Howdy All! Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas!
Time got away from me and I never meant to take so long to post this in its entirety.
And a Woot-Hoot to all of you who took the time to leave me your thoughts and kind words!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
"Do whatever it takes to convince him to come back with you." Dean gave in. "Say whatever you have to."
"You mean, you want me to lie to him." Bobby's tone showed his disapproval, he didn't need to voice what he truly felt.
"If that's what it takes….yeah. You don't have any idea how he's gonna be IF you find him. He may not even recognize you or respond if he hears you calling him, so yeah, lie through your fucking teeth."
"Manipulate him." Bobby huffed. "I'm not ok doing that to him."
"I don't care."
"What can he say? Sam would…" Manny began only to gulp nervously when a finger poked him in the throat. "Er, that is….."
"You shut up." Dean growled. "Bobby, tell him the weather cleared and it's time to go find Herbert."
"Would be better to wait until daylight…" Manny tried to explain before falling silent under a glare that promised death. "I mean, we still don't know...I mean we haven't found..." he tried again but was effectively silenced by a mere hand motion. "I mean, shut up Manny."
"You be on that sofa when we get back, or else." and Bobby went out the door.
Dean heard the door slam solidifying the departure of the two men and allowed his body to slump boneless into the depths of the sofa. More like a loveseat really, but it didn't matter. He was freezing, couldn't rub the goose bumps from his arms and legs no matter how vigorously he rubbed himself with his hands and curling up in a ball in an attempt to create warmth didn't stop the shivering.
He tried to remember if he were still being given painkillers, came to the conclusion he was and sat up with the intent to seek out more. Once vertical however, he rethought the need for relief and settled for swigging from the bottle of Emetrol before lying back down. He'd have gone to bed had there been a bed to go to. He wasn't comfortable on the sofa, missed the warmth from a body being next to him and didn't doubt Bobby's threat should he be found elsewhere. He was miserable and alone and teetered between making use of the bowl Bobby had provided and passing out.
***000***
"So, you….aah, were, uh, are kinda mean to Dean, don't you think?" Manny plodded along after Bobby. All three vehicles were accounted for so Sam was on foot.
"He never stays where he's put." Bobby hefted the heavy backpack he'd retrieved from the trunk of his car over one shoulder, flashlight in hand. "Memmbe you should stay here. I ain't back in an hour; I'll have two idiots to look for."
"You expect me to keep Dean here if he decides to go after you?"
"Yeah, well thing is….I find Sam and he finds out I left Dean alone…he ain't gonna be happy." Bobby rubbed his jaw. "I don't need him fighting me." he wavered, debating on what mental condition he'd find Sam in. "You stay here." he announced, banking on the belief once he convinced Sam that Dean had never been lost and was at the camper, tucked up warm and dry with Manny babysitting, he'd be ok and be in the here-n-now. He pushed aside the nagging memory that Manny had lost Sam while on Sam-watch.
"How do you know which way to go?"
Bobby didn't respond because he didn't know the answer. He set off in the direction of the bath house, eyes scanning the ground, bushes and trees for signs of having recently been crashed through.
Manny watched him until he was out of sight then returned to the camper, locking the door behind him. No way was another Winchester escaping on his watch. Dean didn't move when he entered and if Manny hadn't known better, he'd never have guessed someone, let alone a man of Dean's size, was amidst the bundle of blankets on the sofa.
He put water on to boil then set about putting the bedroom back to rights. When he was done and he stepped out of the room, unable to rehang the door properly, Dean was emerging from his cocoon. Manny watched as he wiggled his way to a mostly sitting position, bloodshot eyes darting about looking for movement within the small area of the camper. He waited, but other than rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Dean didn't move.
Manny hovered in the doorway, switching his weight from one foot to the other, as he waited for Dean to pass out. He didn't make a sound, barely moved, but apparently Dean knew he was there and who he was.
"You." Dean accused, head against the sofa, eyes closed. "You took my blanket."
"Uh...erhm...no?"
A soft snort. "Sam?"
"Bobby thought it would be better if he could tell Sam he hadn't left you alone."
