Chapter 10 - No Such Luck

The nurse had just placed a cannula under Sam's nose while the doctor jotted notes in his chart. "I can't be certain until we get the results back, but I'm fairly confident that your brother has pneumonia in addition to his other injuries."

"What?" Dean's eyebrows shot up and Faith could practically feel the anger and frustration rolling off of him.

"It can incubate for up to ten days before symptoms present."

Faith looked up at Dean standing to her left. Her voice was hushed. "He has been coughing a lot over the last day or so."

"Great." Dean ran a rough hand over his face as the doctor began to make his exit.

"We'll take good care of him." Doctor Thompson patted his shoulder. "I'm here all night. Call the nurse if you need anything and she'll page me."

He disappeared through the door leaving Dean to lean heavy on the back of the plastic covered hospital recliner. Instinctively Faith rubbed a hand across his back and came to rest her head gently on his shoulder.

It was as if the barrier broke between them for a brief moment as Dean gave voice to the troubles in his mind. "You guys get kidnapped, I nearly kill the ranger, you almost die, the monster got away, and now this." He raised his chin a notch and gestured toward Sam. "And here I am bitching and you're the one who's been through hell today! Can't get a freaking thing right on this one."

She nodded and put her hand gently on his cheek, "Don't beat yourself up. None of this is on you."

"I should've seen Sam was sick. I should've…"

"Nope. None, and I mean none of this is on you. So save it, Winchester." She whispered firmly and followed it with a small smile.

Dean couldn't help but feel a measure of the tension release within his chest as he pulled her in for a tight hug. They would get through this like they did before...together.

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Sam's x-ray came back an hour and a half later with a confirmed case of pneumonia. The doctor told Dean it was not overly severe and assured him that the antibiotics would have him well quickly. The major concern was the head trauma. "He needs rest. Hopefully the swelling will go down over night and we'll have a clearer picture of his condition in the morning."

Faith had slipped into pajamas and attempted to stay awake for the results, but ultimately sleep won out. Dean slid an arm under her knees and behind her back easily lifting her from the recliner and moved her across the room to the pullout couch. Dean returned to Sam's bedside and sat in the chair with his elbows resting on his knees. Folding his hands and looking heavenward he whispered intently "Cass? Where are ya man?" He paused waiting for the swooshing of wings and heard none. "Sam's sick, Faith's beat up, and I've got a monster to hunt." He swallowed hard holding back the emotional torrent threatening to overrun the barrier he so readily used to shield himself from the outside world. "I could really use some backup here." The room was silent except for the steady pumping of oxygen and ticking of the monitor.

Dean pushed against the anger and frustration and stayed with his head bowed and hands clasped on the edge of the bed for far longer than he realized. Faith tossing in the crisp sheets woke him. He glanced at his watch, 2:36am.

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Faith's nightmare held her captive. The explosive combination of her memories, Dean's memories, and the days trauma swirled in a disconnected rhythm through her dreams. She could feel the terror rising as each horrible thing gave way to the next in a never ending cycle. In each scenario there was no means of escape, no way to survive. She could see the surface of consciousness and could not attain it. She felt strong arms slide around her and instinctively knew he was there. Her mind quieted as she felt the warmth of his embrace. She was safe, she was sheltered, she was home.

Dean pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple and she immediately curled into him. Her lean frame fit perfectly to his body and he heaved a sigh of relief as her nearness momentarily melted his anger away.

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The sun peaked through the slatted blinds of the window above her head. Faith squinted against the offending light. Dean lay on her right with an arm slung around her waist. She studied his features noting the lines of constant tension and worry gone in the peacefulness of sleep. Watching him there she captured the memory and held it close knowing that on lonely nights to come this would be the thing that brought her peace. When his nightmares racked her nights she would remember this. Gently she placed a cool hand on his cheek enjoying the feel of the stubble on his jaw. His long dark lashes parted revealing the emerald eyes once again stealing her breath away. A smile played at the corner of his lips as his eyes made contact with hers. She knew this man almost as well as he knew himself and understood that this sweet, peaceful moment would soon give way to the anger bubbling beneath the surface from the night before. He glanced towards the bed where Sam lay and just as she suspected, the lines of tension etched themselves into his features.

