under the house. I thought we got it all, but we must have missed something. On the way out, something threw Dean into a pillar and stuck his knife in his shoulder. I should go back and finish it, but Dean's not looking so good." Sam shifted Dean's weight against him as he pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road and floored it.
"Don't worry about it Sam, you probably just missed a couple of bones. I'll head out in the morning and take care of it. Just get Dean to the lake house." Bobby was already stepping into his boots and pulling on his jacket.
"Thanks Bobby, I owe you." Sam sped westward toward the Nebraska state line. Dean faded in and out of consciousness, and occasionally mumbled incoherently.
All Sam's calls to Catie's cell phone went straight to voicemail. He didn't leave any messages. He didn't trust his voice. He just put the accelerator to the floor and drove as fast as he dared toward the one place he knew Dean wouldn't want to be. But at this point, he would be glad to deal with his brother's anger, as long as he was alive to yell at him.
Harlan County Lake, Nebraska
Catie finished her shift at the bar, climbed into her truck, and drove slowly home. The house looked different to her now that she knew for sure that John was gone. Every room, every picture, even the furniture held memories she couldn't hide from. And knowing he was gone felt infinitely worse than thinking he might come back. She climbed into the shower and got lost in the hot water. The smell of beer and smoke washed away and was replaced by the scent of gardenia. She stepped into some sweats and dropped onto the couch in front of the television. God, there was nothing good on late Saturday night, and she was left to decide between the new and improved rotisserie oven infomercial, or Bambi who had lost 120 pounds without dieting or exercise…tough call. The rumble of the Impala outside saved her from an impending TV coma. Catie ran down to the driveway as Sam stepped out of the car.
"Hey Sammy, change your mind about visiting? Where's Dean?" Catie thought they never went anywhere without each other. Sam didn't answer right away, he just walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Catie forced down the huge lump in her throat and stilled her shaking hands. Dean was lying across the front seat of the car, bloody, unconscious, and pale. She pushed her worries to the back of her mind and when Sam looked up at her, she was already back in control of her emotions.
"He hit his head pretty hard, and his shoulder won't stop bleeding. I left the knife where it was; I was afraid he would bleed to death if I pulled it out. Bobby said you knew a doctor. Can you call him?" Sam's hands shook as he lifted Dean from the car under his arms. Catie grabbed his legs and they carried him to the house.
"Here's some towels. Keep that knife stable and I'll get the first aid kit." Catie grabbed the plastic case from the kitchen, already on the phone with Dr. Weldon. "Please Mike. I know its Saturday night, but this is an emergency…he might not have a lot of time…yeah, concussion, pretty bad and a six inch blade, serrated and still in his right shoulder…how long? No, he can't wait…look, I promised a long time ago…I have to keep it. Get here…now!" Catie all but screamed into the phone and hung up without saying goodbye.
"Its still bleeding. He's lost a lot of blood." Sam held towels over his brother's chest. Catie sat on the couch and laid Dean's head in her lap. She held a flashlight over his head and frowned.
"How's his head?" Sam was watching her shine the light in Dean's eyes. She looked at him and sighed.
"His eyes aren't reacting equally and his responses to my questions don't make any sense." She passed a hand across his cheek and whispered something in his ear Sam couldn't quite hear. Dean shifted restlessly, and his hands pulled weakly at Sam's where he was trying unsuccessfully to stop the bleeding. Catie took his hands in hers and held them against her. She leaned down again and spoke to him reassurances and promises she wasn't sure she could make good on.
Dean laid still while blurry objects danced in and out of his field of vision. He thought he could feel the world spinning. Every time he opened his eyes, the fuzzy objects bounced and made him feel nauseous and hurt his head. He closed his eyes again and turned his face into something soft. He leaned into the warmth and let unconsciousness take him again.
Dr. Mike Weldon examined his patient thoroughly before patching him up. The knife seemed to have miraculously missed the major vessels, and the wound stopped bleeding almost immediately after it was cleaned and stitched. He inserted an IV in Dean's left hand. Before it was even connected to fluid, Dean attempted to pull at it. Mike taped his hand to a foam board and wrapped the whole hand in gauze. He secured Dean's right arm to his chest with a sling.
