Chapter Eleven
Sam stared deep into his brother's dark eyes, trying to find some sort of command there that would tell him what to do. He was trying desperately to figure out what plan his brother had in mind so they could both get out of this situation without the nuisance of a bullet to the head. He knew Dean would tell him what to do when the time was right. Dean was always in control, always. All Dean would have to do was give Sam a sign to fight and he'd fight. But right now, as Bill Cummings' gun was pressed against Sam's head, Dean's bloodshot eyes weren't looking at his brother, they weren't giving him some secret instructions, they weren't assuring him that everything would be all right, they were looking straight at the madman who was now threatening his little brother. Dean's eyes seemed foreign to Sam. Darker than normal.
"I said let him go," Dean growled, teeth clenched, his voice so sinister it almost scared Sam. He'd heard his brother's voice when he was angry before, many times, but this was a step above anger. It was something different, something Sam only saw rarely, and only when it was his life that was on the line. As gruesome as the description sounded, Sam could only classify Dean's current emotional state as a deep, horrific bloodlust.
It was strange the way Dean worked, Sam realized. Only moments before, he'd been slumped on the ground, panting and sweating and almost unable to go on. But now, with the immediate danger being on Sam's life, all of Dean's injuries were forgotten, his glossy eyes had cleared, his posture had straightened and his hands were perfectly still, in control. But Sam knew, that underneath the strong, fierce façade his brother was displaying, Dean was on the verge of collapse, both physically and emotionally. No man, no matter how strong they claimed to be, could handle all of this stress and sooner or later, it was going to catch up to Dean in the worse possible way. Sam only hoped he'd be around to catch his brother.
As Bill Cummings shook with rage, Sam winced and couldn't help the small gasp that escaped his throat as the gun was pushed tighter against his head. Sam could smell the alcohol on Bill's breath. He reeked of whiskey, cigars and sweat. It was a foul smell that Sam would not soon forget. The arm that was wrapped around Sam's neck was trembling slightly and Sam didn't even want to imagine how much Bill's trigger finger was doing the same.
"I knew you'd come!" Bill shouted and Sam felt spittle sprinkle his ear and cheek. He grimaced but didn't say anything more. I've been waiting for this day for months," Bill's words were slurred, but surprisingly strong. Sam wondered if the man was hallucinating or just seriously confused. He wasn't sure which one he preferred more.
Dean titled his head slightly, his jaw jutted out in an attempt to contain the utter rage he felt inside of him. When he spoke again, his voice was collected, but the emotion was raw. "We're not here to hurt you," he said. "But, so help me, if you don't let go of him I won't hesitate to put a fucking bullet in your head." The threat was severe and Sam was sure that on a good day, Dean would have done just that. But today, he hoped his brother was bluffing. Half because he didn't want to see anyone get killed over this misunderstanding and half because he wasn't sure his brother's aim was as good as it usually was.
"You pigs are all the same!" Bill spat, giving Sam a shake, to which Sam grimaced but this time out of anger. He didn't like being manhandled.
"Bill," Kate's voice stuck out amongst the deep threats from both sides. She sounded scared, not threatening in the least. Hopefully that would get through to the drunk man. "These guys aren't cops," she tried to persuade him. "They're here to help us."
"Bullshit!" Bill screamed and then gave a frustrated yell that left Sam's ear ringing. Sam looked at Dean, begging him to hurry up and think of something. Sam's nerves were slowly being frayed away. Dean glanced at him sparingly before looking back at Bill. "He deserved to die!" Bill shouted and for a moment, Sam thought that maybe the man was talking about him. But that thought went out quickly when Bill spoke again. "He killed my wife."
Kate held up her hands and took a few steps closer, but Bill tensed and jerked Sam and she stopped. "Bill, you wife died in a car accident," she said, trying to remind the man. "Last winter," she added, hoping that if the man was really deranged, he'd at least remember how his wife died.
"No!" Bill screamed. "She would have made it. She would have lived through it if it weren't for him."
Sam took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself and steady his voice before he spoke. "For who, Bill?"
