II
RISE AND SHINE, SAMMY
Dean had managed for a (pretty) nurse to take pity on him and give him basic treatment. In his hand, he held a small bottle of pills that helped him with the pain he felt running around in his body. The wounds in his hands and face have been disinfected and the ribs...well, that would take it's time anyway. A quick glance at his wristwatch, to confirm that it was nearly 06h30 in the morning, the world was just starting to wake up. Well, not the world, but at least the town of Mercy. Dean takes a glance at his brother and his heart falls heavy with concern. Sam has bandages on his head, gaze around his torso, cuts and bruises all stitched up. Next, to his head, there's a machine that monitors his heartbeats with a well-known "beep"; on his face an oxygen mask. Watching Sam trapped to this hospital bed is a haunting vision. It brings chills up and down Dean's spine and, actually, makes him close his eyes and beg his father for forgiveness, for not watching Sammy and taken care of him as it was his duty to do so.
A soft knock on the door breaks his chain of thoughts. He allows whoever it is to come in and - surprise, surprise - two-man walk in the room. Dean sits in silence, judging and measuring them. Both of them are tall, but one had spiky black hair and the other had blonde wavy hair. One with a long overcoat and the other with a leather jacket. Both with police badges around their necks like dog collars.
Dean tries his best to remain calm.
"Mr Heart?" The black haired one speaks first, showing his police badge. His partner, who remains a few steps back, does the same in silence. "I'm Detective Bell. This is my partner, Detective Bright. Sorry to hear about your brother."
"He'll be back on his feet soon enough," Dean answers, without much enthusiasm. The oldest of the Winchesters remains seated holding the bottle of pills in his closed fist. From where he was seated he could see his jacket on the table covering the metal of his gun. "What can I do for you, Detectives?"
"The hospital called us to look over your brother's case." Detective Bright explains. Meanwhile, Detective Bell is staring at Sam. "Mind telling us exactly what happened?"
"I see," Dean says. "If you don't mind, detectives, there is nothing here. Was just a misunderstanding. That's all."
"Your brother being shot and falling off a building is a misunderstanding?" The detective wonders
"Our family is complicated." Dean states without adding much more. "Nothing happened."
"I see" The detective replies. "The bruises on your face, I'm guessing those were made by your brother?"
"Detective, I appreciate the concern, but nothing happened," Dean replies once more. Meanwhile, detective Bell moves towards the window looking at the rising sun and then to the pavement below. "We are fine. We will be fine."
"Is that your car?" detective Bell asks pointing down below.
"Yes."
"1967 Chevy Impala." The detective sounds impressed. "You guys are from Texas?"
Note to self: Burn that god damned plate as soon as we leave this God-forsaken place! Dean screamed in his head.
"Yes."
"What city?"
"Lewisville."
"Hum...that's a long way."
"Well..." Detective adds showing off a very bright and perfect smile. "We came all the out here, might as well tell us what happened. I insist."
Dean took a few seconds to come up with a story. What story, though? He has no idea what to make out of this! The truth? Oh, but of course. Well, Detective the truth is, my brother and I were followed by a blonde demon bitch infected with a demonic virus. She infected my brother and he tried to kill me and almost succeed. The end.
So, being a very good hunter, and a Winchester, Dean's mind began to work up a story.
"Well..." He crosses his arms over his chest. When he looks at the detectives they were both all ears. "My brother..." He looks at Sam and spills out the first name that comes out. "George and I were walking down the street; we had just finished having dinner at our friend's house when we came across this woman who was being attacked by two men. They were trying to take her bag, but she was putting up a fight. Of course, my brother and I ran to help her. We jumped the guys, kicked their asses to the kerb and they ran out. The woman was traumatised, could barely speak or walk.
"So, I took her to next police station, so she could file a report and have people take care of her. My brother stayed behind. I'm guessing the guys came around, this time with more people and jumped my brother. He probably thought he'd be safe inside the building, but clearly not. I went back there after a while, saw the commotion. I could not find him, anywhere. Luckily, I bumped into a guy that said he was probably here."
