Chapter 11

Five days since their father had left.

Almost one whole week without so much as a word from him.

Dean had long since gotten through the anger he felt at his dad's leaving and was now heading straight for worry about him staying away for so long.

He did realize that his dad must have been in contact with the hospital somehow, they never questioned Sammy staying with him through day and night, never questioned why he didn't go to school or why nobody came to pick him up so he could sleep at home. Dean was pretty sure that his dad had worked something out, as usual, charming the nurses and doctors into believing whatever insane story he had been cooking up to explain it all.

No one ever even asked where their dad had gone to and that alone said it all, really. Not that Dean cared, much, at first. He told the day-nurses that his dad had to get back to work, he'd come by later that day, told the night-nurse that his dad had to get back to work just a couple of minutes ago and would be around again in the morning…it had worked this way on the few occasions they had been left at a hospital before, it would work again now.

Only that now he cold see it in their eyes, he could see that they felt sorry for him and he really, really hated that. They had no idea about their lives, whatever they had to deal with on a daily basis. This really wasn't all that bad…at least they had food and a place to stay. They'd been in worse situations before.

He had done his best, which might not have been an awful lot, he would be the first to admit that, but still…he thought he would go crazy, lying in that bed, feeling so damn weak and sleepy all the time. And when the sleepiness finally would subside he felt rotten all over. So those were his options and while he didn't like either of them he soon realized that with him and Sammy being on their own now, again, he'd have to make a choice. He couldn't risk missing something, anything, loosing Sammy out of his sight because he didn't have himself under control. He needed to be up for his duty – watching out for Sam, making sure he was safe.

So, while being in constant pain didn't seem like a very desirable option under normal circumstances it had to make do for now. He had talked to Dr. Parker, persuaded him to cut down on his pain-medication a little and the doctor had reluctantly agreed to it. Which of course earned him more and even closer scrutinizing visits from the nurses in the beginning, but again…no way around it so he might as well accept it.

Of course he hadn't filled Sam in on his plan of action, there would have been hell to pay. He knew that Sammy suspected something though, those eyes really did not fare too well with hiding emotions, but Dean chose to ignore it for now.

The only thing that really got Sam going was the matter of Dean's appetite. Which was, frankly, non-existent. It took him days to get past the immediate urge to throw up whenever something even closely resembling food was set in front of him and he could barely make himself eat a few bites before pushing the plate away.

Part of it might have been his near inability to hold the damn fork in the stiff fingers of his left hand without dropping the painfully forked up food at least a couple of times before it finally made it past his lips. Bus still – no way he was going to let Sam help him with that. He felt the constant stares his little brother sent his way, his sympathetic brown eyes boring into him, and sometimes it made him want to throw the whole damn tray his way, but of course he didn't. Sammy only meant well, worried, cared about him. After everything they'd been through he had every right to do so.

"You need to eat Dean, get your strength back…" Sam always spoke to him in this cautious, low tone lately. As if fearing to scare him, damage him when speaking up.

"Just not hungry, Sammy." And he always answered back in this defiant, slightly annoyed voice, which drove him crazy, because he really didn't mean it. He just got so restless and impatient, with himself, mostly, he simply couldn't help it.

Sam again chewed on his lower lip, apparently working up the courage to say something, trying to think of a way to do this without starting an argument but getting his way nonetheless.

"Look, I'm trying, OK. It's not like I didn't eat at all, just can't much more down right now…Leaves more for you, right? You're always hungry anyway…" he shot him his lets-make-up-again grin, musing over how many times he had needed to do that in the past days, unable to keep his temper in check to avoid having to do it altogether.

"Look, you think you could close the door so I can go to the bathroom without flashing someone?"

He shot Sam a smirk, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"You want me to get a nurse in to help you?"

Now did Dean just imagine it or was there a tiny hint of humour in his words, hidden way back but still…the first in well over a week.

"Nah, I'm good. Besides, we don't want to get them all nervous, right? They get far too excited over who gets to wash me in the morning already."