The man seemed genuinely surprised that his hostage was speaking and he held Sam tighter for a moment, bringing his head around to look at the side of Sam's face. Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to show the man that he was really interested, that he wouldn't hold a grudge if he just let him go. But Bill seemed beyond reason now. His eyes were wide, wild, and slightly panicked.
"That damn rookie medic!" Bill screamed and shook Sam harshly again. Sam grunted as Bill pulled his arm tighter around his neck. He was coming close to cutting off his air. Sam wondered what everyone's fascination with choking him was. It seemed to happen a lot to him. "He should have known! He should have known!" And now Bill was sobbing, his whole body shaking. Sam gave Dean a desperate look, knowing that any second Bill's finger could slip and Sam's life would end abruptly.
Dean caught Sam's eye for a moment and held his gaze. Sam tried to read his brother's face, but he couldn't tell what Dean was thinking. Finally, Dean looked away and Sam gladly let his brother take control of the situation. "Bill," Dean said, voice calm. "I would have killed him too." Dean took a step forward when Bill suddenly stopped crying and stared hard at Dean. When the man didn't say anything about him getting closer, he continued to step forward, slowly lowering the gun and holding his hand up to show he wasn't going to hurt him. "You did the right thing. You did what any man would do. The bastard deserved it, didn't he? You were only dealing out justice."
"Yes," Bill sobbed, nodding his head vigorously in agreement. "Yes, I did what those pig bastards wouldn't. I took down a murderer. Single handedly because they wouldn't even admit that he did anything wrong. Well he did!" Bill screamed and Dean stopped, his gun pointed down and one hand still up to the side. "They should have known. They should have known about her condition, but they didn't and they killed her because of it."
Dean looked contemplative for a moment before he took another step. Bill tensed, so Dean slowed but kept coming. Sam prayed his brother knew what he was doing. "They gave her the wrong treatment, didn't they?" Dean asked, his voice low.
Bill sucked in a breath. "She was allergic," he whispered quietly. Sam, as scared as he was at the moment, couldn't help but start to put the pieces of the story together. Bill Cummings' wife was in a car accident. She must have been hurt, but not instantly killed. But a rookie paramedic, combined with an unknown allergy, must have proven fatal when he gave her something that she was allergic to. It happened sometimes, there was no way paramedics could know about a person's allergies or sicknesses unless someone told them. That's why whatever treatment they gave at scenes of accidents were always basic, essential for life. But every so often, they came across the people that were allergic to even the most basic of treatments. Of course Bill would blame the paramedics, especially if it was a rookie. But he must have let it get to him and he must have gone out and killed the rookie medic who made the slip up.
"So you killed him," Dean observed, thinking along the same line as Sam.
Bill was quiet for a moment before he started whimpering and let out a sob. Sam felt his heart race up more than it had already been. He couldn't help the tears that were slowly coming to his eyes. He felt stupid, but dammit he was scared. After every evil thing they'd gone up against, it would just be the perfectly cruel end to die at the hands of a drunk. It would be the perfect way for life to spit him in the face and remind him how much he hated it sometimes.
"I…" Bill started but broke off with a sob. He jerked Sam again and this time Sam emitted a small whimper and closed his eyes, a wave of panic racing through his body. God, get that fucking gun away from his head. "I had to," Bill whispered softly.
"Of course you did," Dean nodded his head. He was almost close enough for Sam to reach out and grab hold of his hand. "But you don't have to kill my brother," he said quietly. "We understand what you did. We're on your side. We can help."
Bill looked cautiously at Dean for a moment, his lips quivering and small whimpering noises escaping his throat. For a split second, Sam thought that maybe he would let him go. Maybe he would believe Dean and everything would be okay. They'd all walk away from this and Sam could go and get fussed over by Dean and Kate and Bill could go inside and sleep off his drunkenness and in the morning they'd forgive him and everything would be okay. But that split second didn't last long.
"Bill, what the hell?" Ken's voice boomed from behind them. Sam saw Dean's eyes dart towards Ken frantically. Bill let out a startled yell and began to turn, pulling Sam with him. The next few seconds happened so fast that Sam wasn't sure what was going on until it was over. He hadn't been expecting the turn and his feet caught on one another, he started to fall. Dean rushed forward and grabbed Bill's arm, the one holding the gun. He gave it a hard yank and Sam was let go to fall to the ground. He didn't see what happened next, but he heard the sound of a scuffle, then someone grunted and a body hit the ground. Moments later, a gunshot went off and another body fell to the ground.
