"No. Don't." Dean said, his jaw trembling. "Ellis, please don't."

"Oh sweetheart." She pet his short mussed hair, could still feel the heat radiating off of him like a toaster oven. "We have to keep it clean. You're infected, baby."

His brows rose into something vulnerable. "I want m'dad."

"I know." Ellis soothed. "I know. Just a little bit, okay?" She washed the wound with iodine and he flinched with a ripple of his abdominal muscles. "Just a little."

He groaned miserably, looking as if all of his sense of macho anything had been burned away to nothing in the wake of his illness.

"Easy, sweetheart."

Dean closed his eyes and cried out instinctively as the pain rose up again. "Sam!"

Sam rushed in from the other room, looking harried, his shirt askew, his belt half-buckled. "What?"

"He's in pain." Ellis said, flipping the spout down on the lid of the iodine. "He wants you."

"Dean." Sam took one of Dean's hands and enfolded it in his own. "Hey buddy, I'm here. I'm here. I was just using the bathroom. You scared the hell out of me, I almost peed on the wall."

Dean's chest was heaving. "S'mmy."

"I'm right here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere. Not at all."

"Don't." It was a petulant whine, almost a sick child's. He rolled sideways and his plain cotton t-shirt was soaked through the back with sweat.

"Hey, we've gotta let her clean it, buddy." Sam pulled him over onto his back.

"N...no." Dean thrashed weakly.

Ellis closed her eyes. "Poor baby."

Sam's eyes wandered to the soaked bed sheets, once lavender, now stained and wrinkled and wet. "Ugh. We've like killed your mattress... I'm really sorry, Ellis."

"Don't worry about that." Ellis put her hands on Dean's hip, lifted up his shirt up once more and pulled his loose lounge pants down a fraction. "Good boy." She inspected as close as she could. He was very protective of his side, trying to squirm away before she'd done anything.

"Okay." Ellis backed away for a minute looking worn.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

She took an deep breath. "I just need a break for a minute. I'm so tired of hurting him."

"Yeah, me too." Sam toyed with the loose sheet. "I don't think our trip in the closet did him any good. I...I heard what Bobby said about debriding the wound. I haven't had any time to look up the technique but..." Sam left the rest unspoken.

Ellis nodded and bit back a sob.

Sam's eyebrows knitted together worriedly.

"I'm sorry." She choked. "Woman. Kinda my thing to bawl when under duress." She wiped her eyes.

"You know." Sam gave his loud little exhale through his nose. "I want to cry too. I get it."

"You can if you want. I don't care."

There was a long pause as if Sam was searching for the words. "I...I don't know, it's like I want to but I can't sometimes. It's weird... I think maybe it's a guy thing?"

"Emotional constipation."

He smiled a little, bright and beautiful and so perfectly Sam. Knees in the mud, limp, lolling into Dean's embrace.

Ellis felt her heart pound and stutter and the tears started again.

Sam misinterpreted it. "I'm sorry." He looked lost. "I'm sorry I brought him here."

"What?" Her lip trembled, she wiped her nose with her sleeve.

"We really just bring destruction wherever we go. It's like a freaking Winchester curse or something."

It is. She thought to herself. Then aloud... "I'm glad you came."

He looked guilty. "And now you have the FBI in your house. In your life."

"Oh don't worry about that." She replied, dismissively. "Worry that I'm probably going to be fired because I've used all my sick days from work."

Dean's groaning whimper interrupted their conversation. She knelt down. "I got him. Go research how to debride this so we can end this fucking infection. Afterward I have to rob my neighbor's house. Typical day in the life of Ellis Parnecki."

Sam laughed, spared his brother a worried glance as Ellis put her hand on his head again, stroking gently.

"You think they left someone to stake out the house?" Sam asked.

She shrugged. "I would." Then Ellis turned her attention back to Dean, her long hair falling onto his face before she brushed it away. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay, angel."

"Not an angel." Dean muttered.

She kissed his forehead maternally. "Sure you are."

Dean's body tightened again and he sucked in a hissing breath between his teeth. "No such thing as angels." He whispered.

"Sweetie. I'm gonna dig up the last of the whiskey. Let's try to take the edge off this while we wait." She looked at his sweet, boyish face, almost beautiful in it's symmetry and thought that she never saw anything look closer to an angel in her life.

Bobby Singer swung the old chevy van into the driveway of the little white house. It rattled and coughed, announced his arrival with a plume of black smoke that he figured he'd have to fix later. The fuzzy dice that Rufus had left on the mirror swung into his vision and he swore and ripped them down. This thing was a giant gas hog, but just about the most comfortable thing he owned, shag carpet on the ceiling and all. He scowled at the dark unmarked vehicle up the street from him and sighed. Definitely a government vehicle. They knew something or were watching for something. Surveillance. He figured at least he looked like a plumber or repair man. If he came out of her house a few hours later with some old pipe and riffraff he could make it look like he was on a call for a plumbing company. His vehicle fit the bill at least. He killed the engine and grabbed the tackle box of medical supplies, walked up the stairs and knocked.

An attractive middle aged woman answered the door. Her straight blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. He nudged past her without introduction and closed the door. "You got a suit outside watchin."

She stared at him. "Bobby?"

"Yeah. You must be Ellis." He pulled up his sleeves, and dumped the supplies on the floor. "I'm gonna pretend I'm looking at your sink. Just play along."

