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Chapter Ten

Croatoan Part II

I watched Sam take Beverly's shoulders and help her into the clinic through narrowed eyes. The entire ride from Beverly's house to the clinic of which we were now parked in front of, Sam had ignored me. Somehow she had changed from a Tanner to Beverly but I still hadn't wanted to know her name, but she still had sought out to make introductions. The less I knew about her, the more I could hate her. It was petty, I knew but damn her and damn Sam for treating her nicely. Whereas he had treated me like some cantankerous leper.

I opened my door and got out of the back seat paying no heed to Dean and what was occupying him in the trunk. I grabbed my bag; which I needed more than ever thanks to all the little shards of glass embedded somewhere on my person and headed inside; waiting behind to hold open the door for Dean.

My eyes bulged slightly when I saw Dean shoulder what was obviously a body wrapped in white linen. He nodded his thanks and walked into the foyer of the clinic. I followed him and forced myself not to try and decipher who was wrapped in there, did I even care to know? If Dean had killed someone or something, I stood behind his decision. He didn't waver but nor did he shoot just anything. He was justified or as justified as one could be with taking someone's life.

I shook my head from the sudden philosophical turn and followed behind Dean, paying no attention to the doctor who rushed him with questions about who was wrapped in linen so obviously dead. I walked past them both and walked around the clinic, it was surprisingly large for a small town like this to have.

The last few small towns I had passed through had what seemed like a closet for the doctors to work in, not that I minded. They deserved a doghouse for all the poking and prodding they did. Bastards. I found what I was looking for and shoved open the door. I glanced around the private bathroom and died.

I inhaled, coming back to the beautiful sight of a private bathroom, beautiful and completely furnished with a huge medicine cabinet. I walked in and shut the door behind me, smiling darkly when I slid the lock into place. See if anyone could bother me now.

Time passed and I soon forgot about Sam treating me like cow dung or Dean and his indifference. All I focused on was trying to shake all the glass from my clothes, body and hair so I could dress myself and not stand around naked like a fool.

It had taken me little more than an hour to finally get all the glass out from under my skin and damned if it didn't hurt. I made a mental note to never run around in a forest covered in glass ever again. Dumb and painful. Dumb. And. Painful.

"Bella, open up!" I heard Dean's faint voice; the door didn't even shake under his pounding ministrations.

I glanced at the door appreciating once again the thick metal and realized I was still naked and he still knew how to pick locks. I glanced around furtively and shoved myself into a clean, non-glassed pair of underwear and bra, reaching for a shirt when the door swung wide open.

I was too embarrassed to even think about anyone else in the clinic that might catch me in such an unawares state; I was too busy glaring daggers at Dean.

"Get. Out." I bit out furiously. How dare he be indifferent then have the audacity to pull a stunt like that?

Dean glanced around the room, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, "You sure you're okay? ...You look like a scratching post for cats."

I paid him no heed as I bent and ruffled through my bag to find a pair of pants. I'd even take pajamas than walk around in purple underwear. Though it was more mauve. Dear god, I'm standing almost naked in front of my brother, glass littering the floor and trying to decipher what color my underwear was. Thank you Mom, for your neurosis.

"Did you get all the glass out from your feet?" Dean asked quietly, bending to pick up all my clothes and my bag, placing it on the counter. I watched him wrap my other clothing around a plastic bag before placing it in my duffel. He was trying to be kind! Here I was holding desperately onto my anger and hurt and here he was helping me clean up!

I caught a pair of clean socks he threw my way and began ignoring him again. "When did you get that?"

I glanced up and caught Dean pointing to four-inch scar on my left rib. Ah, the infamous rusty knife scar. That one nearly broke me, with all the cleaning, blood pouring, cursing and the itchy days it took to heal not being able to wear a bra. I had gotten it a few months after I had left them. I still got ghost pains from it.

I shrugged on a shirt not bothering to see if it was dirty or not, just as long as it didn't have glass, I wasn't choosy. "You should have been more careful." Dean muttered. I couldn't decipher what was laced in his words; hurt, anger, guilt, sadness?