Panic nearly paralyzed Sam as his mind caught up with the events. He whipped his head around, praying that he wouldn't find Dean's face blown away by a short ranged gunshot wound. He gave a small sigh of relief as he saw Dean was sitting up slowly, a trickle of blood coming from his lip, which was now split and starting to swell. But there was no gunshot wound. He noticed Dean's wide eyes starring at something and he followed his gaze to where Bill now lay. Sam sucked in a gasp. Bill's gun lay limply in his hand, which was sprawled out next to him. His eyes stared lifelessly towards the sky and a bullet wound entered one side of his head smoothly and exploded in an array of flesh and bone and brain matter on the other. Sam turned his head away, his stomach churning involuntarily.
Sam flinched as a pair of arms suddenly wrapped themselves around him and pulled him into a tight bear hug. Sam turned his head as Dean let go of him and grabbed his face instead, making Sam look directly at him. Sam let his brother have a moment to inspect him, making sure that there were indeed no bullet wounds in Sam's head before Sam smiled and said breathily, "I'm alright."
"Fucking Christ," Dean hissed and Sam let out a slight disgruntled laugh as Dean pulled him into a hug again. Sam sat still for a moment, taking comfort in his brother's immense worry, but also letting his brother get over whatever intense emotions had been rolling beneath that tough guy attitude of his. Finally, Sam pulled away and looked at Dean's newly split lip.
"You okay?" he asked, raising a hand slightly to point at the trickle of blood down Dean's chin.
"I'm not the one who had a fucking gun pointed at my head, you idiot," Dean's voice was angry, but Sam knew it wasn't aimed at him. Dean took a deep breath and looked back over at Bill. "Dammit," he hissed and got to his feet, pulling Sam up involuntarily when he forgot to let go of his sleeve. They stood quietly for a moment, looking down at Bill's body. The blood was staining the snow and Sam felt suddenly sick again.
Ken and Kate had made their way over to them, both staring in shock at the body. Kate found her voice first. "We should call an ambulance." She was quiet, unsure.
Dean snorted and squatted back down, looking at Bill's dead eyes. "I hate to tell you this," he said sarcastically. "But I don't think he's going to make it."
Kate turned to glare at him, rage suddenly evident on her face. "How can you joke?" she practically screamed. Dean turned his head and looked up at her. "Bill just shot himself right in front of you and you just sit there and joke?"
"Well I ain't gonna cry," Dean said, obviously irritated.
Kate looked astonished. "This was someone's life!" she screamed, her whole body shaking with anger at him.
Dean gained his feet quickly, the rage back in his eyes as he stood close to her and practically screamed in her face, "Yeah and it was almost my brother's! So don't you stand there and tell me I should feel sorry for that son of a bitch!"
Sam stepped forward and put a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, pulling him back away from Kate, who looked shocked and a bit frightened by Dean's emotional outburst. Dean let Sam lead him backwards but his eyes were still locked with Kate's until she looked away. Sam stepped between the two, blocking his brother's vision of her. "Dean," he said and his brother's eyes flickered to him, the rage that was swelling there slowly easing away. "Take it easy," he tried to soothe.
"Take it easy?" his brother repeated, sounding shocked that Sam could even say such a thing. "Sammy, that dude almost killed you and you're telling me to take it easy? Jesus what's wrong with you?" he snapped and Sam reminded himself not to take it personally, Dean was upset. "I'm sorry, but you should be a little more freaked out than you are right now."
"I am," Sam said quickly and that got Dean's attention. Sam gave him a gently smile. "We all are, okay?" Dean's eyes darted between Ken, who had taken off his hat and was giving a silent prayer, and Kate who looked to be on the verge of tears. The sight seemed to force Dean to calm down a bit from the adrenaline rush that he was no doubt experiencing. Sam gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and at the same time told himself to calm down as well. Though he wanted to appear calm and collected on the outside, Sam was just as shaken, heart still racing.
