Disclaimer: I own nothing Supernatural. All characters belong to the CW and Kripke Scrap Metal and Entertainment Company.
A/N: Chapters will alternate between pre-season and early Season 1, after Phantom Traveller. My thanks as always to my beta's: Merisha and Scotia. This story is infinitely better because of them. All remaining errors are entirely my own. The story however belongs to Merisha and she'll fight you for it.
A/N to Adder574: You pegged this chapter two days before I posted it. You know what I mean.
ooooo December 2005 ooooo
About mid-morning Christmas Day Dean still hadn't returned. Sam was on his fourth or fifth cup of coffee when Caleb called, the ring almost making him fall off his chair. While he'd been eager to talk to Caleb a few days before, he was bitterly disappointed that the call wasn't from his brother. He went to their bedroom and closed the door, before getting Dad's journal out of his bag.
"I haven't seen your father, Sam, but you know I'd have called you if I knew anything. I promised Dean too."
"I know Caleb, it's just hard not to ask. I was actually hoping to have a chance to see what you remembered about the hunt in Florida two years ago with Dad."
"Dean's sitting right next to you, isn't he? Why don't you ask him?"
"Well, Dad didn't tell Dean very much about the hunts he went on with you. We're in Florida now and I was curious if you knew what Dad meant when he wrote 'u-pan'? We don't have any idea."
"U-pan? He always was a close mouthed bastard. Nothing much to tell, kid. We hunted a copper cat in Cat Island Swamp. Can you believe it – Cat Island. And Dean was so sure he'd find a Black Dog on Dog Island, god, he loves stuff like that. And those motels he finds – I almost got impaled in one of those rooms and Dean and your father laughed so hard I thought they would both have aneurisms. Funny it turned out that John and I were the ones who got to play the name game. I was real sorry about what had happened to Dean 'cause of that hunt though. He was still in rough shape when I saw him next and that was weeks later."
Sam was surfing the internet, googling copper cat, when he found the reference. "Because of what? And a 'u-pan' is an … underwater panther? What the hell is that?"
"Yeah, one of them killed a student on a nature trip in the swamp. Not too sure what they are, local lore is that they're almost gods or monsters or both. They're usually reclusive, heck, we thought they were extinct truthfully after all the research we did, but then we thought Skunk Apes were vegetarians until those two Dean found took turns ripping him up."
"Ripped him up?"
"Well, yeah, in the cave in Ocala. Sam, why aren't you asking Dean this?"
A cave? "Dean won't really tell me much – just says its ancient history, but we're here now and he drove off last night and… look I'm not trying to get you to break a confidence, I'm just trying to find out what happened. Dean's been on edge since we got here."
"I don't want to tell tales out of school. There must be a reason Dean didn't tell you but I can't see how this would hurt you or them for your knowing now. Your Dad and I checked a couple of places while Dean was in Ocala, and were planning to meet up with him in Cocoa Beach. Dean didn't mention he'd been sliced and diced, because he's as hard headed an ass as your father, so your Daddy and I didn't think anything about moving further out. John got an emergency message of some kind and found Dean about dead out by Cape Canaveral. Turns out there must have been two of cats because one of them got a hold of Dean. All we could figure is that it tracked me and your Dad to the motel in Cocoa Beach and attacked Dean when he came out of our room. You know, kind of a wrong time wrong place thing." He took a breath. "That's when John got the details on the apes too."
"So Dean was attacked by Apes in Ocala and then an underwater panther in Cocoa Beach? And he was by himself? And how come there's two of everything here?" No wonder he thinks Florida is out to get him.
"Don't forget the chupacabra. Not sure it helps, but there were plenty more than two of those. Your Dad was ready to set the whole state on fire, I'm telling you. As soon as he knew what attacked Dean, he went back to Cat Island but couldn't find the sucker. Probably a good thing in a way, because he was by himself. And damn you wouldn't believe what you have to do to kill one of those things, Sam. Anyway, right after the swamp, John and I headed for Georgia. I saw Dean again about four weeks later." Sam heard some noise in the background. Caleb said, "Sam, look, have to go. You'll be the first person I call if I see hide or hair of John."
