Disclaimer: I own nothing. My garage is barren, no '67 Chevy Impala. Santa is on my shit list now, my 12 gauge is loaded. My hubby added to my Impala fund to try an ease my pain…it helped somewhat.
A special thank you to WinJennster, for the ant story….hysterical and inspiring!
Hours later, John was headed away from his boys, the cold, and his decade long standoff with Alice. He had a job lined up in Florida, he had debated pawning it out on someone else, but he knew that someone would call him if Dean needed him. He wanted to keep working, constantly wondering if the next job would bring him closer to the demon that had killed his wife. He glanced in the rearview mirror, the lights from Alice's house burning brightly. He had written down his number and left it with Bobby; they could call him if they needed to. He needed to keep working.
Sam, Garth, and Jim had returned only an hour ago, giving John an opportunity to meet the young men who had helped to find Alice, Dean, and the Manitou. As Sam watched John's taillights disappear, he couldn't help but be a little angry. He knew John was driven to work, and deep down he knew that the longer he and John were forced to share close quarters it was more likely that they would want to kill each other. That would have been the last thing Dean needed to hear or see. Sam walked to the bedroom and checked on Dean, he had been deep asleep since Sam had gotten back to the house. He watched from the doorway; Dean was restless, his arms and legs twitching as he tossed his head back and forth. He coughed occasionally, making Sam angry at Dean for choosing to spend time out in the snow and wind. Sam walked into the room and laid a hand on Dean's forehead, an act that would have earned him a swat on a normal day. Dean's head was hot, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Sam sighed and got a wet washcloth, gently wiping his face. Dean didn't even open his eyes, just rolled away from the cold cloth; putting his back towards Sam.
Bobby watched as Sam walked into the kitchen, making a beeline for Jim. "He's fevered again," Sam said. "Is he getting any better?"
Jim sat back from the card game he and Garth had started. "It doesn't help that he keeps going outside. The wind and snow are not the conditions he needs right now. If it was anybody else, I would have dragged them to a hospital by now, if only because they have the staff to enforce a treatment plan," Jim explained. "No hospital will be able to take into consideration what he's been through; they will more than likely make him worse psychologically."
"What do you mean 'enforce', like making him stay in bed and forcing him to take his meds," Sam asked.
"I was referring to the fact that a hospital has non-stop staff," Jim said. "I'm not suggesting we treat him against his will."
Sam sat down and folded his hands in front of him. "Could we," Sam asked sternly.
"Sam, that is some territory you don't want to go down," Bobby warned. "You start that; he'll lose trust in you, in all of us. That won't help him in the long run."
"Bobby, we have to do something. He won't even stay still long enough to finish a single bag of the antibiotics, when's the last time anyone but him got a look at his stitches," Sam stated. "He's got bruises he hasn't let anyone see. We need to do something."
"You already did," a voice said from the hallway. Everyone turned and looked at Dean, his fevered, shaking form standing in the dim hallway. He was holding the doorframe with one hand, his stance casual but Sam knew that without holding on, he would have been on the floor. "You found me. It's just too bad I was so broken. Humpty dumpty, right?"
Sam looked at Bobby, exchanging a look of confusion. "Dean, how you feeling man," Jim called out. "You look a little wobbly."
Dean was in fact wavering on his feet, his eyes closing and opening slowly, trying to focus on Jim from across the room. "My room is to hot," Dean complained. "I thought I'd step outside and cool off for a bit."
"It's a little to cold for a trip outside right now Dean," Sam said, trying to deter Dean but not wanting to make his stubbornness kick in full force. "Maybe later."
"It'll just take a second," Dean argued, he tried to take a step towards the door, his legs shaking.
"Dean, there's a pack of mutated ants outside, big as cars, we're waiting til morning to go kill them," Alice said plainly without looking up from the journal she was writing in. "Sit tight buddy."
Dean looked from Alice to Sam and nodded slowly, his face fearful. "Fine, guess I'll go back to bed."
As they heard Dean shuffling down the hallway, everyone turned and looked at Alice. Bobby gave her a look of bewilderment and said, "What the hell was that about?"
"He's obviously delirious," Alice said without looking up. "Fever's on the rise. As a kid he was scared of ants, something about getting covered in them once when Sam filled his bed with candy wrappers, figured maybe that would get his mind off of going outside. It worked what more do you want?"
