10

Sam really was exhausted. And the latest stress had taxed him more than he had realized. He did exactly as he had told Ellen, and drifted off in no time.

Hours later, he awoke—and turned his gaze to his hapless brother.

Dean was awake, and he smiled a little..

"--check my innards will you? I think they're stealing my organs…"

Sam smiled back.

"Are you kidding--? -They're all ruined thanks to your lousy diet.. Nobody wants'em.."

"--you ok?" Dean whispered.

"Me?—no problem. How 'bout you?"

"--full of holes. It's all losing its charm…."

Sam laughed. " Doc says you can go home in four or five days. Unless you spring some new leak…'

"--don't plan to…." Dean mumbled. He was drifting off again. .

Sam smiled to himself and closed his own eyes—his brother seemed to have weathered this latest trauma. He was strong, and he would get better.
He slept for a while longer—when he was interrupted by a visitor. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he greeted her with surprise.

"Hey—wow,--how are you--?"

Jo laughed.
"I'm good. I hear you two have had some adventures though—"
She kissed Sam on top of his head, glancing over at the sleeping patient.

" I talked to Mom—she filled me in on it all. Wow……you guys have a real knack for pissing people off to the point of homicidal mania!"

She took the extra chair and sat beside the bed.
"--How is he, Sam?" Her expression softened.

"Ok—I think. -- It has been a rough ride—mostly for him. This latest thing—spleen apparently—seems to be under control. So if he manages to get a little healthier—they'll let him out in a few days.
Then your poor mother gets to deal with him."

"hmm.." she mused. " He looks like shit. --Mind you—so do you."
Jo was not destined for a career in the diplomatic corps….

"oh—well, thanks" he laughed. "How are things for you? Are you coming back for good or just visiting…?"

"Just a quick visit,--for now…." She looked at Dean for a moment again.
"Mom,-in her infinite wisdom—phoned me and said I should get my butt down here. I'm glad she did. Lord knows what you guys will get into next—I may not get another chance."

"Your Mom has been amazing, Jo. Dean and I would have killed each other with shovels by now. And then, with all this latest Gordon crap right under her own roof--she's just a rock."

Jo smiled enigmatically. "Yep—she's hard-headed all right.
--She loves this, you know. She'll never admit it--but she is so the mother hen"

Dean stirred and opened his eyes. It took him a moment to recognize his visitor.

"--uh oh. I've died,-- and now I'm in hell--" he groaned.

"Nice! --That's typical. -Sam—you must be some kind of saint--" she laughed.

Dean smiled at her. She reached out and stroked his hair. Then they remembered who they were supposed to be, and each looked away, embarrassed.


"Anybody else want a coffee—except you, Dean…?" Sam asked. –He thought he'd torture the two of them by leaving them alone together. Dean flashed him a Don't you dare leave look, which he happily ignored,—heading out to the hall.

"So…" Dean ventured lamely.

They sat, looking at each other. --And at the window. --The floor.
Moments dragged by.
She fiddled with a fascinating thread on her sleeve.
He scratched his head.— his classic expression of embarrassed discomfort.
Finally Jo couldn't help herself, -and she broke into laughter, and Dean laughed and groaned.

"Oh my god. What are we going to do??" she said.

He looked at her, sadly- "—In any other life…you know that, don't you?…"

"—I know."

She trailed her hand over his face.

"I had to come by to make sure you were going to be ok.. ….Are you--?"

"--yeah…………thanks, Jo."

She got up, and kissed his forehead., sighing.

" I have to escape before my mother nabs me and holds me prisoner……but if I hear of you getting into any more crap—I'll come back here and kick your butt,--got it?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Let mom do her hen-thing, Dean….. it'll be good for you."
She smiled-- "Plus, it takes the heat off me—"

She lingered in the doorway for a moment. He watched her—raising his fingers off the blanket in a good-bye.

"I'll be calling to check on you--so behave yourself…"
And she was gone.

Sam came in. Dean's eyes were closed.

"--you're an asshole." Dean growled.

Sam said nothing. He didn't know why these two couldn't just break down the damn wall. They were going to end up waving to each other wistfully from either side forever.

The nurse broke the tension, checking and noting Dean's vitals. She gave him his meds, Sam helped her lean him forward—more gently this time—so that she could tend to his back, and then check the newest stitches on the front.. She seemed satisfied, and she left.

Tired, Dean pressed his head back against the pillow and shut his eyes.

"Ow."

"What hurts, Dean?" Sam asked, instantly concerned.

" Everything. "

Sam was instantly ready to tackle the nearest doctor, but Dean assured him—
"--Relax Sam—I just meant--…" he looked away for a moment. "It's just been a rough couple of days. I'm really, really tired, and I just want to get out of here.."