"Does this guy have a name?" Bell asks.
"I didn't ask."
The Detectives exchanged looks.
"So you left your brother?" Detective Bright asks. His eyes were as blue as the sea. It was intimidating.
"I didn't leave him." Dean defends himself. "He was fine. I took the woman to safety."
"Why didn't your brother go with you?"
"That's because he wanted to stay."
"He wanted to stay behind knowing that two armed robbers, whom he had confronted earlier, might still be around?"
"He had no idea they were armed," Dean answers calmly.
"Yeah, he sure didn't," Bell says. Dean squints at him and immediately imagined himself punching that Detective right in the freaking eye." Did you get a good look at the robbers?"
"It was dark. The street lights were out, I could barely see the ground beneath my feet. So, no. I did not see the robbers."
"What about the woman?" Bell wonders. "It's a lot brighter at a police station, can you describe her?"
The hunter's patience was wearing thin.
"She was blonde, long hair, blue eyes. Medium height, skinny, wore a leather brown jacket. "
Dean describes the demon he was looking for. Perhaps, if the hunters could not find the bitch, the police could.
"Did she give you her name?" Bell asks.
"No."
Dean was sinking awfully fast. His story had more holes than a fishnet. Detective Bell looks straight into Dean's eyes.
"What about the police you talked to at the station? Can you give me his name, badge number?"
Dean shrugs.
"No. I didn't ask. I just dropped her there."
"you...you left her?"
"Yes, at the police station"
"Like someone might drop a package at a front door?" Bell asks once more. "Which police station was this?"
"Downtown. I don't know."
" Was it the 1st? 22nd? Which one?"
"I don't know, man. I wanted to come back to my brother and she was at a safe location. It was a done deal."
The Detectives share a look once more. The type of look Sam and Dean shared when they knew the story they were hearing, was crap.
"So, let me see if I got this straight..." Bell starts coming closer to Dean "You and your brother save a woman, from a robbery. However, you don't remember the robbers face, because it was dark. You, Aaron, took the woman to the next police station, leaving your brother, George, behind – without imagining the robbers could come back – and left the victim at the station.
"You don't talk to her, you don't get her name, and you don't see if she actually talks to a police officer. Hell, did you even stop the car at the station or just a few blocks away?" Bell let out a smirk "Now, here's another thing to add to this story of yours: there are no reports of a woman being robbed anywhere near the place you were last night. Some people did see a blonde woman running away from the scene your brother fell from. Care to comment?"
Dean does not answer. He knows his story ain't perfect.
"And, let's not forget, this still does not cover the bullets or the fact that your brother fell from a building onto a car." Bright states. He looks over at Sam. "Your brother is a big man, Aaron. It would take, at least, four men to beat him up like this, drag him and drop him."
Dean wets his lips and just stares at the Detectives. What else could he say? What another lie could he take out of his hat?
"Detectives." All three men looked at the door where Martha stood. "I think you have enough information, my patient needs his rest."
"We are not talking to the patient."Bell states "We are talking to his brother."
"That can wait till proper hours."
"You called us, to get the facts straight."
"The Administration called you, I honestly do not give a damn about all this." Martha opens the door and points to the hall. "If you don't mind, gentlemen."
Detective Bell and Bright both give in and walk out of the room, leaving the promise they would return later that afternoon. As soon as the door closes behind the two men, Dean lets out a massive sigh and covers his face.
Martha comes closer to Sam's bed checking his vital signs and improvement. "That was a curious story." She says to Dean.
"Well, it is the truth." He answers leaning his back on the chair.
"They did not buy it."
"That's their problem," Dean answers defensively. They could not stay in this town, not another second. As soon as Sam opens his eyes they will be gone, so fast people would wonder if they were even there in the first place.
"He's doing well. He'll be fine." Martha answers as she's checking Sam's pulse. Suddenly, she turns her attention to Dean. She stands before him, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to the oldest brother. "It's a nice way to fill all those forms."
