Getting To The Bottom of This.
Summary: Tall Tales wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The majority of Sam's irritability came from the fact he was sick, and not only of his brother. The boy's stay at Ellen's to recuperate, but she ships them to an old family friend after she gets fed up with their bickering. As both brothers recall old memories of their so-called 'Aunt Mandy' more questions surface than answers; why does she move so much? Why did she disappear for such long periods of time throughout their childhoods? How does she know Bobby, Ellen and John? And what is with her fascination of water and local aquariums? As Sam gets better, neither brother can help but wonder what her secret is and why she hid it for so long.
Disclaimer: I don't claim to own anything belonging to the "Supernatural" realm. I will put my stamp of approval on all original characters, and hope they meet the fandom's high standards. All characters pictures can soon be found on my homepage.
Chapter 1
Dean knew from the second Sam stepped into the Impala that he was ill. It was the little things that Sam tried to hide, like the way he clenched his jaw or constantly ran his hand through his hair- which just so happened to be his nervous tick. Sam was also frequently forming his hand into a fist and relaxing it over and over again, clenching his jaw in time to the movements. Something was wrong, but both brothers were too stubborn to speak up. Dean knew, or at least thought he knew, that if Sam was really sick he'd say something- it was an unspoken rule that you never hunted when you were sick, let alone jeopardized another hunter's life by hunting when sick. But Sam knew that he'd have to vomit up a liver in order for his brother to believe that he had a stomachache and actually listen to him.
Dean caught a muscle in Sam's jaw twitch and his left fist clench, along with his right foot dig into the floor mat simultaneously. Though he wasn't quite sure what he had witnessed, he was almost positive no good could come from it.
"Hey," Sam said slowly, trying not to allow his voice to crack.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we could take a pit stop?" Dean sighed.
"Dude, I am not stopping every twenty minutes because you have probably the world's smallest bladder. Cross your legs and suck it up, we'll be across the border in less than an hour."
"An hour?"
"Yeah, an hour if we don't make any stops, which means no breaking of the seal Sasquatch."
Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. If their places were switches, which they only had been once in a blue moon, Sam would have acknowledged his brothers request.
No.
The word echoed over and over again in Sam's head.
No.
Hell, they'd passed up two gas stations in the past fifteen tense minutes and three restaurants. That was a total of five rest areas but no, they had to wait until they'd crossed the Illinois border, make it to the next town, and make it to the next job.
"Quit pouting about this bitch," Dean said catching his eye.
"Jerk." There was no humor in Sam's voice. They drove for another half hour in silence, the stereo blasting an old Journey tape over the grumbling gurgling of Sam's stomach. He finally broke the silence.
"Dean, could we please stop somewhere?" It wasn't the pleading tone of his brother voice that caught him off guard; it was the use of the word please. Dean knew Sam was in over his head if he was using the word please and asking for help, so Dean swallowed thickly, trying to think of what to say.
"I've already told you-"
"But I really need to stop somewhere, anywhere." Sam winced as his stomach cramped yet again, and he clawed his fingers at his abdomen. "Dean?"
"Give me one good reason why I should," Dean muttered, purposely keeping his eyes on the road though he still witnessed his brother's actions from the corner of his eye.
"Because…"
"Because I said so isn't a real answer Einstein." Sam bit back a growl. "Well? I haven't gotten all day for you to play twenty questions and come up with a good excuse for me to pull over so you can curl your eyelashes or something." Sam gave a frustrated sigh.
"It's my stomach, alright?" Dean smirked.
"Aww, has poor Sammy-Wammy got himself a tummy ache?"
"Dean," he said threateningly.
"Alright, alright! I don't want you going all Lynda Blair on me. We'll find some place to stop."
"Dean, it's not that."
"What then? Your time of the month and your all moody and crampy Samantha? Don't get any blood on these seats man, I swear to God I'll-"
"Dean! I'm not nauseated! I don't know what it is alright?!" Sam huffed and crossed his arms, turning to look at the miles upon miles of corn fields from the window. Dean gave him a concerned glance and tried not to roll his eyes at his brothers brooding shoulders.
"Sammy?" Dean cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming chick-flick moment. "I'm sorry, alright? I won't tease you anymore, but at least tell me what's up. I need you to explain things a bit more if you want me to help. What's that quote… help me to help you?"