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A few moments later Dean was lacing up his boots, "I'll be back later."

Faith sat on the edge of the pull out bed adjusting the mass of curls into a bun, "I'm going with you." She said, her voice still raspy.

"No you're not, Faith. This thing is big, it's strong, and it's freakin' possessed."

"Yeah, I'm the one who told you." She said a bit louder after taking another sip of water. "You don't need to do this without backup, Dean."

"I'd send you home, but I know you won't go. So, you can back me up by keeping an eye on Sam. Doc says some of the swelling's gone down, but he's not out of the woods. They're keeping him sedated…"

"And that means he doesn't need me today." Faith had walked across to the bathroom door and closed it before Dean could get off a good retort.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing this with you." He said over his shoulder as he adjusted his jeans over the top of his boots. "You're not going."

"Don't pull that shit with me, Dean Winchester." She called from the other side of the door. "You don't need to go alone and you at least need a plan before you…" She paused for a moment realizing what he had probably done. "You're already gone, aren't you." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "I'm gonna kick your ass." She whispered to herself because Dean had slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall.

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His phone rang as he slid into the driver's seat. He knew exactly who it was and exactly what she had to say. So, he sent her to voicemail. As he turned the key in the ignition a text message came through, 'You better check in regularly or I'm coming to find you.' A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he typed out a reply, but when he put the phone down the harsh lines of anger mixed with determination settled in. He pulled out of the parking lot squealing tires on pavement.

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The reply came through, 'I'll bring your stuff by later. Don't leave the hospital.' She put her phone down sharply and rolled her eyes, "Bossy." After taking a deep breath and resigning herself to her fate she went to Sam's bedside and looked over the monitors. He seemed to be doing alright. It was a little scary to know that he wouldn't be waking up today, but the doctor assured her that the "induced coma" would help the healing process.

She took his hand in her own and ran her fingers through his hair, "How about some coffee, Sammy?" She knew he probably could not hear her, but she wanted him to know she was there.

Stepping a bit closer to the bed her foot bumped into something pulling her attention away from Sam and to the floor. There sat his duffle bag gaping open with one of the leather bound journals that she readily recognized peaking out of the mess of plaid and denim. Internally she struggled with maintaining Sam's privacy and an incredible curiosity. She recognized the worn faded leather from Dean's memories as belonging to their mentor and pseudo-father, Bobby. Giving in to her curiosity she reached down and picked it up with a sort of reverence, "Hope you don't mind, Sam." The leather was soft and well worn and the pages tattered and creased.

Pulling the glasses from the side pocket of her bag she then curled into the blue armchair at Sam's bedside and started looking for information on demon possession of something other than a human. Certain pages brought on memories of hunts from Dean's past: wendigos, shifters, demons. She read for hours about demons and water creatures but never found anything tying the two together until late afternoon when she stumbled upon a brief note about a hunter named Garth who had called Bobby about a possessed creature. There were no details and only two sentences. She read and reread the brief lines and found nothing more than the fact that the call had taken place.

"Looks like I need to talk to Garth." She mumbled. Pulling the glasses from her nose she glanced towards the bedside table in search of Sam's cell. She stood, stretched and then took a step towards the table only to pause and contemplate the repercussions of her decision. In an instant she knew that if Sam were awake he would make the call himself. "Thanks, Sam. And I promise I won't look at any of your pictures." She said with a small smile.

Scrolling through the contacts she found the name she was looking for, Garth Fitzgerald. A mental image appeared of a tall thin man giving Dean a bear hug and she couldn't help but smile. Another memory played across her thoughts of the same thin fellow admitting to being a werewolf and being in love. She briefly sorted through the lingering emotional struggle that Dean had faced in choosing to spare Garth's life then dialed the number.

