A/N: Sorry I didn't update for such a long time : ( I'll try to do it more often from now one, but I've had a lot of work to do, barely any time to sleep or do anything… Hope you like it!!

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Waking up from a small sound is more annoying than waking up from a large one. You think: You could sleep threw the loud crash but it's the constant taping that ends up waking up. The stupid tapping of a pencil on the notepad.

That's what wakes Dean from the rest that seemed to only last ten minutes. Tapping. Tapping from a pencil. Tapping from a pencil on cardboard, no a notepad. And when he opened his eyes so slightly that no one would notice, he sees the last thing he wanted to see.

Or at least the second to last.

"Hello Mr. Fuller, good to see you finally awake," he was muttering though, it was obvious he only wanted him awake so he could question him. He was a police officer, after all.

Dean blinked a few times at the strange man sitting in a chair too close to his bed. This guy shouldn't be a police officer; he looked more like the kind of guy you shoved in the locker in high school.

He was scrawny and had black, neatly combed hair and black-rimmed glasses. His left pocket had two pens hanging from the edge. Basically your good, old-fashion nerd.

"You're questioning me?" Dean asked while giving him a look that screamed 'Get out or I'll break you in half'. And he could, he could and probably would break this guy in half. But not now, not in a hospital.

"Yes, Mr. Fuller. The district police station sent me down to ask you a few questions as soon as you woke up, and since your awake; we'll begin…" he said in a voice that was trying to sound superior.

"And you just let yourself in?" Dean asked, wondering why the hospital would just let a police officer hover over a sick patient, waiting for them to wake up.

"No, the nurse let me in. She said, you said it was ok." The police officer answered, very sure of himself.

"Well I didn't."

The police man just nodded and then began, "So what can you tell me about your brother…" he flipped to the back of his notepad and looked at something before flipping it back into writing position, "Sam?"

Dean just glared at him, wanting so badly to punch him right in the face. Knock that expressionless look away, and kill that patronizing voice. "Let me see your badge." Dean said. He knew this man was a police officer, but he wanted to stall as much as he could.

He rolled his eyes and reach for the badge out of his back pocket. He flipped open the flap so Dean could see the name.

"Officer Ned… Brinckle?" Dean couldn't stop himself from smiling. This guys was the ultimate nerd, "Yeah well Officer Brinckle, I'm not really in the mood…"

"The mood?"

"Yeah… Right now I feel a bit tired, so why not take your little notepad and-"

Dean was about to make some kind of remark letting him know what Dean thought of him, but just as he was about to he noticed the second police officer standing outside the hospital room. A policewoman. The policewoman that had shot his brother.

"That's the bitch that shot my brother!" Dean spat out, his temper flaring. The officer had an expression of pure shock when he turned around and saw his partner standing outside.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me that's the-"

"Now listen to me buddy!" the police officer stood up and suddenly looked bigger, just from the anger and frustration radiating off of him, "That woman, my partner saved your life! When we found you, your brother had a knife in his hand and you on his lap. He was about to-"

"MY BROTHER…" Dean started out yelling, but when he realized he slowed down a little and started over, "My brother wasn't about to do anything, he was taking care of me, he was…"

"Your brother's the one who got you like that, your brother is the reason your in the hospital right now. Your brother is the reason two children, a man and a woman are dead! Do you understand?"

Dean said nothing, what was he going to say? No, it wasn't my brother it was a shape shifter. No, it was his brother being possessed by a demon? No wait he said Christo, never mind… He would just tell the officer that it was something that had to do with the supernatural, right? Sure, they'd just throw him into an institution, strap him in a straightjacket when he realized where he was. Then again, that may be the only place to keep him safe from himself.

"Now I have four families that want answers, they want to know why some guy came into town and killed their child, their spouse, their parent! And I intend to tell them every ounce of information I can get, now take this seriously and answer my questions!"

Dean stared at the man, amazed at how he had stood up to him. Well, he was the one bedridden.

"Give me a little bit of time…" Dean started, not really sure how to explain why he needed time.

"Why? So you can come up with your story!" the police officer yelled in his face. Dean looked away; the officer practically read his mind.