"I don't know," Sam said quietly, still looking out the window. "I just… my stomach keeps… well, cramping. I just think its best we stop somewhere soon."
Dean nodded.
"Alright, we'll see what-" Dean paused as he read the upcoming welcome sign. "Galesburg, Illinois has to offer. Next gas station I see we'll stop."
"Okay."
Five minutes later the Impala made a left-hand turn into the first gas station they saw. As soon as the engine shut off, Sam had bolted out of his seat and into the thankfully unlocked facilities. It seemed to Dean that now was as good of a time as any to get supplies, seeing as they probably had a good three to four night deal on their hands. Dean reluctantly got up and out of the car, wincing as his back popped and neck stretched back into its normal position. Driving for three hours did major damage on his back, but he shook that off and pulled open the door to the store.
"Hey there," a brunette quipped, not looking up from her newspaper. Dean awkwardly looked around, quickly finding the medicine isle and pausing as he took in all the medications.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.
Even for a small no name gas station, they still had at least fifteen to twenty different medicines for stomach complaints. And since Sam wasn't helping being vague with his symptoms, Dean was left alone in the dark to figure out what to get. Lingering his fingers over the multiple boxes of both liquids and pills, he paused then backtracked as he decided to trust the old faithful and reliable Pepto Bismul. Looking at the three different sizes (of course narrowing it down still didn't make his job any easier,) Dean decided to bite the bullet and buy the super-deluxe economy-size bottle. Cradling the pink medicine in his arms like an infant, he walked further down to stare at the first aid necessities.
Thermometer? No, theirs was still functioning, for it seemed no matter how many times Dean ripped it from his mouth and threw it against the motel wall it still took the correct temperature.
Rectal thermometer? Sammy would kill him for even suggesting it, let alone thinking about it.
Band-aids, antibiotic ointment? No.
Hot water bottle? Dean's eyes strayed across the red rubber bottle, eyebrows knit together. He couldn't remember the last time they had an actual hot water bottle, and Bobby's ice pack didn't count. The last time they'd McGyvere'd some shit together using a glass mason jar wrapped in a stolen hotel towel. He picked it up and was about to walk to the register when the coffee and tea isle caught his eye. Quickly taking in the rectangular boxes of tea, he gave a small smile as he stumbled across a blue box.
"Tummy Mint Wellness. Jackpot," he snickered as he grabbed all three boxes and briskly made his way over to the counter. Stopping at the cooler, he grabbed a few bottles of Gatorade and some bottles of water, juggling the items in his already full arms. The girl smiled as she rang up his items.
"You ill or is that for your co-pilot over there?" Dean glanced over his shoulder to see that Sam was now sitting in the Impala, fidgeting nervously.
"Oh, for him. I can only hope he didn't destroy your bathroom," Dean joked, causing her to give a small chuckle.
"Are you just passing through?" She questioned as she placed his items in a brown paper bag.
"I wish, but it looks like we'll be spending a few nights until he's feelin' better."
"Well I hope he feels better," she said as Dean handed her his credit card for payment. As he signed the receipt, he gave a quick smile and turned to leave.
"Hey, um… Where's a good place to spend a few nights?" She eyed him up and down.
"There's a particularly fabulous B and B down North Cherry Street if you're willing to pay; The Seacord Bed and Breakfast if I'm not mistaken."
"Fab- he's my brother," Dean said with a gesture to Sam.
"Oh! Sorry!" She gave him a now seductive smile. "Well, all up and down Main Street is Hotels and Motels. If you keep going straight, past Grand Avenue and Seminary Street, you'll pass up the hospital and Central Park. That's when you'll start to see a lot more Hotels."
"What were those streets again?" The girl fumbled for a pen and then reached out for Dean's hand.
"You're on Main Street now. You're gonna pass up Grand, Seminary, the hospital and the park. You can't miss them," she gently wrote down the instructions on his palm. "But, if for any reason you get lost you can give me a call. I'm Sandy." Dean looked at his palm to see she'd written her phone number.
"Well thanks Sandy," Dean said and left the store. "Still got it even when buyin' meds for Sammy boy," he muttered as he heard his phone ring. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at it and decided to answer as he sat down in the Impala.
