As soon as the nurse left her and Sam alone in the hallway, Chrys started to plan for a way to get both the Winchesters and herself out of Sioux Falls General Hospital. The problem was she'd followed Sam when they'd wheeled him into the emergency room, so she had no idea where Dean was. She wasn't particularly worried about getting by hospital staff, but she did need to find Dean.

As she began to push the gurney that her unconscious lover was on down the hall, she almost wheeled him right into a suited-up Bobby.

Even though she'd known that Bobby hadn't been in the house or on the property at all, the sight of the older hunter standing in the white, sterile hall of the hospital had her sagging in relief. "Bobby, thank Christ."

He rolled his eyes. "Wanna explain to me why everyone thought I was dead?"

"The house burned down, and there was what I suspect was a goddamn leviathan trying to kill us?"

Bobby's eyebrows rose. "How'd you kill it?"

Chrys smiled. "I dropped a car on him," she said smugly.

Bobby chuckled. "That's my girl," he said almost fondly. He quickly sobered. "Come on, we gotta meet Dean at the ambulance dock."

He came around to help steer Sam. "Where even is Dean?" she asked as they moved briskly down the corridor.

Bobby snorted. "Idiot got his leg broken. He's high as a kite, but they've already got a caston him, so he's mobile… Enough."

Chrys winced in sympathy, but nodded. "Good enough for me."

"Excuse me!" A new voice called. When Chrys turned, a young woman in nurse's scrubs was frowning and hurrying to catch up with them.

I fucking hate hospitals, she thought venomously as she pasted a polite smile on her face. "Can I help you?"

"Where are you taking him?" the nurse demanded.

Chrys had, quite frankly, already had a rough twelve hours. The patience she normally would have had for constructing some sort of believable story for this woman was completely gone. She was considering how best to restrain and subdue her when Bobby, bless him, spoke.

"Coverage lapsed," he lied smoothly. "We're shipping him to county."

The nurse, who had caught up with them and was standing next to the gurney, seemed to soften. "Oh, poor thing. All right, just… Can't be too careful, you know."

Chrys nodded. "Absolutely, no worries."

When the woman had finally rounded the corner, they hurried down the hallway again. They were both on high alert, trying to look like they belonged.

When they finally got to the dock, Bobby hotwired one of the ambulances while Chrys loaded Sam into the back. It was a pain in the ass, Sam was a tall man. By the time she'd managed it, she was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and was even more irritated.

It was not helped when she turned and saw Dean, still dressed in a hospital gown and definitely high as a kite. He was struggling down the ramp with his crutches.

She met him halfway to help him down. "You know," she griped, "people who aren't used to doing drugs shouldn't get to do the good ones."

Dean looked over at her, surprised. "Chrys! You're here!" He pointed down at the leg in a cast, as much as he could with her hurrying them both along. "Chrys, look, monsters broke my leg."

She rolled her eyes. "I can see that, you fucking lightweight."

He gave her a dopey grin. "Chrys!"

She continued to haul both of them down the ramp. They were almost to the ambulance. "What?"

"Chrys," he whispered enthusiastically. "I think Sammy lo-o-oves you."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she growled, "Dean Winchester turns into a twelve-year-old girl when he's high. No, do not check to make sure your dick is still there!"

He was looking panicked as she opened the door and began herding him into the passenger seat of the ambulance. "But-"

"Summers!" Bobby barked as he pulled himself up into the driver's seat. "We got company!"

She whirled and saw both a doctor and a nurse hurrying toward them. She turned and gave Dean an apologetic look. "This is gonna hurt."

He frowned. "What's gonna-"

She gave him a hard shove into the ambulance, ignoring his pained yelp. She moved him over, as gently and quickly as possible, then got in herself just as Bobby was hitting the accelerator.

"Do you have a plan?" she panted as she got Dean situated.

"Yep," Bobby said shortly, but offered no other information.

She was okay with that.


Chrys settled Sam in one of the guest bedrooms of Rufus' old cabin that night, undressing him quickly until he was just in boxers and a t-shirt, then tucking him tightly into the bed. She sat next to him and ran her hand through his hair, staring down at him with more worry than she would let herself have if he'd been awake and looking at her.

"I don't know how to help you," she whispered, letting the worry that kept her up at night finally have a voice. Finally putting it into real words, spoken aloud.

"I'm not qualified for this, Sammy." There were tears in her eyes. "You want someone's ass kicked, or someone to mouth off at a being way more powerful, I'm your girl. But I'm barely holding it together myself, most times, I don't know how to hold another person in one piece."

She felt a tear slide down her face and she dashed it away, irritated. "I'm going to try to be what you need me to be," she whispered again, "I don't know if I can, but I'm gonna try."

She stayed there for a long time.


Bobby hadn't meant to eavesdrop, he really hadn't, but the door had been left open a crack. Chrys must not have closed it all the way.

With Dean put in a bed for the night, conked out on what looked like a good cocktail of pain medicine, Bobby had been going to bed down in the third bedroom, just moving down the hallway, when he'd heard Chrys through the door.

When he did get to his room and shut the door (completely shut, latch click and all), Bobby sat down on his bed. He let his elbows rest on his knees, hands dangling down, and thought for a while.

Bobby liked Chrys. He'd always had a penchant for women who were made of fire and sass. He'd never seen Chrys back down from a fight, even if he could tell that she was scared. The only time he'd really ever seen her weak was when they'd all gotten back from the averted apocalypse, and she'd looked so thin and terrified and lost. He hadn't been able to help want to take care of her.

It was that week, the week of making sure she ate and slept, that really cemented the feeling of Chrys being one of his. Now, with all of his kids hurt in one way or another, Bobby was filled with a sort of helpless feeling that he despised.

