Over the course of almost a week, a routine had come about. Dean would sleep well into the afternoon, Calliope would wake him to change his dressings, and he would fall back asleep. He had thrown up on a few occasions after eating, but it didn't bother her a bit. She was lucky to get four hours of sleep at night, herself. But one night, he was unusually sick; his forehead was slick with sweat and hot to the touch. He was pale, moaning into the night; and when Calliope, exhausted and lethargic, looked over his wound her worst fear showed itself in the form of bright pink skin around the cut—infection.
At that point, she knew there was nothing more she could do for him on her own. He had warned her not to call for a doctor, but she knew of nothing else to do, he would surely die.
"Dean," she said, positive he could hear her, "I have to fetch for a doctor. You're too sick for me handle any longer."
He opened his eyes a bit to see her, and he nodded. He knew his fate as well as she if a professional did not take care of him.
"I'll be quick." she said, "I promise."
She turned to leave as Dean mumbled something to her. She looked back but his eyes were closed again and he said nothing more.
Calliope could hear the echo of her footsteps along street she ventured down. There was a chilly wind that crept along her arms and ruffled the shawl around her shoulders. She was close to the town's doctor, he was located just around the corner luckily and she only prayed he would make a house call so late into the night.
Her knuckles rapped against the wooden door just below the words "Nathaniel Frazier " in bold black letters. She waited a few minutes, worry filling her mind, and then the door opened before her and she was beckoned inside by an older man, slightly taller than herself with sideburns.
The room in which she entered was brought to life by the fire dancing in the fireplace. It illuminated a table littered with books and papers, bottles with varying colored liquids. Mr. Frazier shut the door behind them and stepped into her view.
"What can I do for you miss?" he asked, offering her a seat by the fire.
"I'm in of need your services sir. There is man who is badly wounded and has caught an infection. I'm afraid he might die if you don't help him." she said, sitting in the plush tan chair.
Dr. Frazier picked up a book from the table and thumbed through it.
"Is his wound fresh?" he asked
"No." she answered, "its several days old. I should have called for you sooner; it was extremely foolish of me to think I could take care of it on my own."
He looked up her and nodded and she felt her face burn with embarrassment.
"Well Miss…" he started,
"McKenna."
"Miss McKenna, let me gather my things and I shall take a look at the man. Hopefully he can be saved." he answered
"Thank you."
He left the room, leaving her alone with her own stupidity. She should have ignored Dean and come here sooner, it was beginning to dawn on her that she might have just sealed his fate. No. She couldn't think that way, Dr. Frazier had a good reputation around town, and he would not let a patient die of something as simple as infection. At least, she hoped it was simple.
When Mr. Frazier again entered the room, he told Calliope that he would follow her. Not ten minutes later, they entered her house through the little door leading into the kitchen and made their way to her bedroom.
He was out cold, beads of sweat still scattered on his forehead and bare chest. Her stomach ached just looking at him, and dread filled her.
"I will need more light." Dr. Frazier demanded, setting his bag down
She rushed to her desk and turned on an extra lamp, filling the room with light.
"And his name?" he asked, filing through his bag
She opened her mouth but quickly decided against it. She didn't exactly know his full name.
"Thomas. His name is Thomas." she finally said.
Mr. Frazier cleared his throat before talking.
"Since my assistant is not with me tonight, I will be asking you to help me with a few things, Miss McKenna." he said, motioning for her to come to him and she obeyed.
"We will need to lift him up." he said, his eyes inspecting Dean's wound, "Yes, you should have come to me sooner."
Her heart quickened.
"Can you help him?" she asked while they lifted the hunter into a sitting position.
"More than likely, yes, but it will take a while to fix him up and I cannot promise anything."
She nodded, praying he was right.
First, Dr. Frazier instructed Calliope to fetch a fresh bin of water for him followed by a bottle of alcohol. Once those items were laid before him, he began to work. He washed his hands in the basin and flushed Dean's wound with the alcohol, which caused him to wake; wiggling and howling in pain.
"Hold him still!" Dr. Frazier instructed, flustered.
Calliope took Dean's burning face in her hands instinctively and looked at him, his eyes bloodshot and wide.
"It's alright." she whispered
"What the hell is going on?" he grumbled, barely audible.
"I called for a doctor like I told you I was going to. He's going to help you."
He moaned and shut his eyes.
"That hurt like hell, you could have warned me." he croaked to Dr. Frazier, who paid him no heed.
Calliope realized she still held his head in her hands, and she let it lay softly against the pillow again.
"Now, Mr. Thomas, Miss McKenna, this wound is going to required stitching to help keep infection from reappearing and spreading. I can let you have a few drinks and let them into your system before I do this to ease the pain." Dr. Frazier said, turning his back to them
Dean looked to Calliope, sleepily, with one eyebrow cocked in inquiry.
