A.N. Coo, you lot are harsh! And I thought I'd apologised ever so nicely! ;p

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

o-o-o

Having found nothing in the room's counter top fridge other than a six pack, Dean soon found himself being dragged on a shopping trip by Carla. Leaving Sam in peace to dig into the background of Lockwood and the unmarked graves. An hour later, Carla walked back into the room followed by a harassed looking Dean.

"Dean Winchester, you should eat more healthily. Lemon pie is not healthy, and...At what point exactly were M&M's re-designated a food item? You are going eat proper food today, and that's final! It's the least I can do."

"Sam! Tell her!"

"Sam...Stay out of this. Dean, go help your brother. Lunch will be ready in around thirty minutes."

Ignoring the sulky look on Dean's face, Carla happily headed into the kitchenette. Dean plonked himself down next to Sam, scowling at the look of amusement on his younger brother's face.

"Did the pair of you have fun?"

"I swear, the woman has to be a witch...Or a demon! We should test her...Find anything useful whilst I was being towed around a store by the she devil?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, I can tell you that the paper chase on Tights Wearing Tony showed he's no longer with us. He was still a patient at Lockwood when they were being shipped out to community based accommodation. He moved from Ward 25 to a transition unit within Lockwood. After six months, he was put with two other ex-patients into community housing. Looks like he hit the booze as soon as he started getting his state benefit. Died of a head injury in 1997. Apparently he got into an argument outside a bar. Coroner told the Court that the other guy hit Tony once, and Tony managed to crack the back of his skull open as he hit the floor."

"One hit? And he died?"

"Like I said, it was actually how his head hit the floor that killed him."

"So, he stays on the list?...What about Simple Simon?"

"He was never released. They transferred him to a secure hospital. He died one lunch time when a new guy with Paranoid Schizophrenia stabbed Simon through the eye with his spoon handle."

"Gross!...And old Clive?"

"Died on Ward 25 of pneumonia age 81, still never having spoken a word."

"Poor bastard! So we can't wipe any one of this lot off the list of potentials. I know I'm goin' to regret this, but, do we know what happened to the bodies?"

...

"You two? Enough of all that. And Dean...No swearing! Go wash your hands...Now!"

At the sudden interruption from Carla, Dean and Sam looked at one another.

"I said...Now!"

Dean frowned.

"You feelin' ok Carla?"

Carla stopped slicing the salad tomatoes long enough to give Dean a curious look, then return to her task.

"Why're you asking me that Dean? Do you think there's something wrong with me? Hmm? Because really, I don't see how it's any of your Goddamn business."

Sam stood up, and signalled to Dean to let him deal with this.

"Come on Dean. Carla told us to go wash our hands."

"Oh...Yeah."

Carla added the tomatoes into the bowl of salad, at the same time giving Sam a smile.

"Thank you Sam."

Sam gave Dean a nod of his head in the direction of the bathroom, whilst he himself put both hands in his jeans pockets and casually strolled across to Carla. Dean took his time about getting up from the table, carefully taking his jacket off and hanging it on the back of his chair, then searching for something in the pockets; all the while surreptitiously glancing towards Sam.

Sam looked at the salad and smiled.

"That looks great Carla. Say...Why don't you let me give you a hand? You've had a He...ck of a morning, I'm guessing you must be tired?"

"Why? Why must I?"

"Well...It's just...You seem to be kinda on edge and, well, you were a little sharp with Dean..."

Carla nodded slowly.

"A little sharp?...Yes, I suppose so...Sort of like this knife..."

Carla's movements were a blur, and Dean watched in horror as Sam sank to the floor on one knee.

...

Automatically hurrying towards Sam, Dean found himself facing Carla as she quickly stepped forward, blocking Sam from Dean's view. Bringing the knife up, she stood ready to strike at Dean.

"You didn't wash your hands. You really shouldn't defy me son, you will learn sweet lips."

"Get away from my brother!"

Carla's eye's burned with fury.

"Don't answer me back, boy. Ever!"

Dean found himself having to keep moving backwards out of the way as Carla ran at him, slashing the knife through the air, trying to reach him. There was movement and a groan from behind her, and suddenly it was raining salad down on her as Sam threw the contents of the salad bowl over Carla's head. Carla swung around.

"How..Dare..You!"

Dean didn't hesitate, he threw himself onto Carla's back, dragging her down to the floor on top of him, grabbing both her arms and pinning them against her side whilst she writhed and struggled against his restraining hold. With supreme effort on his part, Sam closed in on her and pulled back his fist.

...

Dean lay on his back panting for air, underneath the unconscious Carla. Gracefully, both Sam's knees now gave way and he dropped, finding himself sat on the floor. Shoving Carla's limp body off himself, Dean crawled on hands and knees to Sam's side, desperate to know the location of his younger brother's injury. It wasn't hard to spot. Sam was holding his arm across the area, just under his ribs on his left side, and Dean could see the edges of the red staining to Sam's tee. Lifting his head, Sam briefly met Dean's worried gaze.

"M'ok. Tie her up or summin', 'case she wakes."

"I will, gotta check you first."

Sam shook his head.

"Not goin' anywhere. Not sure how hard I hit her. See to Carla."

Reluctantly, Dean nodded.

"Ok."

...

Being as thoughtful as he was able, Dean soon had Carla cuffed and tied down on the room's only armchair which he hurriedly surrounded by a circle of salt whilst Carla was still out cold. That done, he swiftly turned his attention back to Sam who was now laid on the floor, still clutching at his wound. Grabbing their med kit, a towel and a cushion, he knelt down at his brother's side.

"Here...Lift your head."

Dean popped the cushion under Sam's head, then focused on the wound.

"Ok Sammy. You know the drill, let me see what we've got here."

...

Dean was relieved to see that there was one clean puncture wound, the knife had been shoved in, and pulled out again without pause. There was no tearing, no slicing. What mattered now was how deep had the knife gone and what, if anything, had it hit?

"Dean? Dean...What's...happening? Dean, Sam...Please, I'm scared...Why am I tied up?...DEAN! Don't you ignore me you ignorant punk piece of shit. How dare you?"

"Did you just hear something Sammy?"

"N...No."

"Me neither...Ok little brother, I'm gonna clean the area first. You ready?"

"No...But you better do it anyway."

The Holy water wash out hit, and Sam cried out as his hand squeezed tightly around his brother's, crushing Dean's fingers. Dean said nothing, pouring another lot of water onto the wound, feeling the circulation to his fingers blocked off once more.

"Phew! Sounds like a whole lotta hurt goin' off. Do that to him again Deanie! I wanna see that again!"

Extracting his hand out of Sam's, Dean poured the remaining Holy water over his own hands, shaking the excess off.

"Alright baby brother, I need to see how deep this goes, check the damage, ok?"

Eyes closed, Sam shook his head.

"When is someone else poking their finger inside you ever ok?"

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Weeell..."

Sam stared at his brother.

"Really!"

"Hey morons, get on with the show! Make that little brother screeamm Deanie, I'm waaai-tinnn'!"

"Scuse me a mo' Sammy."

...

"Right...Where were we? Oh, yeah...Poking..."

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A.N. Whoops! :D