June 11, 2006

The typical range for blood sugar in an adult male varies, but most individuals will be between 80 and 200 mg/dL. 80 is generally regarded as the low end of "safe" fasting blood sugar levels. Anything below 70 is concerning, 54 is a sign of immediate action. When Sam was admitted to St. Martin's Hospital he had 23 mg/dL and was also missing three pints of blood, not to mention the other less-life-threatening injuries he had sustained.

After a desperate Dean drug his brother through the front door of the emergency room a trauma team immediately took Sam away for transfusions and to try to get the dangerously low blood sugar back to a less alarming level. Dean was left with Bobby, sitting in the waiting room as he copied down Sam's insurance information (which he hoped was accurate and valid this far out-of-network).

Bobby listened as Dean talked on his cell phone, "Mom… It's Dean." He paused, "Can you get Dad and put it on speaker?" A brief shuffle had both Berettas crowded around the phone, "I found Sam. He's in the hospital right now; he's not in good shape… Yeah, thank God he's alive. St. Martin's." Dean paused as he wrinkled his face, "In South Dakota. Yeah, really. My friend Bobby helped me find him. I don't know. If I find anything out I'll call. Please pray for him, and both of us-we're running on fumes… I promise I will. Love you. Bye."

Bobby looked at Dean. The kid was worn the hell out. His eyes were bagged, his hair a mess, and somehow even his clothes looked tired. That is one stubborn sonuvabitch. Bobby rubbed the shiner that Dean had given him, especially when it comes to his brother.

"You're right, y'know." Dean said, looking up from his folded hands.

"I'm right about what?"

"That there's monsters and ghosts and bears-oh-my…" He shrugged, trying to deflect his obvious worry with humor. "I'm sorry I called you crazy and thought you were a cultist who kidnapped my brother, even if you do still kinda give off a weird vibe."

"Honestly, I've been called worse." Bobby raised his hands as a miniature shrug, "And considering that you had no idea what was out there, and still decided to face it-you aren't too terrible yourself."

"Thanks." Dean paused, "When this is all over, I need your number-with the new horrifying realization that there are creatures of evil everywhere I want to get some advice on keeping my family safe from this bullshit."

"Sure thing."

**SPN**

Dean and Bobby decided to spend the night in a hotel across the street from the hospital, with Sam's condition stable by the evening it was safe to leave him alone until the next morning. While Bobby had argued in favor of a cheaper motel a few blocks away, Dean refused. After his decidedly unpleasant stay in the motel on the way to Bobby's he had vowed to never settle for less than a three star location. Because I'm not a nomad, I'm a schoolteacher damnit!

**SPN**

Holy shit. I'm not dead. Sam looked around at the hospital room. It was a single room, and according to the board on the wall it was the 11th. So I've been out for a day. Great. Sam shifted his body weight and began to assess the extent of his injuries. His left arm was wrapped in gauze, while his right leg was in a cast. He had quite a few stitches he could see, And probably a bunch more that I can't right now. The IV was dripping steadily and aside from a slight headache he didn't feel different from normal-Though, given that the bag says morphine, I can probably guess why.

How the hell did I get here? R.J. knocked me off that balcony and I blacked out. But Cold Oak isn't near a hospital… And why am I not dead? I couldn't have won… I didn't stand a chance against R.J. But it was a battle to the death, so how am I here? Sam furrowed his brow, then pressed the call button on his bed. It was going to be a hell of a morning.

**SPN**

After Dean crowded his brother and nearly lifted him out of the bed in a bear-hug he began to ask questions.

"Alright, first things first-what the hell happened?! I had no idea where you were, and if it wasn't for Bobby you'd be dead in some ghost town." Dean gestured at the gruff older man sitting bedside.

"I don't know how I got there, all I know is that when I woke up I was in a house in that town. A guy named R.J. woke me up and told me how a demon had told the others there that they were competing for some special honor… We hid in the house until sundown to avoid the others-there was a couple who had some pretty nasty abilities. After it was dark we took this path out of town, eventually we climbed a hill and were on the edge of the valley when the demon appeared." He paused.

"What did the demon do?" Dean asked, carefully watching Sam's face.

"He told us that it was just the two of us-R.J. and me-and that we had to fight to the death. If we didn't he said he had warrants out for Mom and Dad's souls-and R.J.'s parents… The yellow eyed bastard then teleported us back into town and the last thing I remember is falling off a balcony as we fought before I woke up here." Sam rubbed his gauzed arm.

"Yellow eyes?" Bobby tilted his head sideways, "You sure you don't mean black?"

"No. They were yellow, almost like looking at an animal when a light shines off of them. He said he had power in hell and that we were fighting-" Sam paused, trying to remember the exact words, "Because he needed to pick a vessel."

"A vessel for what?" Bobby cautiously pulled out a pen and paper.

"I don't know." Sam nervously replied.

**SPN**

The day slid on as the summer sun basked the hospital room in its warm rays. By mid-day the doctor had okayed reducing Sam's morphine dosage and it looked like he would be able to go home in a few days if everything continued progressing well.

Bobby disappeared briefly after lunch before returning with a paper bag.

"Bobby, we just had lunch. I hope you didn't run out to get something." Sam looked up from the card game he and Dean were playing.

"I wouldn't advise eating any of this…" Bobby tipped out the bag to reveal a few hex bags and a cylinder of salt.

"Salt and potpourri bags?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Salt and hex bags. We need to keep you safe, now that a demon suddenly took interest in you." Bobby began placing a few lines of salt and handed Dean a hex bag. "One for you, one for your brother. Don't lose these things because they're a pain in the ass to make and I don't have any spares."

"A hex bag?" Dean appraised the small pouch.

"It's a charm to keep you off the radar of demons." Bobby cocked his head sideways a minute before turning back to the brothers, "Neither of you would be opposed to getting a tattoo, would you?"

**SPN**

"You have ten minutes until visiting hours finish." A nurse poked her head in. "I promise we'll take good care of him until morning."

"Thanks. We'll be heading out in a few." Dean smiled and watched as she left.

"Y'know, it's almost funny." Sam said.

"What is?" Dean asked as he stuffed the cards back into their package.

"That it took me almost dying for you and Bobby to get along."

Bobby glanced at Dean, "Well, your brother certainly didn't make it easy. Though once he was finally convinced of the supernatural he softened up a bit."

"Though it nearly took being attacked by a banshee for that to happen." Dean remarked, glancing at his watch, "I'm just glad we're done with that miserable town."

Sam's face paled slightly as something dawned on him, "Wait… when you found me, were there bodies around?"

"Yeah. There were … a lot." Dean had mentally tried to erase the images, but they persisted.

"Those people deserve a decent burial, their families deserve closure." Sam sat up.

"Sammy, they tried to kill you!"

"Not really, aside from R.J. none of the others even saw me. Besides, it was forced on us."

"Fine. I'll call the parks department and give an anonymous tip." Bobby stated, "Now get some rest. Dean and I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight Dean. 'Night Bobby."

"Goodnight Sam."

"G'night Sammy." Dean smiled as he closed the door.