"The shoulder is going to heal up just fine and if you can keep the IV in his hand, antibiotics should kill any infection off. I am worried about his head injury though. I won't know anything until we can get a CT scan. We can get him in at the outpatient clinic in the morning. No one will be there. It's closed on Sundays. Wake him up every two hours and watch the IV; he keeps trying to pull at it. Bring him to the outpatient center at 9:00, park in the back, and I'll meet you there." He handed Catie eight vials and several syringes. "You mix them up the same way you did the time that bastard got you with the barbeque skewers." Catie shot Mike a look and he quickly dropped the topic of skewers. "I brought a pump. Put the syringe in like this and run it over thirty minutes. You put this saline on after the antibiotics, and run that over five minutes. Make sure you alternate these every four hours. And you need to keep replacing these bags of saline so he will stay hydrated. I'll leave you instructions on mixing the meds and how to give them in case you forget."
"Thanks Mike, I really appreciate this. I'm sorry I yelled at you on the phone earlier, but you know…" She looked down at Dean's face and then back up at Mike.
"Yeah, I know. I'll see you in the morning." Mike sighed loudly, took his box of supplies, and saw himself out.
"Let's put him to bed. I've been using your dad's old room, we can put him in there." They carried Dean over to the bed, changed him into some sweats, and laid him under the blankets. Sam moved a coat rack over by the bed and hung Dean's IV bag from one of the hooks. "He's going to be fine Sammy, I promise. Let's get you cleaned up and get you something to eat." Catie handed Sam a towel and headed toward the kitchen.
Sam emerged from the first hot shower he'd had in months and went in search of Catie. He found her kneeling on the counter, her head buried inside one of the cabinets. She emerged triumphantly with a box of Frankenberry and some chocolate cupcakes with cream filling. "I was supposed to go shopping over a week ago. I don't have much here." She smiled and hopped off the counter. They had some cereal and headed back to check on Dean.
"You want to sleep in your old room? You've got to be exhausted, and I can wake Dean up during the night." Sam looked like he was about to object. "Really Sammy, its ok. You really look like you're about to fall down." She led him to the room next to his dad's old one. She pushed the door open and pulled a cloth from the twin bed by the wall. "Get some rest. I promise, I'll wake you if anything happens with Dean." Sam held a hand out to her and she took it and he pulled her into a tight hug.
"Thank you," Catie said muffled into Sam's chest so softly he almost didn't catch it.
"For what? Taking over your house on a Saturday night, pissing off your friend, and getting blood all over your couch?" Sam held on to Catie a moment longer before placing a hand beneath her chin and tipping her head up to look at him.
"For bringing him here, for keeping him safe when he couldn't do it for himself." Catie looked at Sam's confused face.
"I thought you two hated each other. You having a change of heart or something?" Sam could feel Catie shake slightly beneath his hands.
"I never hated him Sam. I'll love him my whole life. But it won't ever be enough. There's too much history, too many things neither of us can take back." Her voice was quieter than usual and she kept her face buried in Sam's shirt. She stepped back and busied herself putting new sheets on the bed. "You ever tell him I said that, and I'll kill you…no matter how much I love you." She flashed him a smile and grabbed a comforter out of the closet and Sam helped her lay it out.
"I'm just going to check on Dean real quick, I'll be right back." Catie turned and walked from the room leaving Sam with his thoughts. There had to be more between Catie and Dean than either of them let on. More than a few arguments and couple of fist fights and Sam was going to know what it was because not knowing everything was driving him crazy.
This place felt familiar to Sam, and he was amazed at how safe he felt here. Next to the bed was the rocking chair from the picture at Bobby's house. He walked toward a large object by the window covered with another sheet. He reached up to tug at it, and jumped when he heard Catie's voice from the door.
"You know what that is?" Sam shook his head as she walked over to him and helped him pull the cloth down.
"Oh my God. This was mine, wasn't it?" Sam stood staring, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I can't believe you kept it."
"I didn't; your dad did. You know how you two used to argue a lot? When he lost his temper, and took off, he would come here sometimes. Just sit here and look at it, like he was saying what he couldn't to your face. He wanted to make things work, but he was just so stubborn." Sam laughed and ran his hand up the metal rail.
"God, we used to fight like cats and dogs. No matter how we tried, it just felt like we never agreed on anything." Sam voice was quiet and she almost didn't hear what he had said.