Dean shrugged, made sense. He drifted off and with a pat on the head, Manny left him be. At some point, he must have whined or whimpered or sniffed because hands were petting and patting him then a mug was put in his hands. He warily took a whiff, suspicious he would be allowed coffee. He was quite sure both Sam and Bobby would hit the roof were he offered caffeine. Yup, tea….yuck. He hated tea but he was cold and shaking and his leg gave him fits and his belly hurt and he ached all over, felt every bruise and scratch inflicted during the attack at the bar, so, he sipped.
Words were muttered and he heard the comfort of shushing as the blankets were tucked more tightly around him. He obediently opened his mouth and swallowed when told. Pain pills were a wonderful thing but these weren't as strong as what he'd been taking. And he knew that because this time he was told to swallow, not hold under his tongue. He yawned, feeling safe and warm, even if he couldn't stop shivering. Probably Percoden, Sam's favored choice of pain relief when he was in charge of distribution.
***000***
Convinced his brain was swimming inside his skull, Sam stumbled from bush to tree to tree without the ability to blink his vision into singular sight. His head had split in two, eyebrows attempting to burrow into his skull from which his brain was trying to escape. He gave up trying to walk and went to his knees. Forehead held against is skull by the palms of both hands, he squirmed around to sit on his ass, back against a tree.
He needed five minutes to rest, because back or breast stroke, brains shouldn't be able to kick one's own head. The wet ground soon soaked the seat of his jeans and his teeth began to chatter from the feeling of overall dampness. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes; his headache was manageable, if barely bearable. His own comfort could be seen to once he had Dean back and returned to the safety of the camper. It didn't matter that his head was too heavy to sit atop his shoulders; he could see straight, and as long as he could do so, he would search for his brother.
Well, he would as soon as his head stopped taunting him, stopped telling him stupid things, stopped making him see things that weren't really there and stopped chanting his name repeatedly. Soon as all was quiet, he'd get to his feet and resume his search.
"SAM! Sam! SAM! Damn you boy! ANSWER ME!"
"NO!" he whispered. "Stop it!" he ordered the sing-song voice in his head….not now, God, please, not now. He could fight it off, he would…he had to…..because Dean….. "Just...stop it."
"Sam? SAM! You alright?" Bobby approached cautiously, not sure if Sam would come at him swinging and shooting, tackle him or simply stare athim. "Hey, Sam, it's me, ole Bobby…..you with me?"
"Bobby?" he struggled with his head, argued with his brain, willed his sub-conscious to become present. Bobby kept talking and he followed the familiar voice back to reality, finally able to raise his head and see Bobby with focused eyes. "Bobby? Bobby, Dean…he…he's….!"
"No, no, no, NO, he's fine…..he was with me Sam, I took him over to the bath house. I left you with Manny, all you had to do was ask. Remember? We've talked about that. Ask your questions out loud, don't follow the voices in your head."
"You…you're you? You're really here?"
"Yeah, it's me, I'm really here. Now come on, let's get you back to the camper, Dean's waiting."
"No…" the success he'd had corralling his headache slipped. It had threatened to take over and now that he knew Dean was safe, he no longer had the strength to fight it.
"Sam, hey! Oh no, you don't! Sam, don't you fade out on me, not out here…no, no, no, no, you can't. Don't you dare…come on, we've gotta get back to Dean."
"Head…hurts."
"Fight it." Bobby ordered. "Fight through it Sam, we can't stay out here...we can't."
"Nooo." he moaned.
"Suck it up and come with me." Bobby waited. "We have to go back, it's dark and cold...you don't want Dean out here, do you?"
"No." he let his chin rest on his chest. "Don't - want - him - here."
"Then you have to get up and go back to him or he will come after you, you know he will."
"Can't, head hurts Bobby...God...it's like...mmmm."
"You can lie down at the camper, get dry and warm, see Dean. He... I left him with Manny Sam, you think he'll take waking up in bed next to Manny well?"
"Eh?" he mumbled. "But...it hurts!"
"I know kid." Bobby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know." and he wished to God there was something more he could do to help the kid through the headaches brought on by stress and fear over his brother. Meds, a quiet room and a wet cloth weren't much but it was all Bobby would be able to provide. They still didn't know the depth or extent of Sam's inner torment and Bobby doubted they ever would so other than locking Dean up so he couldn't get hurt or sick or lost or be placed in danger, there was little else he could do to help Sam.