Shaking my head from my own emotions, I bit my lip. There were so many things I would have loved to have thrown in his face, 'I never got a chance to hunt by my own so the moment I was alone, and I was careless!' 'Why do you care?'

But in that moment, I was tired. Tired of being anything but what I was, of molding myself into what I could never be. I wasn't them, I was too strong to be brokenly free-willed like my mother but too weak to be anything like a Winchester.

"Bella, I—"

I shook my head; I didn't want to hear it. As far as I could see, apologies just didn't cut it anymore. He'd always try to protect me and it would always hurt me because I knew I was capable of protecting myself.

Dean must have read something from my noncommittal shrugs because the next thing I knew, he straightened up and in a voice that only meant business, he told me, "There's something wrong in this town. Do you remember that zombie movie we watched last Sunday?"

My eyes bulged and I nodded biting harder on my lip, gosh, did I ever! It was one of the greatest, scariest zombie movies ever! But that couldn't mean—could it?

"No, not zombies but something like it. Though you don't know if they're about to turn or not." Dean instructed and then I died.

He was letting me in on something! Finally wasn't trying to protect me, it wasn't a lot; it wouldn't make up for the sinking hole I was already drowning in but it did give me a flicker of hope. "Thank you."

He nodded, "I'm heading out—"

Despite my reticence, I caught myself caring, caring a lot where Dean was going, "Where? Why?" I asked curiously. Too curiously and I knew from the smug smile that Dean flashed me, he was onto me too; he knew that though I was still mad, I wasn't blaming him. He was just caught in Sam's antics too.

"I'm going to the next town, forty miles from here; Sidewinder. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I nodded feeling even lower; he was leaving me with Sam. It hit me as a tad ironic then. Sam had always been very near and dear to me, he was the first person to open arms to me and he always stood up for me. Always. Dean was too much like our father that I always did reserve a part of me away from him. I don't know if it was lack of trust or fear but I realized at that moment, they had turned the tables on me.

"Pedal to the metal, dude." I smirked and shared a high five with Dean before he left.

I tried hiding in the bathroom, tried desperately to find intricacies in the plain white sterile surroundings of the room. It was cowardly, I knew that but I didn't want to face Sam yet.

Thankfully the decision was made for me when the bathroom door opened and the doctor from earlier walked in slowly.

"I brought you some water." She said quietly, hand held up to calm me.

I smiled, though I was wounded and hurt by my stupid brother; I sure as heck wasn't a cornered animal. "I don't bite." I joked.

Her face fell and I realized my mistake. Dean had said they were like zombies…oops. "Sorry, that's not what I meant, I meant—"

She shrugged trying to place the smile back on her face, though this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's alright, under different circumstances, I'd have laughed but…"

I nodded and took the water she offered, "Thank you." I gulped down half before feeling curious about what was going on beyond these four walls. I asked her careful questions, not wanting to offend her anymore but twisting them around so I could get the gist of everything that I missed; from what had taken place at the Tanner house to when Dean had left.

"So you're saying that…there's this virus that can be passed from blood? That makes them…"

"Like zombies." She shrugged and we shared a quiet smile. I had told her my analogy and she had actually laughed! Zombies…bringing people together and making dire things seem funny.

My mind raced from Duane Tanner, Beverly, the entire dead town and to how Sam had somehow found out and why we were here. In all honesty, what could we do? The town was already done for; we were just endangering ourselves. But how did Sam find out? And why was he so perturbed by this one thing so suddenly?

I thanked the doctor and grabbed my duffel, pretending I wasn't the one whom was to blame for all the glass on the floor. They way I saw it, did it really matter? This town had become obsolete and a few pieces of glass wouldn't matter.

Glancing around me, I took in the details of the empty waiting room. It still bothered me, the doctor; who specifically told me it was okay to call her Dr. Lee, had told me that sulphur was found in the blood stream. Sulphur was the disease, not some hungry amoeba that turned people to ravenous unthinking monstrosities but rather sulphur that turned them to…demons? I shook my head, nah. It sounded plausible but probably was ridiculous. Demon zombies! Ha!