"He knew you tried. He came here the night you left for Stanford. He wasn't really mad at you, he was afraid. Your whole life, you were right there where he could keep you safe. And then suddenly, he had to stand back and watch you grow up and take care of things on your own. We were all scared for you." Catie moved next to Sam where he stood staring into the old metal crib he used to sleep in. They had gotten it when the county medical center renovated. It was huge; as big as the twin bed next to it, and the rails grated when the side was raised or lowered, but it had been a steal for twenty bucks when money was tough to come by. "I helped your dad hang that mobile. Well, I didn't really help. He just let me stand in the middle of the mattress and hand him tools he didn't really need." She gave his arm a squeeze and turned away.
"Night Catie. Thanks for having us."
"No worries Sammy, I'm glad you came back. You let me know if you need anything. Good night." Catie grabbed a blanket from the closet for herself and headed into the next room. She pulled the blankets back up that Dean had kicked off and settled in the chair next to the bed. For the longest time she just sat, watching him sleep.
The next morning, Sam rolled over and stretched, his feet slipping off the end of the mattress. The muscles in his arms and chest were sore, most likely from yesterday's hunt. He opened his eyes and instinctively looked for the bed next to his that would hold his brother, and then all at once the memories of the past night came crashing down on him. He untangled himself from the sheets and blankets that held him in his bed, and went to see Dean.
The scene in front of him would have been funny as hell, if it wasn't for the fact that his brother was hurt. Catie lay on her back in the middle of the bed, with Dean lying face down across her upper body. His sling was discarded on the floor next to a small trash can at least a third full of what Sam could only guess was vomit. At least as much was all over Catie as there was in the trash can, and a large puddle of drool marked the front of her sweatshirt where Dean's head rested against her.
With his face relaxed in sleep, Dean looked younger and more vulnerable than he had in a long time and for a moment Sam could pretend all that they had been through in the last few months was just a bad dream. Sam missed his brother's smile and even his teasing a little. He really wanted Dean to wake up right now and make some obnoxious or inappropriate comment, but he was still out like a light…completely unlike the alert and overprotective brother he normally was.
Dean shifted in his sleep and mumbled something incoherently. Catie placed her hand on his back, murmured into his ear, and he stilled instantly. Sam was definitely going to have her show him that trick someday…how to make Dean shut up was something he was still trying to figure out.
Sam tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder. She slowly came back to reality and her eyes met Sam's. She looked down at Dean and smiled softly. She whispered something to Dean that Sam couldn't quite catch and slid out from under him as gently as she could.
"Ugh. I need a shower." Catie looked down at her clothes and wrinkled her nose. "And I smell really bad. How'd you sleep?"
"Good. I barely remember even going to bed. I'm guessing by the look of your clothes, you didn't get
much sleep, huh?"
"Not really. Between the antibiotics, the IV fluids, the nightmares, the constant moving, and the endless throwing up, I hardly had time. Just give me five minutes to shower and change and we'll hit the drive-thru down the street for coffee, ok?"
"Sounds good. What should we do with Dean? I think he has some more sweats in his bag."
"Actually, he managed to stay clean, he just threw up all over me," Catie said as she pulled the offending sweatshirt off and tossed it into the laundry basket in the corner. She shivered in her tank top and turned toward the bathroom, but not before Sam saw several small round pink scars on her otherwise unmarred shoulders. He made a mental note to ask Dean where they came from when he woke up.
Harlan County Medical Center
Outpatient Care Satellite
Dr. Weldon was waiting as promised behind the medical building when they pulled up shortly before 9:00. They managed to get Dean from the Impala to the CT scanner. Things were going well until Mike tried to strap Dean to the table. He began to flail and almost fell off the table. Sam tried to calm him down while Mike pushed a medication through his IV.
"NO! STOP!" Catie shoved the hand with the syringe in it away from Dean too late to stop the medication from infusing. "What did you just give him? It didn't have morphine in it, did it?" Catie looked fearfully at Sam and then back at the doctor, her voice edged with a panic Mike had never heard from her before.
"No. Why?" Mike looked surprised at his friend's uncharacteristic outburst.
"He's allergic. It makes him really sick." Sam answered for her.
"I really appreciate you doing this for us Mike, but you gotta be careful with him ok? If he gets morphine, he could die, he's really allergic."
Mike pulled Catie to the side by her arm and spoke softly to her. From where they stood, Sam could not hear them. But every few seconds she looked over and smiled reassuringly at him. As they walked back toward him and Dean, he caught the end of the conversation.