After Caleb disconnected, Sam tried to make some connections between what he remembered of the Florida trip and what Caleb was saying. So far they weren't matching up. He'd had plenty of time to try to remember the phone calls he'd gotten from Dean during that trip. He remembered Dean calling shitfaced drunk when he'd set up the conference call. He still remembered how angry he'd been about that. And when he got him at the beach, he had been drunk again, talking about blondes and bikinis, hadn't he? That had to be the emergency Caleb mentioned. So he wasn't drunk, he'd been attacked. Twice. No wonder Dean had been pissed at him in Valdosta but how the hell was he supposed to know Dean had been hurt? Dean said he was drunk, didn't he?
He did his best not to worry about his brother for most of Christmas Day, and gladly upheld the Winchester honor in the kite challenge. Funny, he never knew how competitive Kit was, or how sore a loser he could be until he saw him interact with his brother. Kit didn't take losing to Sam well either. Sam started thinking about some other things he could challenge Kit to and found himself turning to laugh about it with Dean. He drank eggnog, avoided the mojitos, exchanged gifts, the whole time feeling anxious but not frantic. There were a few inquiries, and Jenny stuck pretty close to him, but he brushed them off with assurances that Dean was always fine, and would be back soon. Despite that, before he went to bed, he hacked into his brother's cell phone account, only to discover that the built-in GPS chip had no report of a current signal. Dean just didn't turn off his cell phone. He didn't sleep well at all that night.
The next morning Dean's phone was still going straight to voice mail so he borrowed a car from Jeremy's family and headed north up the 1A checking for the Impala at diners and bars, even driving through the parking lots of some of a few motels. He'd gone north as far as Atlantic Beach before turning west, and followed Route 1 south and east back still scanning for the Impala. He was sure Dean would have returned by the time he returned but was bitterly disappointed when after several hours he pulled back into Jeremy's driveway and still didn't see the Impala.
He contacted those of his Dad's friends that would answer the phone but none had heard from Dean or Dad since the last time he'd checked with them. He decided not to call Dad, it felt a little too much like tattling since Dean was probably holed up with an available girl in a comfortable bed for Christmas, and it wasn't like Dad would answer and wish him Season's Greetings. At least today, the 26th, was a Monday, and offices and police stations and morgues would start answering non emergency calls again.
By Wednesday afternoon, Sam was climbing the walls. He'd been scouring traffic accident reports, police logs, car impoundments, hospital admissions, and motel check-ins north of Ormond Beach all the way north and east through Georgia to coastal South Carolina and north and west to New Orleans. He'd tried Dean's cell countless times. A few of his friends left, but most were staying for New Year's. Jeremy offered to help in any way he could only to joke on Tuesday that his help appeared to consist of dragging Sam away from his laptop and phone a few times a day in order to force him to eat and see sunlight.
So when Jeremy came to the door, Sam was sure it was only to suggest he once again stand up and move just to avoid blood clots or blindness or something equally horrible which Jeremy assured him arose directly from spending too much time on a computer. He was on the phone checking hospitals between Brunswick and Savannah, and waved at the phone, saying, "I'm on hold".
Jeremy said, "Have you checked your email? Stanford's trying to find you."
Sam only checked his Stanford box once a week at most and he'd just spent a few days with almost anyone who might have sent him an email. He opened the account, scanning quickly, and found an email from Student Services posted on Monday. It was brief, just mentioned a family emergency, and gave him a name and phone number to call.
Without hesitating, he called the number, practically holding his breath until it was answered, and almost before a woman's voice said "Hello", he said, "This is Sam, Sam Winchester. Is this Jill McDevitt?"
OOOOO
He met Jill by the Information Desk in the "Medical Plaza" of the Cape Canaveral Hospital, a large open two story atrium style entrance, with a huge sky light and marble clad columns. He spotted a woman near the information desk, slightly turned from the doors, in conversation with someone in scrubs. It had to be Jill – she had dark hair, a white coat, and bright red clogs just like she promised on the phone. The top of her head barely reached his sternum when he stepped up behind her, clearing his throat slightly. She turned, and raised her head, unconsciously taking a step back, until she was looking in his face.
"My goodness. Are you Sam?"
"Yes, uh," seeing Jill McDermitt, MD, sewn onto the left pocket of her coat, "ma'am, I'm Sam. Can you take me to Dean?"
"I know you don't want to hear this, Sam, but you and I really have to talk before I take you to his room. Let's go to my office. And call me Jill." She started to steer him toward the elevators, but he stopped suddenly.
"You told me that he was going to be alright, not seriously hurt, why would I have to wait?" He took what even he knew sounded like a panicked breath, "Has something happened?"