Dean picks up the paper, opening it to see the form all doddle up "Listen, we don't have half of this information, okay?"
"I don't care about the information. I care about the thing you drew in the bottom left."
Dean looks back the paper and he quickly recognises his doodle. He had completely forgotten he had drawn that. The symbol itself was a spiral surrounded by symbols he did not recognize and crossed by two thick lines diagonally. It could be just a stupid doodle, but it wasn't. Dean knew that after all...it was on his father's journal. It was a from a case he never to a chance to solve.
"It's nothing."
"Is it, though?"
Dean raises his eyes to Martha. How can she possibly know that this symbol was something? "What do you think it is?"
Martha takes the paper from his hands and puts it in her pocket.
"As you said, it's nothing."
Martha walks out of the room and just when Dean thought he might have some peace, Martha's head pops back. "I'd work on that story if I were you. They might be idiots, but they are not dumb."
When Sam opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the incoming light of the sunset bursting through the window, in an explosion of orange and yellow. His mouth is dry, he's thirsty and pain shot through his body from several points. His eyes travel across the ceiling and he suddenly feels sick. He hates hospitals, the more he went in the more the hated.
He hears the distinctive sound of a cell phone ring coming around the corner.
"Yeah?" The British accent makes him turn his head towards the door. The voice is coming closer. "Hi, mum."
A doctor walks into the room, closing the door behind her, but not looking at Sam. She's the first living breathing human thing he sees after a long night. Her black hair falls down on her shoulders like black cetin and her skin reminded Sam of the most delicious chocolate.
"When was that?" She asks still on her phone, with her face away from Sam. "Mum, I do not come between dad and his girlfriends and neither should you!" The doctor hadn't noticed yet that Sam is wide awake and watching her every move without blinking. "Why? It's his life, his money and like so, it should be his business. Mum, I'm not going to talk to him! Why, me? Ask Leo!" She waits for an answer, but then she snaps. "Oh my God, sometimes I think you still fancy the man!" The doctor pushes the phone away from her ear as her mother on the other side yells a response. "Alright. Alright. I have to go. I'm at work, mother. Goodbye. I love you too."
After hanging up the phone, the doctor lets out-out a gigantic sigh.
"Family drama?"
The doctor spins around fast to find Sam staring right back at her.
"You heard that?"
"It was hard not to."
"Well, I'm glad to see you up and about." The doctor greets, putting her phone away and coming closer to Sam. " I'm Dr Martha Jones. I was only who operated on you. How are you feeling?"
"Sore, tired, thirsty..."
"Yeah, you were pretty beat up when you got here." Martha shows a kind smile. "Do you mind if I check you?"
"Not at all."
With the doctors help, Sam sits straight and stood still, whilst Doctor Jones examined him. The doctor stands close to him, he could already smell her perfume. Without her noticing, Sam measures her with his eyes; she has an hourglass shape that most women would die for. Every inch seemed just right size; every bit of flesh was a temptation and that perfume...oh! The perfume was driving Sam insane. She's so close, her warm fingers touching the skin on his forehead, his neck, his shoulder very carefully.
Even frowning she's beautiful.
Martha takes a firm grip on his arm and Sam feels her fingers touch his muscles and bones, making sure everything was in place. Then his ribs, counting them and making sure they were healing well.
"I am concerned about this bite, though," Martha says as she checks the teeth marks. "It looks better."
"That's good."
"You seem fine." She says when finished. Her brown eyes met Sam's green. "How you managed not to break anything, it's still surprising. You'll be up on your feet in no time..."
"Good," Sam answers without holding a smile. "That sounds good."
"I will just up a little the dose of your sedative" Martha goes and writes more information on Sam's clipboard that hung by the side of the bed. "Any questions?"
"Err...yeah...my brother?"
"He was here," Martha says, putting the clipboard back in place and pocketing her pen. "Left just before you woke up. He was worried."