Jim walked into the Dean's room, Sam trailing behind him. Dean was sitting up in the bed, the pillows on the floor and the blankets pulled up over his head. "Dean, what are you doing," Sam asked as he peeked under the blankets. Dean put a finger to his lips, motioning him to be quiet and whispered, "Ants."
Jim caught Sam's eye and motioned toward the bathroom. Jim began to fill the bathtub with lukewarm water, hoping that a bath would help to lower Dean's temperature. Sam nudged Dean into the bathroom, Dean still complaining about the giant mutant ants.
"I'll be down the hall if you need me," Jim said. "I want to check my bag for something for Dean."
Sam nodded and turned back to Dean, trying to get him stripped down to his boxers for a long soak in the bathtub. Five minutes and two soaking wet towels later, Dean was sitting in the tub shivering slightly. Sam sat on the floor and used a small cup to pour water on him shoulders.
"Sam, why are you doing this," Dean asked with his eyes closed, the water hypnotically rolling down his warm skin.
"You're fevered and it's cooking your brain," Sam explained as he poured more water onto Dean's back.
"How does this help with our ant infestation," Dean asked, puzzled.
"It doesn't really, but they can't get in. Besides, they don't like baths so you're safe at least," Sam said with a grin. He had rarely seen Dean experience delirium with such an aloof attitude. It was typically depressing, Dean only ever talking about the horrors they had seen.
They sat for an hour, Dean with his eyes closed while Sam poured water over him. Sam wondered if Dean had fallen asleep sitting in the tub when Dean suddenly asked, "Sam, why are you doing this?"
"It doesn't matter Dean, the mutated ants can't get in," Sam said tiredly.
"What are you talking about," Dean asked, sneaking a peek at Sam. "What mutated ants?"
Sam laughed and set the cup down. "Never mind, you were burning up so Jim and I got you in the tub," Sam explained. "Let's get you back in bed."
"Nah, I've been sleeping enough," Dean said with a yawn. "Dad still around?"
Sam shook his head as wrapped a towel around Dean's shoulders. "He left a few hours ago, said to call him if you needed anything," Sam stated.
Dean nodded, his face looking precariously close to disappointed. It had been months since John had been around, and although Dean enjoyed hunting away from under John's harsh and critical eye, he had secretly hoped John would stick around for a while.
Dean heaved himself out of the tub and grabbed the clothes Sam was holding out. "I'll be out in a few," Dean said, slamming the door shut between them. Sam headed for the kitchen, grabbing the feeding tube supplies and headed back into the bedroom. He had just finished laying out the sterile field when Dean stepped out of the bathroom, hesitating when he saw what Sam had in his hand.
"I don't even get a chance to try real food tonight, Sammy," Dean asked, folding his arms over his chest. "That seems kind of final."
Sam dropped his hands to his sides, surprised by Dean's remark. "You want to eat-real, solid food," he asked, surprise in his voice.
Dean gave him a look that said 'dumbass' and said, "I want to, yeah. If I can though, that's another story." Dean unknowingly laid a hand on his stomach, as though anticipating the outcome.
Sam smiled and dropped the feeding tube on the bed. "Let's go see what's for dinner," Sam said. "I think Garth was in charge of cooking tonight." Sam grabbed the IV bag of antibiotics and reattached it to the central line in Dean's hand. He held the bag out for Dean to carry, wondering if Dean remembered the conversation he interrupted in the kitchen earlier.
"You think he can cook," Dean asked with a cough. "He doesn't look like the domestic type."
Sam laughed and remarked, "I swear he eats nonstop, but he just stays the same. Let's hope he can cook, no one delivers out here."
They sat at the table, Bobby giving Dean a look of surprise. "Don't stare so hard Bobby, you might break something," Dean snarked with a smirk.
Bobby grinned and went back to watching Garth scramble around the kitchen. "What are you making Garth," Bobby asked. "You reputation is on the line."
Garth smiled, adjusting his floral apron and proudly said, "Burgers and fries. Make that awesome burgers and fries. "
Dean whistled and said, "I'll be the judge of what's awesome around here."