I must have fallen asleep on the questionably comfortable chair in the waiting room, when I heard someone pounding on the locked door of the clinic.

"Mirabella! Open up!"

I jumped to attention and almost stumbled to the front door to unlock it, smiling guiltily at Dean who rolled his eyes, "Falling asleep on the job?"

I grinned chagrined at him, "I should apply to be a security guard."

He snorted and let the man beside him enter first; I moved out of the way letting the man walk by. If I thought my Dad had looked ferocious when he frowned, this man made my dad look like a kitty. Though I knew my Dad could take this guy without blinking.

I glanced questioningly up at Dean, whom shrugged at me in reply. His eyes flickered behind me and I knew Sam had just come out to see what the commotion was. Hiding from him? Who, me?

"Did you guys get to the…phone?" I heard Sam's voice directly behind me and I bit my lip hard. I knew I'd have to get over it eventually but hey, out in the middle of nowhere, if I wanted to be petty, then I'd dammed well be petty. I didn't focus on the fact that I wanted to make him hurt also, to give revenge when I so desperately needed avenging. It was even lower than petty, something dark and twisted that I'd rather not focus on.

I inched away from him, out to the sidelines of where we all were standing and took a seat on one of the chairs.

"Roadblock." Dean answered to Sam. "I'm going to have a word, Doc's inside." Dean quietly murmured to the man beside him.

We all waited until he had left the room before visibly relaxing, "What's going on out there Dean?" Sam asked.

I stared at Dean's shoes alternating the numbingly pleasant view with my own shoes. It had taken all my willpower not to glance at Sam, I wanted to see him. I missed his face, his eyes, I missed him. But he deserved a swift punch and to be shunned.

"Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean…Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, you know?" I heard Dean move and I felt him sink into the seat next to me, wrapping an arm around me.

I heard Sam clear his voice before continuing, "Doc thinks it's a virus."

I tensed despite myself and I knew Dean noticed, "What do you both think?"

"I think she's right." Sam answered.

"And you Bella?" Dean asked quietly.

If Dean wasn't picking fights with me, he was always trying to console me by placing me into awkward situations. Someday I'd tell him what I thought of that. "It doesn't matter what I think." I quietly answered.

"Bella—" I heard Sam warily say.

I stood up, enough was enough; let the punching commence! "Stop!" I shouted holding both hands up to ward off any interruptions. "I've had it with you trying to protect me, trying to handle me away from what's really going on. People die Sam! I know that! I know the blood that's been spilled to keep the balance and I know how to protect myself!" I yelled furiously. "How can I make you understand? Dad's been trying to do that for years and you left to go to college because you hated it!"

"Dad's dead!" Sam snapped.

"Both of you—" Dean snapped louder.

But I didn't care anymore. After all these years, little incidents and moments that are trying to one's patience and control…well they add up. And for some reason they decided here and now to manifest into rage and turn to blame Sam. "Are you sure about that Sam? Because you're turning out to be a spitting image of the man!" I shouted and stalked off. I didn't let the fact that I had nowhere to go hinder me either. Sometimes for such an exit like that, it takes some spontaneity. And I doubt I'd ever blow up at them like that again. Not when I'd be grounded for years to come by Dean, most likely.

"They've got one! In here!" I heard Mark shout from the hall, standing outside of what was probably the utility room.

"Who?" I asked stepping closer to him so I could try and peer through the small window of the door.

"The wife, she's infected." Sam answered from behind me.

"We're got to take care of this, we can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get." Mark answered back.

I heard Dean walk determinedly to the lab, Mark and Sam having joined them. They were obviously discussing what to do with Mrs. Tanner and for some reason; I knew I had no say in the decision. It would be up to them and for some reason; I wasn't envious of what would come next. I moved away from the locked utility room and began pacing around the clinic feeling trapped. Even an open field would feel confined at this moment. When we killed things, there were reasons; reasons we could see for our own eyes. But when I had glanced through the glass at Mrs. Tanner; dirty, crying inconsolable and crouched in the corner, I began to wonder. Dean had said that one moment they were like us and the next they were raving lunatics. I'd have to trust his word; it was all I really had left.