FIRST OFF:
I want to thank LINDA H. for betaing the entire story! I gotta say, I'm impressed what she did with it.
You can say, that the plot's still mine, but she proofread it & made it sooo much better!
Trigger warnings: Various chapters of this story contain descriptions of past and present torture, PTSD, and suicidal thoughts/actions.
Chapter 1 ~ Anger
Dean was asleep in the driver's seat, resting his head against his baby's cool window, when a quiet noise, slowly getting louder, gently raised him from the depths of slumber. At first he wasn't sure whether it was just his imagination, but the further he left sleep behind, the more real the sounds became.
Dean's neck was stiff and ached as he stirred and slowly opened his eyes. It felt like it was past noon; the windows of the Impala were fogged up, and it seemed pretty cold outside. Thankfully, it wasn't that cold inside the car. He sighed and moaned as he shifted into a more comfortable position in the seat.
The ringing noise ended the same moment that Dean reached for the glove compartment. But just a few seconds later, it started again - coming from one of the many phones with an aggressive ring-tone. Dean rummaged among the phones until he felt the one that was vibrating. He slid it open without looking at the display; with his vision still blurry, he probably wouldn't have been able to make anything out anyway.
As he held the phone to his ear, he rubbed his free hand over his eyes. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice husky from sleep. Hunts were more tiring since he'd been on his own. There were a lot things he missed - for starters, he had no backup. And having to do the research all on his own; Dean wasn't the geeky one. Of course, he'd bought himself his own laptop after he'd left, and of course he knew how to do proper research, but it wasn't what he needed.
Something entirely else was missing. His eyes moved over the empty passenger's seat, and a flood of mixed-up feelings rushed through him - anger, wrath, disappointment, loss... sorrow.
"Hello?" A female voice asked firmly. "This is Nancy Summers from North Dakota State Hospital. Am I speaking to Dean Brown?"
"Yes..." Dean hesitated for a moment. His first thoughts went to Bobby, then Rufus...
"That's fantastic." Her voice sounded nearly relieved as she moved on. "Do you by chance know a Sam Young?"
Sam...
Dean hesitated again. "Yes, I know Sam," he replied tiredly, still far from being awake. "It's been a while since we had contact. Why? Is something wrong?"
It crashed into him - State Hospital... Sam Young... one of his brother's fake IDs...
It'd been a while since they spoke the last time. A pretty long time, actually - about nine weeks, now, since Dean had grabbed all his stuff and taken off, leaving Sam back at the motel.
"May I ask what your relationship is to him?" the woman asked, breaking through Dean's memories. This time she sounded more aware and cautious.
Dean's breath caught for a second. I'm his brother...
"He's my brother," he answered. Dean himself couldn't believe how unemotional he sounded. But Sam wasn't Dean's responsibility anymore. If Sam hadn't been hit by a bus, if he wasn't in serious danger, it was Sam's turn to deal with whatever he had to deal with. That was the agreement.
A sighed "Oh" came back from the other line. It seemed like the girl didn't know what to say next.
She seemed to think for a moment. "Does he have any other family... a mother or father, someone who could be responsible for him?" she asked. "We need an emergency contact."
"Umm... no, no, he doesn't. Why?" Dean's stomach turned upside-down. Nausea gripped him disturbingly and wouldn't let go. The way the girl asked about family, about a contact person...
No...
"I'm responsible for him." As the words left his lips, the knot in his throat tightened. Responsible... he still was, at least, in some fashion. "What happened?"
"I can't tell you what happened over the phone," she said immediately. "You need to get here and talk to one of the doctors first. I'm not allowed to..." Her voice sounded a little bit desperate, full of compassion.
"Could you please tell me what's going on?" Dean started to sound angry, although he didn't want to. "I'm not driving a hundred miles just because of a broken rib or leg. If it's something he can deal with on his own, you can tell him I'm not coming." Yeah, he was still full of anger at Sam. Full of wrath about his brother and himself, even though deep inside he felt empty... hollow.
They'd made it clear the last time they spoke: Cutting each other out of their lives for good.
"I'm sorry, sir." She paused. "I don't want to upset you. I can say that it's not just a broken bone he's dealing with - I'm one of the nurses who take care of your brother." She paused again and sighed deeply. "I'm not allowed to give you any kind of information until you talk to a doctor. But what I can say is, it would be better for your brother to have someone familiar around him right now." Her voice grew more and more sorrowful as she ended her speech. "It took us the past seven days to even get a lead on someone who might know him. If we hadn't finally found your card in his jeans, we wouldn't have ever known there was someone who knows him." ...who cares about him, eventually...
Dean's mind struggled with all the information. What card? They'd both agreed to get rid of everything that could connect them to each other, each of them going their own way, dealing on their own with their hunts until the situation settled... until this whole Michael-versus-Lucifer thing was over.
What could that boy possibly have done to get in the amazingly awful situation it sounded like he had?
"Sir?" the girl asked, hesitatingly. "Maybe there's someone else who could assume responsibility besides you? An aunt or uncle? Any other siblings?"
It had to be pretty bad if his little brother hadn't been able to give them Bobby's number, or even talk about it to the hospital staff. Sam had to be badly injured.
A big stone filled his stomach as he came to this conclusion. Though they'd had their fight, and yes Dean was still damn angry about it and Sam's constant apologizing, he was still his brother nonetheless... He had to check up on him.
"No, it's fine. It's okay. He's my responsibility. So, can you tell me anything about his status?" he asked worriedly, most of his anger gone. "Is there anything you are allowed to tell me?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I-I can't," she said, even more sorrow in her voice. "It really would be better to talk to his doctor once you arrive."
It sounded like Sam was dying, like they'd just called so he wouldn't have to die alone.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked impatiently. "Is he dying?"
Silence for a couple of seconds. It felt like eternity. Then the girl cleared her throat. "No, he's not dying... but..."
Dean heard the "but" from miles away - like something that was worse than dying...
"I am not allowed to give you any information about your brother's status until you have confirmed in person you're his brother and a doctor has talked to you." She sounded apologetic.
Dean nodded. It had to be serious. If Sam wasn't able to take care of this - if they were looking through his belongings - it had to be damn serious.
"It'll take me a couple of hours to get there. I'm in the middle of nowhere," Dean said almost calmly, swallowed his rising uneasiness down.
"Take your time," the nurse said quietly. "No need to see you here as a patient instead of a visitor."
Dean hung up and stared at the phone. She said he should go there, that his brother needed someone familiar, but there was no hurry, he should take his time?! Pieced together, none of it fit. It obviously was serious enough to search for anyone who knew Sam. Serious enough that someone familiar should be around him right now. What the hell had happened? What had taken them so long to call him?
Sam would've phoned him... wouldn't he?
On the other hand, Dean had told him it was better if they stayed away from each other for good. That they should split up and not look back.
Dean bit his lower lip, then started the engine and hit the road.
Direction: North Dakota State Hospital.