"I need...just need a minute."
"You don't have a minute. We hafta get back before Dean gets it in his head he needs to come help me find you. I'm telling you Sam, he can't carry or pick you up off the ground. Not when we don't know why he's bleeding or what he's hurt in his belly."
"I..."
"He can't take this cold." he waited, eyes on Sam as the younger man fought to ward off the coming migraine. If he went down, there was no way Bobby would get him back to the camper. "He's not getting any better Sam, the fog has lifted, the rain has let up, by the time we get back and you get changed and we get around, it'll be dawn and we can head out."
"Head - out - where?" Sam concentrated on his breathing, trying to take deep breaths without gagging. He heard Bobby, he did, and he believed Dean was safe at the camper with Manny and while his panic over finding Dean gone had yet to completely subside, he was getting control of it.
"Sam!" Bobby snapped sharply. He hated having to choose between his two boys, but Sam would survive this round. There was every possibility Dean, trekking through the dark, damp air chilled from rain to find his brother and then have to lift or carry him, would not. "We have to go….Dean needs us…needs you, you can't ignore that. He has to come first. Shove your shit down, man up, and let's go!"
Clenching his teeth, Sam fought to his feet. Once standing, he held tight to the tree, accepted a bottle of water from Bobby and allowed the older man to lend him a steady hand.
"You good?" Bobby asked, feeling rotten for being so stern with the kid. "Okay then, let's go."
***000***
Manny had been watching out the window and as soon as they came into sight of the camper, he threw the door open in welcome. Sam had one arm slung across Bobby's shoulders but was walking on his own, Bobby simply guiding his steps, not bearing his weight.
"About time!" Manny scolded. "Hey Sam."
"Dean?" Sam asked immediately.
"Just waking up. How the hell he knows it's been an hour is beyond me, come on….let's get you some aspirin, some hot tea and some dry clothes."
"I'm ok, but tea sounds great, thanks." he gave Bobby a questioning look that Bobby ignored. What was this about an hour?
"You got any dry, clean clothes left?" Bobby asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." he noticed Dean's red, swollen eyes were tracking their movements as the three jostled around one another for position in the camper. "You awake?"
"Depends." he muttered, still judging Sam's state of mind. "Uh, no?" he let it dangle as a question then sighed when it appeared no one was biting. "What?"
"What'd you give him?" Sam asked Manny. Dean might be awake but he was not alert nor did he look good. His eyes were glassy, his teeth chattered, he sat and shivered and panted. "Dammit."
"Vicodin." Manny blinked, paling. "That's right, isn't it? It's the bottle you left."
"Yeah, it's fine." he pushed at his wet hair, accepting a towel from Manny. "Thanks."
"Sam…come on, get those clothes off. We'll put Dean to bed and once you're changed and dry, you can lay down with him." Bobby heaved a sigh when he saw Sam gear up to protest. "We'll get you some aspirin and a cold towel for your head."
"Ice pack." Sam corrected.
"Sure..sure. We'll make plans to leave at first light."
***000***
Herbert Winston Coleman rounded his mahogany desk, tumbler of fifty-year old Macallan scotch in his hand. He had reason to celebrate; his business, dealing in unusual, other world artifacts, had thankfully survived the bumbling attempt of those two incompetent hunters. What had those fools been thinking? Like they could take him out!?
He chuckled as he sat down in his chair made of the softest leather and rested his feet upon his desk, crossing one ankle over the other amidst piles of hundred-dollar bills. Yes indeed, his latest transaction had been extremely successful.
Well, ok, he'd concede one point in the favor of those bumbling morons; they'd actually managed to vanquish his biddable spirit. He frowned; now he'd have to go about finding a way to get himself another one, but hey, that was doable and those hunters were paying the price. One had been struck by his laser, he was certain of that. He'd come across him at the bar and while he may have failed to finish him off then, the curse would take care of that for him. He'd be dead before his partner knew about the curse. That's if the injuries he'd inflicted upon the hunter didn't do him in first.
He briefly thought perhaps he should guard his gooseberry bush, but there was no way on earth or in heaven, certainly not hell, that they would know about the antidote or that he and he alone had the only available supply of gooseberries needed for it.