"He always is." Sam frowns, trying to use his memory to know what to say "How...How did he look?"
"You want to ask how beat up he was?"
"I guess."
"Rather severely." Martha answers.
"I feel sorry for what I did. I wasn't myself."
"If it makes you feel better, he refused to be taken care of by me, but managed to seduce a pretty young thing to give him some pills and clean his wounds." Martha shows a smile. "At least, I know he was taken care of."
"Thank you."
Both of them remain in silence, without saying much to each other. Martha then puts a hand in her pocket and takes a sheet of paper.
"I asked your brother to fill your form. He wouldn't. Instead, he doodled all over it." Martha comes closer and stands next to Sam, handing him the sheet of paper. "Do you know anything about the doodle done on the lower part of the page?"
Sam takes the paper and looks at the part Martha pointed out. He looks at it for a while and easily recognises the symbol his father had drawn on his journal all those years ago. He looks at Martha with his head fizzling with questions.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious"
"What do you know about it?"
"I asked first."
Sam takes another look at the paper, before giving it back to Martha. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course," Martha answers, taking the paperback. "Didn't expect you to know. It's just a drawing, yes?"
Both of them remain silent looking at one another, not knowing exactly what to do or say. How could anyone be asking about a symbol that John Winchester drew years before? Neither Sam or Dean knew about the subject, they were just as curious as anyone, but knowing the type of things their father wrote about in the journal they knew it wasn't good. The curious part here was the fact that in years, Martha Jones was the first person to ask about such a topic.
A knock on the door broke the silence and the detective Bell and Bright both came into the room.
"We're back, as we promised." Detective Bell announces walking in the room.
"Detectives," Martha said, trying to hide her discontent but not really trying.
"Glad to see you awake, George. Had everybody worried." Detective Bright asks, showing little emotion on it.
It takes Sam a split second to recognise he was the one they were talking too. "Yeah..." He answers, shooting a quick glance at Martha. "Can I help you?"
"George, we would like to hear your side of the story and find out what happened." Bright asks. "We talked to your brother, Aaron, but his story was just..."
"Crap." Bell chimes in. "We want to hear your side."
Sam swallows hard; he has no idea what to say. On a normal basis, he and Dean would come up with similar stories, but right now...he has nothing. Had Dean used an old story or did he make up the new one?
"Err..." Sam has no idea why, but his eyes travel back to Martha. "Well, I..."
Martha quickly steps in after reading the panic in Sam's eyes. "My patient is still in need of rest."
"Dr Jones I know the might be a nuisance for your patient, but we need information. " Bell insists "The were guns involved, a man fell on top of a car, we have witnesses who tell us a very different story from what your brother told us yesterday. We're just doing our job."
"I know," Martha says. "Just not right now. He just woke from a long surgery and needs every second to rest."
"I understand that," the detective continues. "However, we do need something. Or we're going to have to charge both brothers with assault"
"Assault?" Sam asks so loud and so fast, he feels a pain on his side. "We were the ones attacked"
"That's not what the blonde woman says." Sam looks at the detective completely stunned.
"You got her?"
"Oh yeah. We found her. She took a beating apparently, all done by both of you. Also, she says she fired against you, but we're yet to find the gun."
"Did she tell you she bit me?" Sam lifts his right arm, showing the bandages surrounding it.
"You beat the shit of a woman because she bit you?" Bell asks
"Alright, alright." Martha steps in. "We're done here. If you don't mind, gentlemen..."
Detective Bell shows a cocky smirk.
"We can get a warrant."
"You can come back with whatever you want, but you won't bother my patient when he's still recovering. Now, please." Martha points them to the door. Without a word, both Detectives walks out of the room leaving Sam and Martha. As soon as they were alone, Sam says:
"No need. I'm not of fan of the police. They are nuisances at times." Martha walks towards the door.
"Who are you?" Sam asks. Martha turns to face him with a confused look.
"I'm your doctor."
"Really? You don't seem like it."
"You're right," Martha answers simply. "Get some rest."