That finally got a big grin (plus an exaggerated eye-roll) out of his little brother and wasn't that just worth it?!

Dean pushed the tray of offending food aside and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sam had moved over to his side, not touching him but being close by to steady him in case he needed it. They'd gotten some practice in this in the last to days, since Dean had stubbornly refused to, well, go to the bathroom through a damn tube anymore.

Dean put his bare feet on the ground. Actually they were not really bare since both were bandaged from the cuts he had received from walking through the forest and the right ankle was still encumbered in that brace. He kept his back painfully straight to keep his ribs from jarring each other, head down and breathing calmly and steadily. It took less and less time until his head stopped spinning at the motion, still some minutes but hey, still better. Dean found himself holding onto the rack that his IV was attached to, saw Sam arrange the tubes around a hook there so he wouldn't trip over them.

When he thought he was considerably focused, the vertigo under control for now he eased himself out of the bed, putting his weight first on his left foot, then putting his right one down as well, wincing as his ankle protested the stress that was put on it. Sam shifted the IV-rack to his right side, he always mixed them up it seemed, then handed him the crutch he was supposed to use to relive the strain, even though it was darn hard to move with all the equipment he had to carry with him.

Sammy moved against his right side and he automatically put his right arm over his little brother's shoulder, the cast still heavy up to his elbow, encasing his first three fingers as well and leaving only his pinkie and ring-finger free. He put as little weight as possible on his little brother, just needed him to keep his balance, really, or so he told himself. Like that they made it across the room to the little bathroom in the corner and while Dean was sure that Sam would have followed him in there, no questions asked, he was able to prevent this last tiny bit of dignity from slipping through his fingers and sent him away to do this one private business by himself.

When he was back in bed again, hours later it seemed, he felt like he'd just been running a marathon, he was so spent. Two weeks ago he'd been fit enough to actually run a marathon, come to think of it, but hey, you had to deal the cards you had in your hand at the moment, their dad had taught them that much. He'd get better, get his body to cooperate again, kick butts again. It would just take some more time, but he'd get there eventually.

The nurses and even Dr. Parker didn't tire of telling them how great he was doing, really, that few people would be up and about the way he was right now, would have had the strength to get through this at all, let alone this pace. And while he still didn't quite believe them, still felt the urge to push himself further and curse himself for not being stronger, he thought that maybe they were right. Maybe he should really appreciate all that he could do already just a little more. After all, there had been the immediate chance of him loosing some vital organs, if not his damn life. He should be thankful, after all, for all the training their dad had forced on them all these years. Who knew what would have become of him otherwise.

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

The physiotherapist came in about an hour later and even though Dean was still thoroughly spent from his earlier visit to the bathroom he pushed past the exhaustion and reluctance to let that damn drill instructor move his limbs in seemingly impossible ways, make him move in ways NO body was meant to move, period.

At least he got to send Sammy away for those sessions. Not that he felt comfortable to let his little brother out of his sight, but Dean had to admit that the kid had to be bored out of his wits by now. Spending days on end in a hospital room, nothing to do but worry, not able to go anywhere, not even watch TV at first for the noise and fast moving pictures would drive Dean insane with headache and nausea. It had gotten better now, they watched a couple of shows during the day and Dean actually found himself enjoying them, too, but still. It had to be pretty boring, no matter how you looked at it.

So he sent him away, and if it was just for those 30 minutes of his official torture, to go down to the cafeteria, grab some magazines, whatever. He just needed to make sure to be back in time because Sam knew that Dean would come after him if he didn't, injuries be damned.

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

Sam was awakened by a slight rustle from the bed, a low moan, rapid breathing. He was awake almost instantly, sitting up in his scratchy chair, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Waiting.