Lucky for him, one of the things he was really, really good at was research. And lucky for him, research was just what Chrys needed.


The next morning, Sam still hadn't woken up, but he'd moved around a little in his sleep. Chrys wrapped herself in one of his shirts and a pair of her leggings and trudged downstairs to find out what Bobby had found to eat in the dusty old cabin.

She was finger combing her hair when she got down to the kitchen. She smiled when the smell of coffee and buttered toast hit her, and she padded over to the coffee pot on bare feet. "Morning, Singer," she said sweetly.

He just hmphed at her, and she grinned as she poured herself a cup. No matter what else was going on, she could count on Bobby being willing to tell her to go fuck herself any time before he'd had a full cup of coffee.

There was already a plate of toast on the counter, so she picked that up too and brought it to the table where Bobby was sitting, paperwork scattered around him. She raised her eyebrows in question as she sat across from him. She didn't realize the ancient computer and printer situated in the master bedroom even worked.

Without acknowledging the silent question, he put a stack of papers in front of her. She read the heading and frowned in confusion.

"Reality vs. Hallucinations: Understanding and Helping Patients with Schizophrenia." She looked up again. "What is this?"

"I figure if Sam's still seein' shit that ain't there," Bobby said gruffly, "we should figure out somethin' to help him discern what's real from what's fake."

Chrys was truly, honestly speechless for a moment. When what Bobby had said sunk in, she felt a wide, happy grin spread across her face. "Bobby, you old softie."

"Shut up, summers, and get to readin'."

She did just that.


It was evening before either Winchester brother joined them.

Chrys had gone out to the local grocery store to stock up. The cabin had a few amenities, and a big standing freezer outside that had a loaf of bread in it, but that was all. She made sure they had enough food to feed four people for several weeks while Dean and Sam healed. She got enough vegetables to make Sam happy, and enough ingredients to make pie to keep Dean happy.

Thank God Bobby's low maintenance, she thought to herself more than once during the excursion.

As she was putting the finishing touches on spaghetti and garlic bread, she heard shuffling steps and a whispered curse at the top of the stairs.

"Which one of you is that?" she called, not leaving her place at the stove.

"It's me," Dean grunted. "I'm coming down. If I fall and break my other leg, leave me here to die."

Chrys rolled her eyes. "Drama queen."

"Shut it, Summers, I'm crippled, not deaf."

"Just get your ass down here, dinner's almost ready."

He eventually made his way down the stairs, muttering about heartless bitches and no respect the whole time. Chrys kept her chuckling to herself, but only barely. They both knew if she went in there and tried to help, he'd be even more irate than he was now.

Drama queen, she thought fondly.

Once he was down in the kitchen with her, she did pull out a chair for him before making two plates and setting one in front of him. She also filled two glasses with water, grabbed some of his painkillers, and sat next to him, doling out drugs and water.

"How do you feel?" she asked, twirling her fork in the noodles.

"Like a leviathan threw me into a car and broke my leg," he sniped.

Unimpressed, Chrys rolled her eyes. "Can the attitude. You're fine."

He grumbled, but fell quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. "Good thinking with the car," he finally acquiesced.

Far from modest, Chrys grinned. "Right? I'm a genius."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes, but Chrys didn't let him dampen her mood. It had been a damn good move, and she was going to brag about it for the rest of her life, god dammit.

"How's, uh, how's Sammy?" Dean asked gruffly.

Ah, there went her good mood. "Still asleep," she said softly. "I think it's sleep, anyway. I'm hoping it's not unconsciousness."

"Didn't he get a CAT scan?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it came back clear. I wasn't real focused on it, though. I was mostly worried about whether the nurse was going to eat us."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Dean, that thing looked like it was human. I thought it was for a second, I thought it was just some dude who'd showed up before his head went all…" She opened her mouth wide and wagged her tongue around. "I think it was a leviathan, and you do, too, but the fact is we don't know yet. So, yeah, I was a little bit focused on making sure neither of us got eaten."

He looked affronted. "What about me?!"

She shrugged. "I only have two eyes, I had no idea where they took you, and I wasn't going to just leave Sam to come try to find you."

"You left me to die?!"

"… I would have missed you?"

"What?!"

"Especially the unattractive screeching," Chrys mused. "That's one of my favorite parts of you."

Dean pointed his fork at her. "Fuck you, Summers."

"Maybe some other time, big boy, I'm still eating."

Dean rolled his eyes again, and she laughed out loud. The heavy atmosphere, thick with the absence of Sam, dissipated, leaving her feeling lighter than she'd had in a while, for just a few moments.

"Where's Bobby?"

"Research."

Dean frowned. "I thought all of his research was at the house? You know, the one that burned down?"

"It was."

"Chrys," Dean said seriously, "most of that stuff was priceless. Irreplacable."

"You know how paranoid Bobby is. He has copies stashed all over the place. He went to get one of his collections, he said he'll be back by morning."

Dean frowned again. "He left you here by yourself?"

Chrys shrugged. "It's not that big a deal. The place is easily defendable, and now that the fridge is full, we're set up for a few weeks of recovery time." When she looked over at him, Dean was still frowning.

Chrys was struck again by how lucky she was to have these men in her life. Sam, of course, would always be at the top of her list, but she loved Dean and Bobby, too. The protective, irritated way Dean was looking at her made her both warm on the inside, and made her want to wipe the look on his face.

"I may have gotten enough stuff to make a pie," she said thoughtfully, like the comment wasn't a guided missile.

The worry was wiped from his face as his eyes lit up with delight. "Ms. Summers, you are a lady and a scholar," he said fervently.

Chrys just laughed happily.


**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.