Sam understood.
" Just a few more days, Dean. Look, do you want to crash for a while? Ellen was planning on returning this evening—it's probably near that time now, but we can come back in a little while—"

Dean really just needed to be alone.
"--maybe for a little while, Sam.--You should get some dinner by now anyway…"

"Sure. I'll keep an eye out for them—they can grab a coffee with me and you can relax. How 'bout we come back around six?"

Dean nodded.

Sam got him more water and then gave him his space.

Alone—Dean tried to shut his mind down. Too much lately. Just too much.
He felt like a spider that had been smacked with a newspaper—wanting to curl all his limbs inward and stop feeling anything.
He wasn't used to being sick—didn't want to hurt anymore. He usually had a high tolerance for this sort of thing--he was used to it, had the scars to prove it. But this time he felt let down,…unfairly beat up by karma, or fate or whatever. Everything, right down to his spirit, felt bruised. Hell--even his hair hurt.
He sighed deeply, hating his weakness…felt like he was never going to be whole again.
He just wanted to get into his car and drive and drive and drive.

But he remembered. On top of everything, -the impala was gone.

His eyes prickled with angry tears. "F—k!", - he thought.
And that pretty much summed it all up.

His depressed mood wore him out and he did fall asleep.

Sam had gotten some things from the cafeteria and decided to wait in the common area for the others.. He knew Dean well enough to see that he needed to sort out his emotions a bit. No one could go through the wringer like that and not have some emotional upheaval.
Sam wished he could help, but he (usually) knew when to back off.

He nibbled at his dinner, -watching the parade of strangers heading in and out—each consumed by their own particular drama.

As he finished his carton of milk—he began to realize that there was a higher than average police presence in the lobby.
One or two officers wasn't unusual—there were always incidents that brought them out to a hospital. I'm becoming as paranoid as Dean, he thought.

But moments later, he was sure that there was something going on. They seemed to be engrossed in discussion—organizing –

Sam's heart was suddenly in his throat. He was sure now that he wasn't imagining things—it looked like they were mobilizing. There could have been a hundred reasons as to why they were there—but Sam had the sinking feeling that it involved Dean.

As he eyed them as discreetly as possible, he saw Ellen and Ash arrive. He kept his head down and headed towards them, giving a silent look of warning to Ellen.

Ellen knew instantly that there was something wrong. Sam herded them to a far corner where they could monitor things surreptitiously while they talked.

"What's going on, Sam,--there are a lot of police out—" she asked, -keeping her voice low. Ash kept his eyes on the officers as they spoke.

"I don't know, Ellen—but I'm worried its about us—I mean, it could be anything, but –"

"Sam, if they are here for him—we can't even go near that room right now. We'll all be picked up for questioning at 

the very least, -and we won't be able to do anything for him from the police station. I can explain my part—but you could be held for who knows what.—"

He knew she was right.
Ash volunteered to check on things. He figured he would just saunter past 214 and see if Dean was alone, or awake.

Ellen and Sam waited tensely for his return. In the meantime they discussed their options.—which were few.

"If they bring him in—we're screwed—" Sam mused. "With that murder charge alone—he won't be getting out on bail—even if we had the funds to cover it. And they'll be adding identity fraud, credit card fraud—you name it.
Then they'd transfer him out of state to be arraigned. We just can't let that happen."

" I may be wrong," Ellen added—" but I don't think they'd move him until he's officially released from the hospital. They don't have medical facilities or any kind of infirmary at the station here.
If that's the case we only have a short window of opportunity to somehow get him out of here—a day or two at best. And then what?'

Sam's mind was a whirl. "They'd go straight to the roadhouse first—there's no way we could hide there--and we can't put you and Ash in that position. Right now you are not connected to us in any way other than the incident, and we have to keep it that way."

As much as Ellen wanted to keep them safe—she knew he was right—their whole world would be jeopardized by police scrutiny or charges,--and it wouldn't help the brothers in any way.
And even if they even managed to secret Dean out of the hospital under the nose of the police--they would have to find some other place to hide. Had to be somewhere habitable too—they couldn't put someone who had surgery mere hours ago in some cold, damp barn or out in the elements.
Not to mention the fact that Dean was hardly mobile.

Their discussion was cut short by Ash's return.

"So far so good—no cops posted there yet. But I heard Winchester as I passed them—so I think it's safe to assume they're here for him.
I couldn't stand there listening, so I didn't get anything else. What do you think we should--"

"Hang on—" Sam interrupted. "They're moving. Shit!"

Ellen held his arm. "It's too late now, Sam." she cautioned—" We have to wait and see if they are going to let him stay or if they're taking him now--"

Sam was so tense, he was on the verge of throwing up. He was having a hard time keeping rein on his rising panic. This was really bad for them.—all the circumstances were conspiring to sink them.

Ellen could see his panic.
"Take a deep breath, Sam. It's not lost yet. We need to think about this and plan some way to spring him if we can. But first we have to see what his situation is."
She took a kerchief out of her purse, wound her hair into a bun and tied the cloth over her hair. At least she looked a bit different.