"Mr. Thomas?" he mouthed
She shook her head and put a finger to her lips as Mr. Frazier turned back.
"Well?" he asked
"Hand that bottle over." Dean commanded
The bottle was handed to him; he tipped his head back and took a long swig, sighing afterwards.
"I need some fresh water." Dr. Frazier announced, and Calliope stood up.
"No Miss. You stay here with him for a few minutes, let the alcohol numb him up a bit, and I'll get the water." he said, grabbing the basin
"There's a sink in the kitchen." she told him as he left
She sat back down and watched as Dean consumed the rest of the bottle.
"You told him my name was Thomas so he wouldn't report me to the police?" Dean asked groggily
"Yes."
"Smart girl." he answered and she smiled shyly at the compliment
Dean set the bottle down and brought his hand his side as he struggled to take in a breath.
"You know," he started, "I don't see why you don't just turn me in yourself. There's a huge reward and you don't know me…." He took in another staggered breath.
"You can't even sit up on your own." she said quietly
"Well, I'm just saying, why are you risking it?" he asked
They looked at each other for a second, the light from the candles flickering and catching the beads of sweat along Dean's chest so that her eyes flickered towards his chest for a moment. Suddenly, Dr. Frazier entered and Calliope let the air out of her lungs that she had been keeping hostage there. She hadn't known how to answer his question. She knew he was a good man, but why was she risking her life for someone she knew nothing about?
"Now," Dr. Frazier said, "Are you ready?" He had the needle between his fingers, threaded and equipped.
Dean lifted his thumb up to Dr. Frazier's face and Calliope turned her head away, not sure if she could sit and watch. She heard Dean take in air between his clenched teeth and saw out of the corner of her eyes his fingers grasp the sheets around him. She could tell he was trying not to let the pain get to him, to be tough. He wanted to believe he could take the pain, but when she turned to look at him, she knew his emotions betrayed him.
He bent his head towards the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than the pain.
"Say something," he whispered, "Help me get my mind off this."
Calliope didn't know what he wanted her to say; even Dr. Frazier looked up in anticipation of her words.
"How old are you?" Dean asked, fingers clawing at his sides again.
"Twenty." she said shyly
"You seem unmistakably mature for so young."
She could feel herself blush as he said this.
"Thank you."
He tried to smile, but couldn't.
Then there was silence for what seemed like an eternity as Dr. Frazier sewed Dean up. He had closed his eyes now, and every once in a while he bit his lip from the stinging of the needle plunging into his skin.
"Finished." Doctor Frazier announced as he tied the string off and cut it.
Both Dean and Calliope looked to the now closed off wound, it was neat and precise and looked infinitely better.
"Miss McKenna, you are to clean this twice a day with alcohol, water and fresh bandages." Dr. Frazier said as he began to clean up.
"Alright." she answered quietly.
Doctor Frazier then reached for Dean's wrist to feel his pulse.
"Your pulse is normal, Mr. Thomas, you should recover quite nicely if Miss McKenna keeps things in shape."
Doctor Frazier began to collect his things all while avoiding the eyes of Calliope and Dean.
Calliope stood up as Dr. Frazier made his way towards the door.
"I will see you out." she said, still unsure as to what had just transpired.
"Thank you."
She followed him into the kitchen and then stopped him by a slightly touching his arm.
"I've forgotten to pay you." she said, embarrassed.
"Do not fret about it." he said
"Oh, I insist, he could have die-"
"Miss McKenna," he said, cutting her off. "I know who that man is in there; I saw his tattoo. I know his name is not Thomas, it's Dean Winchester, and he's wanted all over the and here as well. I see his wanted posters daily."
Calliope withdrew her hand from Dr. Frazier's arm and brought it to her mouth. She mentally kicked herself for being so stupid.
"Oh, please…"
"Do not worry Miss, I won't turn him in. When I became a doctor I swore to help and to take care of anyone and everyone, I shall not exclude hunters from that vow; for they are merely men who have lost their way, but men just the same. I just warn you that others in this town will not be as understanding, Miss. Now, as I said, you're to clean his wound twice a day."
Calliope was speechless for a moment.
'Thank you."
The doctor looked at her for a minute, and then smiled. The kitchen was filled with blue light from the moon and it cast a shadow across his face.
"You're very welcome Miss." he said, as he turned to leave.
A thought came to her suddenly, and she could not let him depart just yet.
"Sir, my father…he, he's very ill. He's very dependent on alcohol and, I know that it would be so much to ask but, tomorrow, could you perhaps stop by and take a look at him? I would be forever in your debt if you would." she said as he turned back to her.
"I will be here." he said, nodding as he opened the small, aged alley-way door.
