Chapter Eleven

Sam awoke with a white light completely blinding him. He blinked rapidly to clear to adjust his eyes and looked around his hospital room. His memory was a little bit hazy, but he knew that he should be worried about something. He searched his brain, trying to remember. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks, he remembered everything that had happened the previous evening; or had he been out longer than that? He reached for the button to call the nurse and pressed it frantically. Immediately, a nurse bounced into the room, she looked at him, smiling broadly. "Good morning Mr. Adams! It's wonderful to see you awake." She walked up next to him and put a stethoscope to his chest. "How are you feeling?"

Sam just stared at her, Mr. Adams? "Um, I kind of feel like I got run over by a truck filled with elephants." Still wondering about the name, he thought for a moment, then vaguely recalled putting false ids' in everyone's pockets. He grinned a little, that had certainly thrown him for a loop. He turned to the nurse and continued, "But I'm very concerned about my brother and sister. Are they okay?"

The nurse's smile faded a bit. "Right, of course. They'll be okay, sir, but they're still in pretty bad shape right now. It was hit and miss with your sister for a while, but she pulled through. She's still unconscious however. Your brother woke up yesterday morning, and has been hollering to come see you ever since." Her grin returned. "The doctor told him that he had to stay in bed right now. But that we'll send a wheelchair around when you woke up."

Sam laughed a bit, and then hunched forward as pain rippled through his chest. 'That definitely sounds like Dean. I imagine he didn't take to the idea of the wheelchair too well."

She giggled, "No he certainly didn't. Said that if the doctor tried to get him in it, he'd bash him over the head with the wheelchair." She checked his temperature, and scribbled on her chart. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some other patients to see. Then I'll send your brother in."

Sam was beyond relieved that Delia and Dean were alright. At the time of the attack, he hadn't thought that either of them would make it. Last night, they had really looked bad. Damn, he needed to find out what day it was, he'd forgotten to ask in his haste to check on the other two. He heard a knock at the door, and looked up. Dean walked, or rather limped, in. Sam grinned, "I see the doctor didn't force you into the wheelchair."

Dean approached the bed and sat down in the chair beside it. "No, he was sufficiently scared by my threat. He didn't suggest it again. Now, seriously Sam, are you okay? You've had me worried."

"Well, I feel like hell, but I'll survive. What day is it?"

"It's Thursday. The, um, accident was three days ago."

Sam looked stunned, "Really? I was out for that long? God! I understand that Delia almost didn't make it."

Dean nodded gravely, "According to the doctor, they had to resuscitate her when we first got here. Then they almost lost her again last night. But they think she'll be okay at this point. They took her up for one last surgery right after I woke up."

Sam continued to look worried. "What are we going to do? We have to go find dad. But we can't exactly leave Delia here. I mean, that one vamp knew her, she might be our only hoping of finding him."

"Yeah, if dad's not already dead."

"Don't think I hadn't considered that, but we still have to try."

"I know we do. We'll see what the doctor has to say about Delia, and then we'll decide. But we might just have to wait for her to be released and hope for the best." Sam nodded, although he didn't particularly like the idea. The boys were much occupied for the rest of that morning. They attempted to talk about strategy and how to find the vamps; but doctors and nurses kept interrupting. Eventually, they gave up, and just sat in relative silence. At one point, a nurse suggested that Dean go back to his own room. Dean threw her a look so venomous that she immediately backed out of the room; they hadn't seen her since.

It seemed like days had passed before the doctor came rushing in the room, and exclaimed, "Your sister is conscious." Dean's face broke into a wide grin and he turned to Sam. Sam leaped out of his bed, and then fell against Dean wincing, "That might have been a bad idea." The doctor took Sam by the arm and gently led him to a wheelchair, "Take it easy son, you're more injured than I think you realize." Dean nudged the doctor out of his way, insisting on pushing Sam himself. Apparently, this was the same doctor that Dean had threatened earlier, because he just frowned and stepped aside, muttering "You'll regret this stubbornness when you can hardly walk tomorrow."

Entering Delia's room, the boys' jaws dropped. She was bandaged all over, neck, arms, leg. Her face was covered in purple and black bruises. One eye was nearly swollen shut; she tried to sit up and winced with the effort. Sam leaned over in his chair and took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

She tried to grin, but grimace again. "Probably about the same way I look. Which I assume is like hell." Dean's smirk was answer enough. "So when are we leaving?"

Dean sat down on the other side of her bed, leaning forward, his hands in a fist in front of him. "I don't think you're going anywhere, not any time soon at least."

"I want Tony's ass on a silver platter! I will be leaving just as soon as I can walk on my own. Where's John?"

Sam frowned, and Dean answered for him. 'Well, at least you're calling him by his name now, instead of a string of curses. So, that's an improvement." He furrowed his brow and swallowed hard before continuing, "The vamps took him."

She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "They didn't kill him did they?"

Sam cleared his throat. "We don't think so. Tony said something about keeping him as bait. You really don't remember any of this?"

She pulled her hand away from him and folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. "I really don't. And of course Tonty did that. It's exactly his style. Damn it! How did I not see this?"

Dean looked at her, "What? How could you have known? You haven't seen him since he was turned right?"

She shook her head again. "That's no excuse. I should have noticed that he was different. Like, always calling me in the middle of the night. And never wanting me to see him, because he knew that if we were in the same room I'd immediately sense the vamp powers." Delia looked disgusted. "I am so sorry. This is all my fault." Her lip quivered and she hung her head, crying silently.

Sam stroked her hair a bit. "No it isn't. We insisted on coming with you. This is not your fault." Dean nodded in agreement.

"Say whatever you like. It was still me fault. Look, we need to get out of here quickly. Otherwise, John might not be alive when we find him."