The light in the room was dimmed down yet not completely turned off, Sam always made sure of that. He didn't want Dean to panic when waking up so he accepted the fact that he wouldn't sleep too deeply himself in order to make it easier on his brother. For a couple of minutes the room stayed quiet and he was just about to settle back down, as much as his uncomfortable resting place would allow, when there was another sound from the bed. A strangled murmur, choked breathing. Then a low whimper and at that sound Sam pushed himself up in one fluid motion and was at his brother's side in an instant.

They'd been through this at least a couple of times during the past two nights and Sam ought to have gotten used to it by now. Somehow it didn't work that way.

Dean lay curled on his side, IV in a tangle, his left hand grabbing the sheets in a death grip. He was definitely asleep, but his eyes were squeezed shut in obvious distress, deep lines furrowing his brows, lips slightly agape and moving soundlessly. He shifted restlessly, digging his face into the sweat soaked pillow, some stray words making it past his lips, but Sam couldn't make them out. Just like those times before.

Sam slumped down in the chair next to the bed, his second home for an eternity now, resigned himself to do nothing but watch. Because he knew that waking Dean up from this nightmare would leave his brother completely at a loss, utterly panicked and so freaking vulnerable that Sam didn't think he would be able to take that look in his eyes again. He had found out the hard way during the first nightmare, had woken his brother up thinking that he was helping him in doing so and realizing too late that it only served to freak his brother out even more.

That look of utter lost and pain and…fear, seconds only before Dean had been able to shut it out again, was enough to sent Sam's teeth chattering.

It had become a sad routine now, him sitting there watching Dean reliving whatever terror he had gone through, lost in his own dreams. The only thing he could do was to try to offer him what little comfort he could by staying close, holding on to him when his movements got too frantic, making sure his brother knew he wasn't in this alone.

Sure enough, after about an hour of tossing and turning in his somewhat limited movements, Dean finally settled down again, his breathing evening out, muscles gradually loosening and this deep frown that had been plastered onto his face smoothed out once again.

Sam took a deep breath of relief, detached his hand from his brothers arm, flexing his own stiffened fingers to get the blood back in circulation again. He had to admit that this freaked him out – big time. Dean having these intense nightmares but of course not letting on about what was bothering him when Sam tried to talk to him about it.

Of course it had to do with what happened, but his brother still claimed that he didn't remember. So all he could do was wait and see.

He knew that their dad's leaving had shaken Dean more than he would admit. For all the blind faith and devotion Dean had in their dad, this act now had been pretty severe, even he could not have been able to overlook that. Leaving his sons to fend for themselves was pretty hard under normal circumstances, but with Dean's condition the way it had been, still was… It just wasn't fair, no way, that John would put that kind of responsibility on either one of them.

Since it was Dean's job to take care of Sam, always had been that way, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that Dean would not, under any circumstances, tell him how he felt about it. No way. His big brother still had this stubborn opinion that he needed protection from everything, that he, Sam, could come out and tell his brother whatever was bothering him, always, but no way was it going to work the other way around.

Screw dad. Seriously. Screw him for laying this crap on them. They'd have to set things straight after he returned.

Yeah, right. That would be a first.

Sam sighed again, got up. After making certain that Dean was indeed back to deep and undisturbed sleep, Sam repositioned himself on the stuffed chair, draping his legs over the armrest to catch a little more sleep himself. He'd try talking to his brother again in the morning…not that it would resolve anything, just making sure that Dean knew he wouldn't get off that easy.

Just so he knew someone cared.

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

Dean got the distinct impression that Sammy had something on his mind the next morning. The kid was uncharacteristically jittery, avoiding direct eye-contact only to stare at him whenever he thought Dean didn't see it.

He had a feeling that maybe, just maybe Sammy knew about those nightmares that were plaguing him. Even though he could barely remember them himself. They were highly disturbing, that much he knew. Plus they felt so damn real. Lately, though, he didn't seem to wake from them in a cold, panicky sweat anymore and while he couldn't explain it he didn't really feel like getting to the bottom of it. It felt like something was there, with him, in his dreams, to make it all better. At least in his dreams he didn't fell this utter loneliness anymore, not like back then, when it all happened.