They gathered around the table and waited as Garth loaded plates and passed them around. Dean felt himself tense up as he looked at the huge amount of food Garth had piled on his plate. He felt the lump swell in his throat and his stomach flip flop. He caught Alice looking at him, her face concerned. He caught himself staring at her red hair, for a second he recognized her; a forgotten face from years ago. She locked eyes with him, questioningly as though she knew he was starting to remember her. He turned his attention back to the plate in front of him, wondering if it was a good idea. He wanted to prove to everyone, even himself, that he could do it. He took a glance around the table; everyone was eating, Jim and Garth talking about the snow storm heading in, Bobby and Alice talking about supplies. He picked up a french fry and slowly began to chew it; he remembered the salt and grease, all of the road side diners he, John and Sam had eaten in over the years. French fries were a good thing, a familiar thing. He swallowed it, the fry slowly sliding past the lump in the back of his throat. He noticed the corner of Sam's mouth tug into a small grin, trying to not directly stare as Dean began the slow process of dinner. Thirty minutes later, Dean had eaten six french fries, ignoring the large burger in front of him. Sam had already devoured two of his own and after watching Dean stare down the burger in front of him like it was Mount Everest, Sam took a knife to it; leaving a quarter of it on Dean's plate. He noticed the frown on Dean's face as he watched Sam lift the burger from the plate.
"I was going to eat that, bitch," Dean mumbled grumpily, even as he gave Sam a look of relief.
"Sure you were, jerk," Sam stated as he bit obnoxiously into the burger. "You can have the next one."
Dean scowled as he picked at the small piece of burger. He knew he needed to at least try to eat it, he carefully picked it up and tried to keep from smelling it, he could tell that Garth had made them slightly rare, a tinge of pink on the plate.
He felt his stomach twist as he sank his teeth into the small piece of burger, everyone suddenly looking at him. He felt himself begin to panic and glared at everyone, leaving no one unscathed. Everyone turned back to their own meals, the silence unsettling. Dean fought to swallow a small bite, the lump in his throat making him choke and gag. He looked around the table and grabbed the nearest glass, Bobby's. He was surprised when he got a large mouthful of whiskey; he choked as the warmth traveled through his chest, his throat burning. He continued to choke and sputter, taking a second mouthful of Bobby's whiskey, surprised when he realized that the burger had gone down and not come straight back up. He smiled in triumph and glanced around the table. Sam and Jim were exchanging a look of relief, Alice and Garth were smiling into their own plates, while Bobby proceeded to smack his hand and slide his glass back across the table.
"Idjit," Bobby said with a pleased grin. "The last thing you're getting is my whiskey. Sam, get your brother some water or something."
Sam jumped up and got Dean a glass of water, he sipped it for a few minutes, the water cold and sweet. He felt the whiskey continue to warm him throughout, he felt himself relax, his vision blurring; he wondered if he could actually get drunk off of what he would have normally considered a small amount. Sam was sitting across the table, wondering the same thing. He knew that Dean shouldn't have any alcohol, rule number one of taking antibiotics. Sam watched as Dean slowly chewed his way through another french fry while trying to pay attention to the multiple conversations going on around the table. Dean was slumping in the chair when he motioned to Jim and asked, "So how about it, doc? You think I need the tube tonight?"
Jim looked at Sam briefly before turning to Dean. He looked at Dean's plate and grimaced.
"Give it to me straight, you were hoping for more rabbit food, right?" Dean said, his head starting to nod slightly. "I can take it, just don't make Sammy cry." Dean gave a not-so-subtle wink to Jim, motioning to Sam.
Jim laughed lightly and said, "You did really good actually, although you are right-I was hoping for more of the rabbit food. If you're not against it, I think we still need to do the tube. But you're making progress."
"Good, cause I want my car keys at some point," Dean mumbled as he laid his head on the table, nearly landing on a fork. Bobby chuckled as they watched Dean's eyes slip closed momentarily before his head shot back up and he said, "I can hot wire it, I just need the distributor cap back."
Sam smirked and shook Dean's shoulder. "Don't fall asleep Dean. We still need to get your tube done for the night," Sam said. "Let's get you in to bed."
Dean cracked an eye open and asked, "Night cap?"
"Nope, just pillows, pajamas, and a feeding tube," Sam said as he slipped a hand under Dean's arm. Jim followed behind slowly and carried the IV bag as Sam led a wobbly Dean back to his room, each man wondering if Dean would stay awake for the feeding to be completed. Sam arranged Dean in an upright sitting position, head tilted back.
"Dean, if you fall asleep, I'd like to keep the feeding going until it's done. Are you okay with that," Jim asked as he coated the tube with the numbing gel. "I can pull the tube out when it's done."
"Fine," Dean said with a yawn. "Just watch where you stick that thing."