"We should call the Sheriff," Kate said, biting her lip to keep from crying. Sam turned to look at her and nodded.
"Oh he's going to love us," Dean said, finally reaching up to wipe the blood off his chin. He touched the tips of his fingers to his smarting lip and gave a disgusted look at having yet another wound to add to the growing list. But then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He handed it to Sam before he sighed and started heading back towards the car. "I need to sit down," he announced with a wave of his hand. Sam spared a moment to worry before he dialed the Sheriff's number.
Twenty minutes later, Bill Cummings' house was swarming with police and EMTs. Dean sat on the hood of Kate's car with Sam leaning next to him. They watched at a distance as Kate gave her statement to the Sheriff. Ken was talking to another deputy, though they seemed to be beyond the statement and were now charring idly about the dearly departed Bill.
Dean gave a sigh and Sam looked over at him. "You okay?" he asked, speaking to him for the first time since they'd called the police.
"I'm ready for this to be over with," Dean answered honestly. Sam smiled and nodded his agreement. He didn't want to tell Dean that he wanted the exact same thing. The fact that Dean had actually said anything had sparked up Sam's doubt again. It was draining them both. "Maybe we should call Dad," Dean said quietly. Sam looked back over at him and saw that Dean's face had grown solemn. His brother was wearing down.
"Do you think he'd answer?" Sam asked, not able to help the bitterness that had slipped into his voice.
"No," Dean gave after a moment's thought. He sighed again and put a hand to his head, closing his eyes in frustration. "God, Sammy, I promised you we'd find him and look where I've gotten us."
"Nearly killed, desperate for answers, physically and emotionally drained?" Sam answered, though there was a hint of humor in his voice.
Dean looked up at him and gave a playful glare. "Rub it in why don't you," he said, though a smile broke out on his face.
Sam smiled back and then turned to look at the Sheriff who was headed their way. "We'll find him," he said.
"Since when did you become the older brother?" Dean asked. But Sam didn't answer as the Sheriff stepped up to them, opening his small notebook and looking at the both of them.
"Well, I think I got the story straight from Kate and Ken," he said, eyeing them both. "You boys sure know how to attract trouble, don't you?" It wasn't exactly the question Sam had been expecting. He figured the Sheriff would be pissed with them for coming over to Bill's after he told them not to. But the Sheriff didn't look that mad, more tired than anything.
Sam licked his lips. "Look, Sheriff, we're really sorry…" he began but the Sheriff held up his hand, stopping him mid sentence.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's my fault really." That surprised both Sam and Dean, who perked up a bit, ready to hear what Sheriff Wyatt had to say. "A guy like Bill Cummings shouldn't be anywhere but a jail cell. I can't say I didn't see something like this coming. He's been depressed ever since Lonnie died. He started drinking and, well, things just got out of control after that."
"He was talking about that," Sam said, interested now. "He said that his wife didn't die in the car accident, but that she died because of a paramedic's mistake."
Wyatt snorted and shook his head, folding his notebook and tucking it away. "That's what he always thought. We all tried to tell him that Lonnie wouldn't have made it, with or without the treatment. Her brain was bleeding and she was seizing. She would have died either way. If anything, the medic made it painless for her."
"He said that he killed the medic," Dean said bluntly. Sam turned to give him a soft reprimanding glare, but Dean didn't seem to notice, or care.
The Sheriff ran a hand across his face. "I always knew he did it. But we just couldn't prove it. God, that guy was just a pup. Real sharp looking and he had a good future ahead of him. What a shame."
Sam frowned, an idea coming to mind. He almost dismissed it as being too outlandish, but he reminded himself of what they were dealing with and all of the odd circumstances they'd already come up against so far. So he decided to chance it. "Sheriff, what was the medic's name?"
The Sheriff opened his mouth to say it but he paused and frowned, scratching his head for a moment. He turned to one of his deputies who was talking to Ken. "Hey, Jensen, what was the name of that medic that died last winter?"
"The head wound victim?" the deputy called back.
"Yeah, that real young fella," the Sheriff nodded. And as soon as the name was out of the deputy's mouth, Sam and Dean both tensed, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do with this new bit of information.
"Kingly. Scotty Kingly."