He'd searched nearby hospitals and clinics for the pair but other than hearing about a break-in at a clinic that boasted a full pharmacy, he'd been unable to find a trace of either of them. That didn't make sense and the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed he'd yet to hear of a hunter's death or at least hear that one had been admitted to a hospital with a severe burn and possible internal injuries.
He doubted they'd gotten away….no, he knew they hadn't. They were holed up in some seedy motel room and there they would remain until death. They'd never even know what hit them. He wasn't worried about the other one. He'd go on his way, write the death of as hunt-related and take up a job elsewhere.
Rain slashed with sudden fury against his office window and he raised his glass in toast and knocked back the remaining scotch. Even the weather had been in his favor. The cold, the dampness from the heavy fog, the icy rain, the chilly, strong wind, all worked in favor of the rapid onset of hypothermia.
He got up and walked over to his side bar to pour himself a refill. Hunters. They were really, truly over-rated. Easy to take out a spirit, not so easy to avoid curses and break them once infected.
"Aah, Herbert." he toasted himself in the mirror. "You truly are…" his eyes locked on the image in the mirror of a man standing behind him. He just stood there; not moving, not speaking. He wore jeans and a jacket and Herbert believed him to be one of his workers from the warehouse. Probably worried about his job. No need, Herbert had already located another warehouse and would begin moving in within the week. He was not out of business, there'd be plenty of work.
"Herbert Winston Coleman."
"The one and only." he turned around, knocking back the drink. "Something I can help you with?"
"I just want you to know something."
"And that would be?" he poured a third drink. "I have office hours and a secretary….."
"Who it was you tried to kill before you die." pause. "Any why you failed."
"I beg your pardon?" Herbert quirked an eyebrow. "You must have me mistaken….."
"I know who you are and what you do. I want you to know the mistake you made before I kill you."
"You think you're going to kill me?" he laughed. "You? Here? Now? Highly unlikely."
"I don't see any laser security beams in your office."
"Aah, I see." Herbert walked over to his desk and set the tumbler down. "You're one of the hunters from the warehouse break-in. Well, if you stayed out of where you don't belong, your partner would still be among us." he hid a frown upon hearing the specific reference to the laser.
"He's my brother and you didn't succeed in killing him."
"You're brother, huh? Well, he might still be with us but I assure you, it's temporary."
"Oh, you mean the curse? I already found your house and I have the gooseberries needed to make the antidote." stunned, Herbert abruptly sat down. "I see you're surprised…maybe I should let you live. Take your tongue, your sight, your hands, your feet…..shoot you in the knee caps, let you live in a world you can't communicate in. Would you like that Herbert? Ain't no one around who would lift a finger to help you."
"Who…? Who the fuck are you?!" Herbert demanded with false bravery. This man unsettled him and he casually reclined in his chair to reach for the .45 loaded with silver rounds he kept in a pocket of his chair.
"My name isn't important but since you asked, it's Sam. Sam Winchester and I am going to enjoy being the last person you ever see." and Dean would do happy dances over the piles of money and Bobby would give him a kiss when he presented the grumpy old man with those bottles of scotch sitting on the side bar.
"I don't believe you." Herbert said bravely, waiting for his hands to cease shaking and become steady. "I sent men to every hospital and clinic and urgent care facility within an hour's drive of here. The storm towards Mt. Hood…..no one would have stayed put through that, the town was evacuated. I checked motels...nothing. No one fit either your physical description or your brother's symptoms."
"I don't need a hospital or a doctor to take care of him. I can - and did and always will - do it myself." Sam explained. "I know how to keep him safe." and he had by insisting they remain at the camper throughout the storm. Had they been in a hospital or motel, there'd been no way to know if Bobby and Sam would have been able to protect Dean 24/7.
"You couldn't have known about the curse...you...you're just human..."
"Am I?" Sam gave him a sick smile.
Herbert fired at the same time Sam did but he had neither Sam's accuracy nor speed. Perhaps if he'd been able to shoot first, he'd have been able to take the hunter out but Sam's shot was a kill shot, even it if would take several minutes for Herbie to bleed out.