"Hello?" Dean asked as he chucked the brown paper bag in the back seat.
"Dean, its Bobby. Where ya at?"
"Were just about to check into a motel off I-34 in Galesburg, Illinois. We're checking out a poltergeist at the Hill's Correctional Center."
"Where?"
"Galesburg and Monmouth- where Carl Sandburg was born?" Dean could tell Bobby still had no clue, so he quickly snapped at Sam for him to get out their map. Sam slowly unfolded a wrinkled map from the glove compartment and pointed out where they were. "West of Peoria?"
"Oh. I got it."
"You know there's a Winchester, Illinois?" Dean asked incredulously as his fingered their route on the map now placed on his lap.
"Does it matter? There's probably half a dozen or more streets named Winchester too- we've got bigger fish to fry though."
"What do you mean?" Sam glanced over at Dean questioningly.
"Ellen's been callin' around- askin' if anyone's seen Jo recently."
"What? Why?"
"Left a few weeks ago huntin' and no one's heard from her. Listen boy, you haven't seen her have you?"
"No- why would we?" Again, Sam looked at his brother.
"Because y'all are known to keep secrets from everyone- including yourselves."
"Well we haven't. I'll give you a call if we do, and that's a big-ass if." Dean grudgingly hung up the phone, throwing it down on the seat as he slammed the door shut. Starting the engine, neither brother said anything as they merged onto the street and drove for a few minutes. Dean decided to initiate conversation, Sam completely ignoring who called or why.
"So, let's see what we got here Sammy." Sam looked up studying the zipper on his hoodie. "We have our choice of seedy motel a, which has a flickering M and a burnt out O, or seedy motel b, which has a burnt out OT. Your choice." Dean said all this in an overly-peppy game show host voice, gesturing to each motel.
"I don't care," Sam spat out through gritted teeth, one arm now pressed against his cramping stomach. "We just need to stop somewhere soon- that last trip to the can wasn't the most productive trip."
"Well if we're lucky we'll pass up a Sybaris," Dean suggested half-heartedly, smiling at his own joke. Sam made no comment except for a low grunt which he swallowed quickly.
"Watch the road, will you? Would it kill you not to hit every pot hole on the road?"
"Sorry."
"Well sometimes sorry isn't good enough Dean!" Sam immediately regretted his words, but it was too late to take back his statement with its biting tone. "Dean-"
"There's a bunch of motel coming up that's don't look half bad. When you were using-" Dean cleared his throat, causing Sam to shoot him a glare. "-the bathroom I asked someone where to stay. I also got supplies." Sam glanced over to look on the back seat at the brown paper sack.
"Can I?"
"Nothing's stopping you." Upon Dean's approval Sam reached over and placed the bag on his lap, gingerly opening the top. He gave a small smile.
"Dude, you had no clue what to get."
"None what-so-ever." Both brothers smiled in unison. "And I wasn't asking for help."
"Well you did pretty good for not knowing what to get," Sam said as he pulled out each item, examining it thoroughly. "Dude, this bottle of Pepto will last us the rest of our lives."
"Naw, just a month," Dean joked. "You know how you get around Mexican food." Sam tried to hide his embarrassment by reading one of the boxes of tea.
"What made you pick this up," he questioned as he pulled three boxes out. "And what made you decide to clean them out?"
"The kid on the box reminded me of you."
"Aw, well I don't have a rich mother sitting across from me at the table while Granny gives me tea," Sam pointed out, ruining the chick-flick moment.
"Didn't think she was your Mom tiger," Dean said as they made a left-hand turn and he raised his eyebrows at him. "Maybe you're a cougar hunter."
"That's gross Dean." Sam suddenly swallowed thickly, eyes and forehead crinkling in concern.
"Whoa man, what's up?"
"How much further?" Dean looked at his right hand.
"According to Sandy, just a few more blocks. We're on the main strip, we just need to find the motels."
"Sandy?"
"Yep, works at that gas station. Gave me her number, just in case we got lost." Dean laughed. "She thought we were together together."
"That's because you over-compensate for my girly red-headedness," Sam muttered.
"Are you gonna be okay Samantha?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam drummed his fingers against the window, not even noticing his brother's new nickname for him. "But I'd boil some water for that tea."