The phone rang twice before a thin wavering voice answered, "Hey Sam! What's going on?"

She hesitated a moment mentally preparing her words, "Hi Garth. My name's Faith Garron. I'm a friend of the Winchester's. I need your help."

A note of determination came over the line, "Anything for my boys."

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His first stop was the old hunting shack where Faith and Sam had been held hostage. The smell was much worse than he remembered and it was all he could do not to throw up. Circling the small structure he looked for prints or a trail of some sort that would indicate where the creature had gone. However, he found no evidence besides the worn path down to the river and knew that most likely the beast would stick to the waterways. He wondered if the silver knife had done any damage, but since there was a demon involved he sincerely doubted it. He would have to locate the beast, expel the demon, and then kill what was left. It was a loose idea, but at least it was a plan of sorts. He could hear Sam now, "That's a terrible plan." At hearing his brother's voice in his mind his anger was renewed. He moved quickly to the tree line and followed the river back towards where he had parked the Impala just under a mile away.

His next stop was Ranger Dave's office. However, he was informed by the sign on the door that dear Ranger Dave had called in sick for the day. So, Dean made a call to the local sheriff's office for the ranger's home address. Since he was already out of Chadron he made his way down the highway towards Box Butte State Recreational Park where the previous victim had been taken. He spoke with the park ranger who was a nice enough fellow, but provided no new information. Dean left his fake FBI card with a good phone number in case the ranger spotted anything strange.

He was truly frustrated. Glancing at his watch he felt the day wasting away with no significant progress. The seconds ticked by and for a moment his gaze was glued to the watch face. Each hand moved pushing forward the time, never stopping, never going back, always moving forward. His mind retraced the recent months and he could vividly remember each second of his life ticking away. He remembered each second he had hunted, each second he had driven, each second he had researched, each second he had to much to drink, each second he had argued with Sam, each second of every sleepless night, and each and every second he had spent missing her. In this moment he wondered if living without her was worth the pain. He spent days, months even, thinking of her and wondering if she was okay. Maybe if he could keep in touch things would be different. Maybe he could focus on hunting better if he could talk to her or see her once in awhile. Maybe he could keep her hidden from all the terrible things that would want to hurt her because of her association with him. When the final thought crossed his mind he shoved it aside and forced his focus back to the situation at hand. He needed leads. He needed them fast. Throwing the sleek black car in drive he floored the gas pedal and headed for Ranger Dave's home address.

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She dialed Dean's number for the third time with the same result, voicemail. She attempted to convince herself that he was in an area with no reception, nothing was wrong, and he would call back soon. She sent a text message this time, "IMPORTANT! Call as soon as you can!" He needed to know how to deal with this thing. She knew he would have a loose plan and if it was what she had thought of initially herself then he was about to be in whole lot of trouble.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. The day was fading quickly and someone needed to start on the list of instructions Garth had provided. Since Dean wasn't answering, Faith knew it was up to her. She grabbed the phone Dean had given her from the small table and called the only cab company in town. Her mental checklist ticked off the first item. Step two, she quickly changed back into the dark wash jeans and gray v-neck shirt from the night before and grabbed Dean's red plaid laying across the back of the chair. Step three, she tucked Bobby's journal safely inside her bag alongside the 9mm Smith and Wesson.

Disclaimer & Writers Notes: I do not own nor do I have rights to Supernatural or any of it's characters. Faith, on the other hand, is all mine.

We're building to a brawl, so stay with me and catch the interesting twist in the next couple of chapters.

Hope you are having a good week! My apologies for not posting on Wednesday as I usually do...I pulled a 13 hour day and wrapped up about 1:30 this morning. Fall is a crazy time of year for my work.

Don't know about you guys but I'm so ready for Oct. 12th! Let me know your thoughts on this latest installment of Ounce of Patience and what you're most looking forward to starting lucky season 13! (Loved the "curly fries" line in the season 13 promo!)

xoxo, Jen