"Thing is Herbie, no one…no one is ever going to get away with trying to take my brother from me." he pulled up a chair and began to count the stacks of money sitting on the desk while Herbert lay, gurgling in a heap at his feet. He wasn't going anywhere until Herbert drew his last breath.
***00***
"He eating anything?" Bobby wiped his hands on a dish towel, happy to be back at the cabin that was now his home.
"Ice cream." Sam supplied, sprawled on the couch, one socked foot hanging over the arm, magazine open across his lap.
"That's it? And you're ok with that?"
"Hey, least it's calcium." Sam sighed. "All he wants is chocolate ice cream or a chocolate milkshake. He's been so miserable I've been reluctant to deny him anything."
"Yuh-huh. Give it another couple days, you'll want to gag him 'cause he'll drive you nuts."
"Would be different if he wasn't keeping anything down, you know?" Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the magazine and thumbing to the next page. "But he is, so..."
"Two days Sam, two more days….then it's back to a doctor….we never should have taken him from the hospital."
"Couldn't very well leave him there. How were we supposed to answer all those questions? And he's fine, he's off the heavy pain meds which means he'll start eating soon."
"He better." Bobby threatened. "He damn well better."
If only!
"Sam…..dude, hungry here." Dean begged. "Did you not hear me?" he plopped his spoon into his bowl of….what was the definition of gruel anyway? "This…this…this is not dinner, it can't be…it's not food." he stirred and slopped, wrinkled his nose, stirred and spooned and gave up with a scowl of disgust. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Hell, he couldn't bring himself to even attempt a taste.
"Sure Dean."
"Bobby, how about a steak?" he turned hopeful eyes to the elder hunter. "Mashed potatoes? Some gravy? Grill some onions…..how about that? What'd'ya say? Huh? Huh? Yeah!" he nodded eagerly, pleased with himself for his decision. "You've done nothing but bitch about me eating...so, cooked well done, if you don't mind."
"He'd say you haven't eaten anything in over a week." Sam set some warm rolls on the table. "He'd say you've been on heavy-ass pain killers and just started eating toast and crackers so your stomach isn't up to grilled, fried, hot, spicy or heavy food. So how about you give me and Bobby some peace and quiet and eat your soup."
"This is soup?" he questioned dubiously. "You sure?"
"Yes."
"Bobby? A burger? No onions, won't even ask for fries."
"Sorry Dean."
"But I'm hungry!"
"Then eat." Sam sighed.
"This? I hafta eat this?" he asked mournfully. "Really?"
"Yeah, you do." Sam kept the affection from the grin he gave his brother. Dean would see it as a smug smirk and Sam just didn't want to deal with a tired and grumpy Dean. Cranky was all he could take.
"But…why?"
"Dean….eat." Sam sighed. Oh yeah, Dean was definitely feeling better. The curse broken, Herbie no longer among the living, the diagnosis of lacerated spleen confirmed by a doctor and Dean was well on his way to being wholly mended.
"Can I have a cookie? Gimme a cookie." he reached to help himself to one of Sam's oatmeal-molasses cookies but was thwarted first, by Bobby smacking the back of his hand with the ladle used to serve him soup then by Sam moving the plate out of his reach. "One cookie?! Come on, I've been good."
"When?" Bobby exclaimed with a snort. "You've been difficult and stubborn and a pain in the ass since I met up with you."
"What? Noooo." he shook his head in vehement denial. "Sam….tell him."
"Dude, he made me cookies." Sam munched around a mouthful of cookie while Dean eyed him wistfully. "For putting up with you."
"Yeah, well….." he pulled a pout before frowning in irritation. "It's all your fault anyway."
Sam choked, spewing cookie crumbs. Bobby calmly handed him a napkin. "Shit you say!" he sputtered. "How is any of this my fault?"
"You got me stranded in a camper in the middle of nowhere during a freak storm." Dean accused happily. He pointed a finger at his cookie-munching brother. "Your fault."
"Oh yeah? Well it was your fault I didn't get any sleep." Sam retorted.
"Gimme a cookie!" he made a grab for the plate.
"No." Sam swatted his hand away. "Get off, they're mine."
Bobby turned his back on the bickering siblings, smirking fondly as he wiped his hands on a towel that he had to raise and dab at his eyes. Stranded and sleepless but always together. Those were his boys.
***END***