"I'm going up there. --Stay here, Sam. Here—keep your head down and look like you're reading the paper. Ash,--try to see if you can get closer to any of them—maybe you can find out what the plan is. I'll be back in a little while—"

She took the stairs and was gone.
Ash wandered a little closer to the officers left standing in the lobby,--pretending to look for change for the coffee machine. He listened to see if he could catch any of their conversation. He took some change and bought a beverage, and settled in a chair nearer to the group.

Sam sat with his eyes on the paper—seeing only black squiggles on the pages. He had to check to make sure he didn't have it upside down. He tried hard not to vomit into it.

Ellen walked slowly up to Dean's door. No one was posted outside, but she could hear several officers in the room. 

She looked around furtively and then stood out of sight, listening.

She heard the distinct rattle and click of handcuffs. Damn!
They were reading Dean his rights.

Dean wasn't protesting. He was still shocked and bewildered—having been shaken awake out of a deep sleep—and he was trying to comprehend what the hell was happening.

The surgeon was there, and he was talking to the officers—making sure they understood that his patient, -regardless of the charges—was not in any shape to leave the hospital yet—transporting him today was out of the question.

They radioed that information and were advised to follow the recommendation of the doctor. He was to be guarded until he was deemed fit to travel.

Thank god for that, thought Ellen. Now they had time and a chance to do something.

The policemen discussed further details with their supervisor and the doctor, and then headed toward the door.
Ellen could hear they were coming, and she continued past the room nonchalantly, and made her way back to the lobby.

Making eye contact with Sam, she motioned for him to move into a nearby hallway, so they could speak without being watched.

"He's been arrested. But they are keeping him here until the surgeon allows him to be moved. They must have hand-cuffed him to the bed rail—I heard it but couldn't see. And he'll have someone posted by the door until he is released…"

Sam blanched. She thought he was going to faint. It had been easy to forget that he was himself just out of the hospital--she realized this was a lot of shock for him to handle.

"Come outside with me, Sam-" she said, guiding his elbow. She caught Ash's eye and he followed a few seconds later.

Once outside, they found a bench and sat down as they came to grips with the news. Sam covered his face with his hands. He couldn't think, he was so addled by fear.
"Oh my god, Ellen—What are we gonna do??"

She was shaken as well.
"I don't know, Sam. But we need to get back home so we can sit down and work this out.. Don't argue—I know you want to stay near him. But you can't help him while this place is crawling with police.
We have to let things settle down—and frankly—you need to get a grip on your panic. Ash—can you stay here and watch? We need to know when things quiet down and he has only the one guard. I'll leave my car with you—here's the keys."

Ash nodded and caught them. He had driven the impala, thinking Sam would want his own transportation.
Ellen and Sam drove it back to the roadhouse.

They spent the half hour trip without speaking, as they absorbed the gravity of this unwelcome turn of events.

Dean lay in stunned silence as his world fell apart in front of him.
His head throbbed --he tried to rub his eyes, —but he was reminded that his left hand was chained to the rail.
This was the last thing he expected when he was awakened abruptly, and he hardly had anything left to deal with this new nasty twist..

How the hell did they find out who he was??

He was too shocked to respond when they asked him if that was his name, and read him his rights. He couldn't believe it was happening--he just nodded dumbly.

His heart was racing—he felt like he was going to pass out.
This is it, he thought. --There's no way out of this. --I'm going to prison. --I'm screwed.


Now he started to panic. He shut his eyes and pressed his head back against the pillow—trying to catch his breath, --while sweat beaded and slid down his face. He shook uncontrollably, hyperventilating…
A nurse came in—checking on him, --a sharp expression of distaste creasing her features.
But she was professional, and taking one look at his distress—she called the doctor.

Dr. Bowman gave him a sedative. His job was to see this young man achieve some measure of recovery, --not to judge him. Leave that to the courts.
He was curious though. He'd spent enough time with this group of people—he'd have described them as quality. He stayed with Dean for a few moments.

Dean read his mind.

" I didn't kill anybody. --And it's too goddamn strange and complicated to explain…" He was still worked up, and his eyes brimmed.
" you should empty a few more of those needles. Save them the trouble—"

The doc sat down for a moment. He looked Dean in the eye.

"I know you're stronger than that, son. I don't know what went on in St Louis, and I can't help you with that. But I can help you get better so you can deal with it.
I think I can believe you if you say you're innocent—but it's just not my job to make that call. –But I won't let you out of here until you are strong enough to battle your case—that is my job. But you've got to help yourself, ok? --So no more of that kind of talk."
Dean nodded, and looked away. The doc gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and left him alone.

At least the doctor came to his aid. They were ready to haul his ass to jail, but he got his couple of days.
Not that it mattered.

As the sedative started to work, he thought miserably—
--wish that sonofabitch had better aim.