"Yeah. I got it. No morphine, ok? Relax Cate…I know what I'm doing here."
"I know you do, and you didn't have to help us. You have no idea how thankful I am. But that's my whole world over there; my family. And if anything happens to them, I'm responsible, ok? So I trust you, but don't tell me to relax, because I can't until I know he's going to be ok." Catie walked over to the table and held Dean's hand while Mike and Sam secured him to the scanner.
The whole thing took less than ten minutes. Mike was studying the images on the computer screen as Sam and Catie waited. A few minutes later, he turned to face them.
"Well, the rest of his skull is intact. There is a tiny fracture at the back, here. I'm assuming that's where he impacted the pillar. There is a large hematoma between his skin and his skull and a moderate amount of fluid between his skull and his brain. It may resolve on its own as long as the swelling doesn't get any worse. "
"What happens if it does?" Sam asked from the other side of the desk.
"Well, then that would exceed what I can do for him here. You'd have to take him to the hospital at that point. He'd need surgery to release the pressure on his brain."
"How likely is it that this will resolve on its own without surgery?" Catie asked, finally finding her voice.
"About 50/50. We'll do another scan in a few days. We should have a better idea by then if the swelling is going to go away on its own or not. Until then, you're going to have to watch him for signs that the pressure in his head is increasing. I'll give you a paper with all the things you have to watch out for. I'll just grab that at the nurse's desk." Mike disappeared into the front of the office.
Catie followed Sam back into the scanner room and began to unfasten the restraints. Fluid ran over the side of the table and dripped onto the floor. Catie called for Mike as he was coming around the corner with the promised information.
"I think his IV is leaking." Catie held up the hand bearing the IV and showed it to Dr. Weldon.
"Its dry, Cate, maybe the leak is in the tubing." She followed the IV line up to the bag, but couldn't find any holes in it.
"Um…Bellie? Sam's voice only gaining half of her attention.
"Huh?" Catie answered distractedly, her gaze still fixed on Dean's IV line.
"I think its pee." Catie looked up at Sam, her eyes like saucers and her lips a perfect "O" of surprise. She followed his eyes to the table. Sure enough, Dean's entire midsection was soaked when Sam pulled back the blanket.
"I'll get you some towels and scrubs," Mike said as he quickly left the room.
"Why didn't it wake him up?" Sam looked questioningly at the doctor as he returned with a large stack of towels. Sam could not remember a time, even when injured that his brother had looked so vulnerable.
"His brain is injured Sam. Its just trying to heal and protect itself. He may be like this for days, in and out of consciousness. And even then, some symptoms can persist for weeks."
"Weeks? He's going to be like this for weeks?" Sam couldn't comprehend what he was being told.
"No. Not like this. This should start to resolve in a couple days. He'll become more and more lucid as the swelling goes down. But some symptoms may take weeks to fully disappear. He'll be easily confused, and simple tasks will seem difficult. Things you take for granted like tying your shoes, or brushing your teeth, or even going to the restroom. Just try to be patient with him. From what you told me, he took quite a hit to the head." Mike smiled at Sam and handed him the stack of towels.
"Its your turn Sammy, I dealt with the puke." Catie looked up at Sam's horrified face.
"Uh-uh. I carried his ass in here. You deal with the pee…nowhere in my job description was changing my brother." Sam stood toe to toe with Catie staring down at her. She rolled her eyes and turned back toward Dean.
"Well, its not in mine either. How about you help me. I'll even let you torment him about it first when he wakes up."
"Deal. Let's get this over with." Sam tossed half the dry linens to Catie.
"Help me get him back in the car, Bellie." Catie helped Sam pick up a now dry Dean and carry him to the car. They pulled out of the parking lot with no more answers than when they had arrived, and neither spoke, too worried to voice the questions that bounced around in their tired minds.
Lake House
After getting home and settling Dean in bed, Sam and Catie looked at the sad state of the kitchen. Sam headed into town, hoping to buy enough supplies to allow them to camp out in the house for at least a week or two. He'd remembered driving by one of those super sized Wal-Mart stores on his way back from the doctor's clinic. He flew through the aisles tossing food and objects into his cart and made it to the check out in record time. He hastily paid for his purchases and left, hoping to get back as soon as possible.