"No Sam, nothing's happened, I promise Dean is still going to be fine." She tugged his arm, and got him moving, shepherding him onto the elevator and pushed the button for the sixth floor. "You remember I told you I'm not Dean's primary doctor, I'm an ER doc, right? I recognized him when he was brought into the emergency room here on Christmas."
"How do you know him?" He was relieved when the elevator door opened, letting him move freely. Jill pointed down the hallway to the left and he walked briskly, while Jill, startled ran after him.
"Just a minute, slow down will you?" She caught up to him, and turned him down a smaller corridor and then into a small office. Showing him a chair, she offered him coffee, and sat on a chair next to his.
He was so tense that he had to deliberately relax his muscles just to sit down. He accepted a mug, and repeated, "How do you know him?"
"Your brother saved my son and me two years ago. You know what Dean does full-time?"
"I don't think I've heard it said quite like that, but yes, I know. Dean, my dad, me, we all work the same job. I took a break from it when I went to Stanford." He rubbed his eyes and took a gulp of coffee. "What took you so long to reach me? My number is right in Dean's phone – it's the ICE number."
She stood, and opened a drawer in her desk, and handed him something in a baggie as she sat down. It looked like Dean's cell phone if it had exploded. "Oh." He had an image of what Dean might look like if the phone in his pocket looked this bad, and closed his eyes.
"I know what you're thinking Sam, but it's OK. The police said the phone was in his hand when he was hit." He felt his eyes widen – hit? She looked at his face. "A couple of guys here tried to access it, get it turned back on... but, it's pretty much a goner. Maybe showing you that wasn't such a good idea, huh? I need to start at the beginning. What do you know of his trip to Florida two years ago? Did he mention the cave in Ocala?"
"I heard something about it but really, Dean'd rather cut off his left nu … arm, than go in a cave. He's convinced they're full of giant man eating rats." He hesitated, not wanting to expose too many of Dean's foibles to outsiders. "I don't really know much about what he and Dad did here two years ago."
"My son and I were taken, dragged into a cave, while we were down from Wisconsin. My husband and I were visiting hospitals, interviewing for jobs. We were looking to move here to be closer to my husband's mother." She hesitated. "This is still hard to say out loud, but what grabbed us were creatures that I almost still don't believe were real."
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and said, "Sasquatches?"
"Dean called them Skunk Apes, said they were a special Florida version. I've looked them up since them. I couldn't tell you if they looked like the pictures you see on line, but their size, their smell – that's all real." She still had to look up to see his face, even sitting. "This is much harder than I thought. OK, Dean came into that cave and got us out. He killed both of them but was a wreck by the time we airlifted him to the hospital."
Sam's jaw sagged open. "He had to hate that."
"You two really are brothers – the same gift for understatement. Yeah, he did, but we saved his leg, and that's the last I saw of him until Sunday, Christmas. There was an accident out on A1", Sam sat straighter, "but he wasn't in it. He was brought in as a 'Good Samaritan'. The cops said he'd been first on the scene, called 911, and helped the MVA victims until the ambulances arrived. He was standing by the road, talking to the guys on the scene, and had just pulled out his phone when a rubber necking idiot clipped him before plowing into the victim's cars. We're pretty sure Dean's phone was run over."
"He was hit but you said he wasn't badly hurt?" Sam replayed images from some of those police video shows where people crashed into cars on the side of the road, sometimes running right into the police cruisers flashing lights and all.
"He was thrown onto his back, and right into the side of his car. He was totally out when they brought him in. His shoulders lost some skin, but the worst injury was the blow to his head and the concussion."
"He has a very hard head..."
"Don't I know it. The reason I needed to talk to you first was what has happened since he woke up. I'm not sure I can blame myself, but I might have precipitated it." She took a deep breath, "Sam, I was there when he woke up. He asked where he was and I told him Cape Canaveral. He kept telling me about something that attacked him outside his motel – jumped on him from the roof and bit him. I found some scars on his left scapula that could be a bite, but knowing what he does, I'm not sure what it is. But, Sam, the important thing you need to know is that when he saw me, it's like it convinced him that it was 2004. He's positive its January last year."
Sam almost stopped breathing. She continued, "It's not that uncommon for some amnesia like symptoms to occur after a concussion, and it usually clears up quickly, but it will help him to get better if there's someone who can remind him of current events. I haven't checked on him today because I'm afraid I just keep moving time backwards for him." She took a sip of her coffee and made a face. "This is cold – do you want some more?"
He shook his head. "I just really want to see Dean."