Sam grimaced as he watched Jim slide the tube down Dean's nose, although Dean seemed to either not notice or care. They watched as the gravity flow feed started, Jim watching the clock. "Sam, try to talk to him and keep him awake would you," Jim asked. "It's not a huge deal if he falls asleep, but it would be easier to pull the tube while he's awake."
"So, how was your chat with dad," Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes and pointed to his nose. "Oh, right, one sided conversation. Sorry."
"Well, ummm…Garth is looking into a local job to do, with the snow storm going on I thought Jim and I might go along and help out. Give Jim a chance to see what hunting's all about," Sam said. "Alice is still moping about her red hair, she tried to dye it and it didn't work. Bobby has got a friend working the salvage yard right now, that's running smoothly for the moment. That's about it."
Dean nodded and started to unbutton his shirt, motioning to his stitches. Sam glanced at them and asked, "They starting to itch?"
Dean rolled his eyes and motioned with his hands, using his fingers like scissors. "You want them out," Sam asked. "I guess we can take them out, right Jim?"
Jim nodded, adjusting the IV line. He tossed Sam a removal kit and grinned. "I was thinking the same thing earlier," Jim said.
Sam began the process of slowly clipping the nylon thread Bobby and Garth had put in and used the tweezers to pull them out. He lost count somewhere after twenty-two. Dean's eyes kept drooping, Sam occasionally talking about his trips through the Amish community and into the nearby towns. Sam and Jim watched as Dean slipped into sleep, the bag only half empty. Sam cleaned Dean's chest, taping a gauze pad in place to protect the still sensitive skin.
"Want to check his bruises," Jim asked. "I'm pretty sure he's more than sleeping, I think he's passed out. His alcohol tolerance has probably hit rock bottom."
Sam chuckled at the thought that Dean could actually get drunk, he had rarely seen his older brother get drunk; he was always on high alert, only allowing himself to get really drunk while John was around to keep any eye on Sam.
"I checked him over in the tub, He's got a few bruises on his right shoulder and hip, probably from his fall on the steps when he tried to make a run for it," Sam stated. "Nothing we can do about them but wait. What about his leg? He told Bobby it was keeping him awake."
Jim nodded and said, "He can have some anti-inflammatories if he needs them. I doubt he'll need them tonight though. The whiskey provided a cheap pain killer for the night."
An hour later, Sam watched as Jim slowly slid the tube of out Dean's nose, trying to not wake him up. Jim smiled as the tube pulled free and he quickly vacated the room, heading for his own bed. Sam was just about to flip out the lamp when Dean caught his hand and said, "Leave it on Sam."
Sam pulled his hand back, puzzled. Dean hadn't ever been afraid of the dark, even as kids he had preferred it for sneaking around in. "Alright," Sam said. "You need anything?"
"You think dad's coming back," Dean asked without opening his eyes.
"Of course he is," Sam said, surprised that Dean would even ask. Dean had always glorified John's skills as a hunter. "You think he needed help on his job?"
"What? No," Dean said as though it had been a stupid thing to even think, much less say. "I mean do you think dad will come back here, to Alice's?"
"Why wouldn't he," Sam asked, wondering if he had missed something.
"I'm pretty sure he and Alice had some wild times back in the day," Dean said as he rolled over, yanking the IV line as he did. "Dad stole Alice's dead husband's gun to keep her from killing herself. Said he thought she was lonely out here by herself. I bet he'll stop back by."
Sam stared at Dean's back and asked, "Where did you two go today?"
"Cemetery," Dean mumbled tiredly.
"He took you on a job," Sam asked angrily.
"Don't get your panties in a twist Sammy, he was off the clock," Dean said curtly. "He was showing me something that he thought I needed to see."
"And," Sam said, waiting for Dean to elaborate.
"And I saw it, he was right," Dean said with a yawn. "I needed to see it."
Sam turned to leave the room, pausing as Dean called out to him. "Tell Garth that was a kick ass burger," Dean said sleepily. "And tell Alice, if she ever mentions those ants again, I'll pour sugar in her gas tank."
Well, there ends our night. I NEED some feedback on a specific matter AND AS THE READER; you have a responsibility to provide your valuable in-sight. I need some thoughts on Alice/John. I previously stated that I wouldn't pair anyone off, how would YOU feel if they did? Graphic is not required by any means, it could be subtle…TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR OPINION MATTERS! VOTE! I'm waiting for feedback on this before starting the new chapter, SO LET ME KNOW SOON! Thanks!
