Chapter15

The men carried Sam out to the van and laid him on the floor. They drove him to the hospital and dumped him at the door, then drove away fast. Sam lay, barely conscious, on the cement. His insides burned like fire, and he felt disconnected from his body. The pain was unbearable. His leg and side had started to bleed again. He thought about Dean. He should have never let them bring him here. He should have stayed with his brother.

"I'll get you out Dean, I promise!" he swore to himself.

Sam then heard yelling. Voices. He felt himself being picked up and placed on a stretcher, and then pushed into the ER. The doctors took one look at him and got to work. Sam couldn't move. He felt like he was looking down on his body, watching the drama. They placed him on oxygen and ordered some stat lab work. They started him on IV fluids for the dehydration. Finally, Sam couldn't stand it anymore and passed out.

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Dean was still chained to the ceiling. The doctor came into the basement and walked over to him.

"Sam?" asked Dean.

"They got to him in time," said the doctor. "He's going to be okay."

"Thank you," said Dean as he let out a breath.

"Don't thank me, Dean," said the doctor. "He's still going to die."

"What?" asked Dean. "You said you'd let him go!"

"I did let him go, Dean. I didn't say I wasn't still going to kill him though. I got a new patient in the ER last night. Somebody just dumped him out on the sidewalk. Now why would somebody do something like that? His name is Sam, and he was all beat up. It's sad really," said the doctor.

"You son of a bitch!" said Dean. The doctor just grinned.

"Relax, Dean. I made him my patient so I could keep my eye on him. He'll get good care. I turned him over to a resident, but every step he takes, every move he makes, I'll be watching him. If he goes to the cops and tells them anything, he's going to die; plus, I want to keep him informed of what's going on with you. Did you think I was just going to let him go? That speech you made was touching Dean, but it doesn't change the fact that my brother is dead because of you. Your brother is still going to die Dean, when I get ready for him to. I just told you all this to let you know that if you try anything, I'll kill him sooner."

The men came down the stairs to where the doctor was. "I told Dean the good news, men, but he doesn't seem too happy. Maybe he needs an attitude adjustment," said the doctor.

They nodded as the doctor went back upstairs. Dean looked at the men. What were they going to do?

"You need an attitude adjustment, boy?" asked one of the men.

"My attitude is just fine, thank you," said Dean

"No, it's not." said the other man, "but it will be." He walked over to the table and picked up a very large, very sharp knife, then walked back to Dean. He held the knife at Dean's throat, causing him to flinch. The man traced the knife down the front of Dean's t-shirt, and cut it off. He made a long, superficial incision down the front of Dean's chest. Dean screamed as the knife slashed the skin, then the man put the knife to his throat again and pressed. Dean didn't move. "Got something else to say?" he asked. Dean remained silent and the man lowered the knife. "I didn't think so."

The men went back upstairs leaving Dean chained to the ceiling. Dean looked down at the cut on his chest. It wasn't serious, but it hurt like hell. Dean thought about Sam. Where was he? What was the doctor doing to him? He didn't think it was a mistake for him to go to the hospital, because of the poison, but he didn't think about that psycho being Sam's doctor again. They were separated. Dean couldn't get to his brother. "I'm sorry Sammy," he said and closed his eyes.

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Sam woke up and looked around. He was in a hospital room, with IV fluids running in his arm. They had to take him to surgery immediately after they had stabilized him, because of the shape he was in. The doctors put a rod in the shattered bone in his left leg, and had dressed both it and his side. He had to get 5 units of blood because he had lost so much. All in all, Sam felt like shit. The doctor he'd come to loathe came into the room and walked over to Sam's bed. Sam stared at him in shock and shook his head.

"Hello Sam," said the doctor. "How are you feeling?" Sam didn't say anything.