Dean's head quickly shot back up and he glared at the officer's blatant rudeness, "Fine! I don't know why my brother killed those people, it's nothing like him! Sammy would barely hurt a god damn fly, let alone kill a kid!"

"What about you? He hurt you." the police officer said, provoking him to tell more.

"Me? Sam would never hurt me, once I got mad at him and punched him. I told him to punch me back; he wouldn't even do it! He's not like that, I don't know why…" Dean didn't know what to say except try to convince them something was wrong with his brother when he did that, you know, without telling them about the supernatural.

"Did your brother have any medical history of mental illness?"

"What? No! Nothing! My brother was fine!"

"What happened the last time you saw him, not the attack, before that." the police officer asked looking down at his notepad.

Dean thought for a second and then said, "When I saw him last he said he was going out to a bar to get a drink. I didn't go because I was tired, he just said he needed a little time to himself. But he wasn't drunk!"

"I know… he didn't have any alcohol in his system… Why were you two in town, anyway?" the police officer didn't seem to be buying this story, the idea that Sam was a saint who never hurt anyone, especially after all the proof against him.

"We were just passing threw, we're… we were taking a road trip across the country…" when Dean had to say were, instead of are the officer could tell this was getting hard for Dean. Dean blinked back a few tears, they weren't taking a road trip anymore, not now that he was dead.

Dead. He still couldn't believe it.

Dean want to explain anything to this pathetic excuse for a police officer. All he wanted to do was kill that policewoman who kept peeking in every so often. He didn't care she was a woman. He didn't care she was just doing her job. He didn't care she saved his life, if anything that made him more angry with her. He wanted to get out of this town now and find a crossroads, find a spell, find anything to bring his brother back from the dead.

"We'll pick this up later…" the police officer said quietly gathering his materials. He had noticed the tears streaming down Dean's face before Dean even had.

Dean nodded slightly and stared down at the bed sheet. He didn't dare look that other policewoman in the eye when he felt her eyes burning a hole through him, from the other side of the window. He wasn't sure what he might do.

Dean now finally had a chance to think about his options. No annoying nurses poking their fake smiles threw the door. No intrusive police officers digging into all the information he had while he wasn't thinking clearly about what he said. No policewoman staring at him, with satisfaction that they had been the one to kill his brother glowing in their eyes. He was alone in a white walled hospital room. The last place he felt at home.

He couldn't stay there much longer, that much was obvious. He had to go before the police officers ran his and his brother's names in the computer. Probably finding out the Dean Fuller was a heavy man who lived in Texas and was an only child. He had to go before it was too late to do something about Sam, find a way to bring him back. That's all that mattered, getting Sam back.

He had his plan: He was going to get out of the hospital room. He was going to find Sam's body and take it with him. He was going to get in his car and drive… Oh yeah that was another thing… Get to the car. He was going to get the car and then get Sammy… He would drive to Bobby's or Missouri's or the first crossroads or the first Hoodoo priest he could find. He would get Sam back. Then him and Sam would go far away, and hopefully he would never remember what he did. They would just forget about it all and find a place to hide, where no one would ever find him. Both of them wanted for murder. Sammy would find a girl and get married, have kids, finish college. Have a normal life. That's all Dean wanted, just wanted Sam to have a normal life.

Dean stood up from that suffocating bed. From those suffocating sheets and finally found his way out of the bed that made it hard for him to think, to breath. Those damn white walls staring down at him making him dizzy and sicker. No wonder some people stay in hospitals forever.

His legs shook under him. They didn't support him at all but that was ok. Dean could push threw that if it meant he was even a little bit closer to Sam. He closed the blinds on the window that allowed anyone to look in and take his privacy, changed and looked around.

Than it hit him, how to get out. He was on the ground floor of the hospital, and the window was right there. He smiled to no one and then lifted those blinds. When the window opened he climbed out as quickly as he could. One step closer to what he wanted. When they came into town they timed the way from the hospital to the motel – 10 minutes in a car. If walked fast he might get there in 25 with these practically useless legs. But it didn't matter to him if his legs fell off on the way to the motel, he was getting there.