He walked into the kitchen, ducked under the sink and made a show of waiting there until his back hurt, then got up and nodded. "Show me where he is."

Ellis stood a bit taken aback. "I thought you were in South Dakota."

"I was, two days ago. Started heading this way the minute Sam called me saying his brother'd been shot. I figured you idjits weren't gonna do it right. The minute you said he's got an unresolved infection, I knew I had to get up here, so I sped the rest of the way. You had some law company a bit back?"

"Yeah. Sam and Dean hid and some Agents did a quick search. I think we're in over our heads."

Bobby nodded, scratched his unkempt beard. "I tell you what, that boy goes septic you're gonna be dealing with something so far over your heads you might as well shoot him yourself."

Ellis winced. "You don't mince words, I see."

"What's the point? I figure say what you mean or don't say nothing. Where is he?"

Bobby sucked in a breath at the sight of Dean's face, simultaneously flushed and pale. "Balls."

Sam was standing on the other side of the bed, fiddling with a sheet. He looked up, bis boyish face a study of open surprise and relief. "Bobby."

Bobby nodded. "Good to see you, Sam."

He sat down next to Dean's bedside on a little antique chair and bent over, his tone kind. "Hey, son. Open your eyes for me."

Dean's lids fluttered and came open at half-mast. "B...Bobby?"

"Yeah. How you feeling?" He put his hand on Dean's forehead and swore. "You're hotter 'n hell, kid."

"I'm cold." Dean mumbled.

"You in pain?"

He didn't respond for a second, drifting out. Bobby felt a stab of concern. He seemed worse than he'd anticipated.

"Dean?"

"Hmmm?"

"You in pain, son?"

"Y..uh."

Bobby started feeling the glands under the young man's neck. He pulled down the sheets and pulled up the shirt to look at the red angry wound. "BALLS! You two numbnuts haven't debrided it yet have you?"

"I was researching the method and then I got kinda waylaid by the FBI." Sam said.

"Get all the crap out of her living room, Sam. Mind they don't see you. I got a big med kit up there. We're doing some emergency surgery right now. Where's the bathroom to wash up? We all need clean hands."

Bobby touched Dean's stomach and the effect was electric. Dean flinched away with a startled cry. "Hey. Hey easy, boy. Jus' me."

Dean rolled sideways to try to guard his belly and Ellis and Bobby pushed him back over.

Bobby palpated his abdomen a little while Ellis stood at Dean's head and soothed him.

Dean cried out and thrashed.

"He's been very overprotective of the spot lately. We've been flushing it." Ellis explained.

"Flushing it ain't gonna be good enough if there's some foreign debris that ain't being flushed out. Could have a bullet fragment although sometimes they sterilize themselves right in the barrel. It's probably the cloth from the fabric that got pushed in there or maybe some debris from his own hands if he touched it after."

Bobby took off his baseball cap and wiped his brow, steeling himself for what lay ahead.

"We're gonna really clean it now, Ellis. You got a strong stomach?"

"No." She said without hesitation. "I freak out at those ASPCA commercials. And when I get a papercut."

"Well. Hang around with these idjits, you best get one. I'm gonna need you and Sam to assist me. We're probably gonna need to tie him down. I need one of you to flush the wound while I'm working." He dropped his voice so that Dean wouldn't overhear. "I have some Vicodin in the trunk and a lot of whiskey. We can get him as sloshed as we dare but it's still gonna hurt like a bitch."

"Of course it is." She said disgustedly. "Of fucking course. Because that's all this has been for days. One big fucking Dean torture fest. Goddamn it."

He chose to ignore the tirade. "We're gonna need antibiotics. There's no way around that. I brought what I had on hand but it ain't much." Bobby's blue eyes slid to Dean and for a fraction he softened, the affection shining through his expression. "Poor kid. He looks miserable. He's...he's a good boy. Always has been. Gotta smart mouth and an attitude problem but he's gotta good heart."

"I know." She said. "Kinda like Daddy."

"Better man than Daddy." Bobby replied immediately.

She blinked, shocked. He could read how affronted she was on her face. That answered all he needed to know about their working relationship. Pretty woman, blonde haired, kinda like Mary.

"My neighbor had Cipro for an ear infection that I know she abandoned for something else. I doubt she threw them out. We can swipe them."

Bobby started sliding the nightstand around, his mind back on the task at hand. "He been eating, drinkin, pissing?"

Ellis paused. "He hasn't touched a lick of food in days except some broth I've gotten Sam to spoon him. He's drinking very little. I'm mainly keeping him hydrated with IV fluids under the skin."

"Pissin?" Bobby pushed brazenly. "His kidneys still online?"

"I think a little. But I haven't been taking him to the bathroom. That's in Sam's court."

Bobby's square-jawed face tightened with a flash of concern across his features. He took off his dinged up baseball cap and tossed it on the side of the table, ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "Balls. This poor kid."

His poor boys. His heart hurt for them, really. So much on their plates so young. "These are good boys and this past year fate's just been throwing them against the wall again and again."

Ellis looked at him and for a moment she seemed very serious and very wise and not at all the ditz he had her pegged for. "It's not gonna stop anytime soon." She left the room and Bobby stared after her wondering what the fuck that was all about.

Thanks for the reviews guys! Keep them coming, pretty, pretty please... and I'll keep feeding you the angst.