Dean debated whether or not he should ask Sammy about it, ask him if he knew. But then he figured that there were more important matters to discuss right now. Something that lay heavily on his mind for some time now, the past couple of days at the least. He decided to take it one after the other and go for this topic first.

"Sammy, we need to talk…" unconsciously repeating the same words his dad had said to him back then. Of course, Sammy didn't know that.

The kid's eyes shot over at him, looking directly at his big brother for the first time today.

"Come over here, will 'ya." Dean patted the bed at his left, indicating for Sammy to sit while carefully shuffling over a bit to make space for his baby brother.

Sam came over reluctantly, climbed onto the bed next to his brother's legs, back resting against the footboard, drawing one leg up to hold on to it – a shield between them, just to make sure.

Dean sat pretty much upright, cradled his right arm against his abdomen while unconsciously starting to pick at the edges of the cast, trying to figure out how to start this. Damn, this was harder than he had thought it would be – definitely harder than it had been in the past.

"It's been six days now…"

No need to say more than that really, and he looked up from under his lashes to check his little brother's reaction. Sam looked at him wide eyed. He didn't seem to have expected that. Dean again looked down and away, continued the abuse on his cast.

"You know…we gotta figure out our next move soon."

He felt the shift of the mattress as Sam moved to draw the other knee up towards his chest, hiding the lower half of his face behind them, clearly nibbling at his lower lip in distress.

"Sam, you know the drill, right? It's been almost a week…"

"But he stayed away longer than that before…" small and defiant at the same time, how the hell did Sam manage to make his voice sound like that?

"Yeah, I know…but this here…I don't know. Did he leave any instructions with you?"

Sam shook his head, looked at Dean now, right at him as if hanging on his every word. Trusting him to do the right thing, make the right decision. For both of them. This was just crap…he needed all his strength to just go to the freaking bathroom by himself, eat a bowl of soup without throwing up. How the hell should he find the strength to make such an important decision right now?

Dean settled his head back against the pillow, blew out a laboured breath.

"OK, I know this sucks. Out loud. But…dad has been gone for almost a week now and you know that sooner or later someone will wonder. We were lucky enough that nothing came up so far. And since we don't have a clue as to when he'll be back…I don't know, I just don't think that we should stay here much longer. You know what will happen if someone finds out that he is not just at work."

Yeah, they both knew what would happen. As soon as anyone got even the slightest hint of their dad being gone, child support would be there in a heartbeat. And they both knew what that meant. It had almost happened once, years ago, when a neighbour had complained to the police about the two boys next door apparently being left alone for over a week now. Their dad had been on a hunt, had been injured and in the hospital some states away. They hadn't known. Dean didn't have a licence back then, still too young, so as soon as they had found out about the neighbours plan to turn them over to child support, they had bolted, in the middle of the night, travelled some endless miles on foot and by bus to make it to Pastor Jim's before anyone found them. It had been a very close call. Dean knew that should the authorities get a hold of them they'd be turned over to foster families, separated for sure. He could not let that happen, no way. Over his dead body.

Problem was, how were they going to get out of this now? Even though Dean highly doubted he'd be able to, he'd still risk trying to run for it, no questions asked. If it meant staying together he'd take the pain and just do it…try to do it, anyway. Then again, how were they going to get away?

"Where's the car?"

Sam looked at him with wide eyes.

"Dean, what the…what do you want to do? There is no way you can drive…besides, they won't release you for some time yet!"

"Sam, where is the car? Nothing happened to her, right? You told me that she was OK!"

"Yeah, Dean, the car is OK. Dad found it at the school's parking lot, drove her back to the motel. But there is no way…you are in no condition to drive. And where exactly would we go? I can't take care of you, not like this. What if something happens…what if this thing, whatever it was that did that to you, what if it comes back? How am I going to protect you…?"

Dean couldn't help but stare at his little brother in shock. When the hell did that happen? When exactly had their roles been reversed?

"You don't need to take care of me, alright? I'm fine, Sammy, we'll be fine. There is no reason to get all emo over this. I'm the big brother, and I'll figure something out…I'll just…I'll just need to think, OK? There has got to be a way. I don't want to loose you, alright? Not after everything…there is no way I'm going to risk loosing you on top of everything. Not after dad…"

OK, so maybe he had taken this a little bit too far just now. Dean stopped his tirade, breathing deeply a couple of times, looking anywhere but straight ahead, anywhere but at Sam. He willed the tears that he felt forming to push back again. No, this couldn't be happening, not here, not in front of Sammy. He needed to be strong, for both of them. The one thing his dad expected him to do, the one thing he trusted him with. He couldn't mess this up. What the hell, that must still be the drugs fogging his brain, him breaking apart like that.

"Dean…" Sam's small voice again, the teary one, too. Always most effective.

Dean realized that he had closed his eyes, for how long he didn't know, so he pulled himself together. He had to stop scaring his brother like that.

"Sammy, no I'm fine. Really. Sorry, I was just…I'm worried too, you know. About dad, about us. But we need to figure out what to do. And we need to be quick about it. Better safe than sorry, right?"

He flashed one of his best smiles, one that would get Sam to smile back eventually. Try as he might, the kid would not be able to resist that smile. Too many had tried before and failed miserably. It always got him his way – just ask the ladies…

Sure enough, Sammy did smile back eventually, maybe not as brightly as Dean had hoped, but it was a start. Get back in the game.

"OK, so if we can't get away by ourselves, we got to get help. Not too many choices there…who should we call, then?"

Sam thought about that. Sadly, there really weren't all that many choices to consider.

"What about Pastor Jim?"

That had been Dean's first thought too, but to be honest, he didn't really know how far away they were, how fast he could be here. Caleb was out of the question, too. Probably even farther away than Jim. That left them with only one choice, really, and one that Dean didn't think as the worst one at all. On the contrary.

Bobby.

As far as he knew they were only a couple of hours away from the seasoned hunter. Dean had always liked Bobby, too, he had taken care of them plenty of times already, had come to the rescue one more than one occasion in the past. Behind all that rough exterior Bobby really had the softest heart, especially when it came to the Winchester boys, loved them like he would love his own sons. Dean knew that and he also knew that Bobby would come and get them, no matter where he was at the moment.

"Bobby, I think we should call Bobby…you still got his number, right?" Bobby's number was one of the first they had to memorize, right after their dad's. Sam nodded.

"OK, so, I think it's best you go and give him a call, tell him…tell him what happened, you know. Just the basics. Tell him we need uncle Bobby to come to the rescue, get us out of here as soon as possible. And Sammy…don't forget to tell him our name…you know, the current one…and while you're at it…Sammy, tell him to hurry…"

tbc

AN:

Ok, so first off I got to say…I just last week finally bought the season 3 DVD of Supernatural. To understand my excitement you probably got to know that in my home country they just started airing season two, which is highly frustrating, I can tell you.

Of course I already had season two for a while now and thank god amazon offered the next one so I finally get to watch it…and I got to tell you, I think it's awesome. I just now watched "A very supernatural Christmas" and while it sure was a little bit disgusting I still think it was awesome and really, really cute, too.

Is it my imagination or is this season even funnier than the first two? Ah well, for you this is all old stories, but I'm just so excited so I thought I needed to share a bit of it!

Secondly, I again got to tell you how much I appreciate every single review and I hope you'll stick with me to the end of my little story. Which turned out to be a lot longer than I had originally intended, but there were just so many things that came up along the way…it'll probably be two more chapters after this.

Ok, I stop my ramblings now…I'm in bed with fever so you got to forgive me if I don't make much sense right now! But no worries, the story was finished before the fever struck – unfortunately any weird parts in the story emanate from my "healthy" brain…whatever that says about me…

So, as always, please let me know what you think…I'll update soon!