Actions speak louder
Chapter 10
By teal-lover
Summary: Sam meant what he said the asylum. So how can he ever convince the one person in his life that knows him better than anyone, otherwise?
Rating: PG13, T
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)
AN: I'm back! Sorry that I've been missing in action, but I've had a crazy semester and working non-stop. I'm pretty much done for the spring, so I'm catching up—and fully intend on having some fun now…
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Two hours later, Missouri Mosely found herself flagging down a cab just off her flight. All she could do was pray that she wouldn't' be too late and that Dean had been successful. She hadn't heard from him since they'd been disconnected hours earlier after her warning. Oh she knew that Sam was still alive at least. A phantom phone call on her way into the Kansas City airport with instructions to "help him" again, was enough to prove that much to her. And knowing how stubborn John Winchester was, a simple phone call wouldn't be enough to convince him of Sam's identity. And relentless pursuit of the truth would surely lead him down the wrong path again. No, she had to do this personally. See Sam in person. Talk to him in person.
Missouri climbed into the back seat of the cab, instructing the driver. "Clearview Memorial Hospital, please."
The driver looked up questioningly, raising an eyebrow high enough for her to see it through the rearview mirror. He grinned politely. "That's quite a ways, Mam. It'll cost ya."
"How much?"
"$75."
"$40 is all I have--please, this is life and death."
"75," he said again firmly.
She sighed, thumbing through her purse and lifted out 2 twenty dollar bills and passed them through the small window between the seats. "I'll give you 40 because you and I both knew that's more than fair."
His pleasant demeanor vanished at the perceived slight and he spun in his seat, pointing out the door. "Look lady, 75 or you park it back on the curb!"
She narrowed her eyes as she read his mind again, then held up her cell phone. "Now you look here, James. You'll take me to Clearview Memorial Hospital for not more than 40 dollars or my fingers might just 'accidentally' slip and dial 555-4912 and inform the missus'--Karen I believe is her name--about your discounted fare for that hooker last night."
The driver's eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you--how did you--"
Cutting him off abruptly, Missouri smirked. "Know? I'm psychic."
His cheeks blushed furiously for a moment before his eyes began to glitter excitedly. His pitch rose as he spoke, "Life or death, you say?"
"Yes."
"Keep your money then, Lady. Rides' on me."
She grinned widely, pulling her money back and folding away the bills delicately.
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When they arrived at their destination, Missouri paused before placing her hand on the door handle, knowing exactly what the cab driver was going to do.
He jumped out of the car and threw open her door, extending his hand in a gentlemanly gesture to help her out.
"Laying it on thick", she mumbled under hear breath. He either hadn't heard or ignored her comment as she smiled at him wearily. Having read his mind, she was just waiting for the inevitable question.
"Hey, if you don't mind--how about giving me a heads up on the big lotto tonight? I normally wouldn't ask, but I'm working so hard to put my son through college and that would be such a big help."
You mean the son that you don't have? She was tempted to ask. Instead, she smiled pleasantly again and prattled off the first numbers that popped into her head.
He practically leapt for the cab as he turned and gave her a gleeful wave. She could almost see the dollar signs floating over his head before she turned and stalked into the building. Shaking her head absently, she muttered to herself, "Fool. If I could do lottery, I would have had the money to give ya."
Shaking her head absently, she strode up to the front desk authoritatively. "I'm here to see Sam Winchester."
The receptionist frowned, having instantly recognized the name. One of the nurses had given her a heads up on the young an after his bull of a father had come charging past her as if the ER doors had been painted red. His blatant disregard for the rules of this hospital still ticked her off, and she was determined to make someone pay for his arrogance. Struggling to contain her satisfied smirk, she told the woman, "I'm sorry—he's in ICU, but only immediate family are allowed in ICU."
Missouri narrowed her brown eyes and leaned forward with her hand on her hip. She didn't even have to think about the lie that poured from her mouth or the scene she was about to cause. Dean would be so proud, she thought even as her voice raised. "Now you listen here—just because I didn't pop that boy out of my womb doesn't mean that all the years I spent wiping the snot form his nose or cleaning up skinned knees or raising him from the ground up—makes me any less of his mother—just because we don't look alike?"
She eyed the woman's flushed cheeks of embarrassment and moved in for the kill, raising her voice even further still. "Child, you have some nerve! Now I don't know what marriage means to you, but when I took my vows, that included accepting the children as my own. And another thing—"
One of the ER doctors heard the commotion and attempted to diffuse the situation since everyone was staring at the two with a mixture of horror and amusement. She sighed before she reached the counter. This was turning out to be a long, exhausting day. Donning her friendliest expression and voice, she asked pleasantly, "Is there a problem I can help with?"
While Missouri answered yes, the receptionist answered a louder no to drown her out. Before the psychic could continue her tirade, the receptionist backtracked. "No, Dr. LaCie. I was just about to tell Mrs. Winchester where to find her step-son, Sam."
Comprehension dawned on the doctor's face and she looked on interestedly, extending her hand in a friendly gesture. "I see. I'm Dr. LaCie—I was the attending physician in the ER when Sam was brought in. Well, my shift is over now and I was wondering how Sam was doing, so why don't I take you up?"
Missouri stood up a little straighter, relieved to finally be seeing the youngest Winchester. Her features relaxed as she took the proffered hand. "Oh, thank you, Dear."
As the older woman did just that, she couldn't resist the temptation to turn and glare at the young woman behind the counter one last time. She chuckled softly to herself while the receptionist squirmed in her seat under the scrutinizing gaze.
When the two woman reached the ward, the doctor paused. "Since it's ICU, only two people are allowed at a bedside, and I know that you're husband and other son are inside. Wait here, and I'll run ahead and let them know that you'd like to see Sam."
She scurried down the hall before the older woman could protest and entered the room. Her gaze fell on the older man as she spoke. "Excuse me, Mr. Winchester? Your wife is here to see Sam, and they're really strict up here about only allowing two visitors at a time."
John's eyes widened in shock, "My WlFE?"
Before another confusing word could be uttered, Missouri brazenly waltzed into the room, throwing her arms around a still stunned Dean. "Oh honey, are you ok?"
"Uh…"
She spun around, her gentle voice raising while she glared at the older man. "And you—John. I know you don't want to hear it this time, but I'm not taking no for an answer. Now we need to pray for Sam, and we need to do it--as a family." She whirled around again to face the doctor. "Please dear, I know you have you rules, but just for a few minutes—we need to let Sam know that all of his family are here for him. And prayer—well, isn't that just the best kind of healing that there is?"
Dr. LaCie was about to protest, but the melodic, yet strangely demanding voice, suddenly made her feel as if she didn't stand a chance. She relented at the soft brown eyes that gazed at her imploringly. "Well I guess it couldn't hurt any. Just a few minutes though, please?"
When the woman was out of earshot, Dean couldn't decide who warranted his gaze more—his brother, his father, or his—stepmother? He hadn't realized he said the last part out loud until they both looked to him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Dad? Something you want to tell me?"
Missouri rolled her eyes at the young man. "Oh please Dean. You know the drill with Intensive Care Units. You've certainly all been in them enough. Immediate family only. How else was I supposed to get up here?" She grinned, knowing exactly the moment it dawned on him from the way his eyes lit up mischievously.
John rubbed a hand over his face exhaustedly. "What are you doing here, Missy?"
"Stopping you from making another bone-headed move, that's what."
"You don't have a clue what's going on here or what you've done," he muttered brokenly.
He sounded so despondent, that the psychic actually felt sorry for him, her earlier anger at him dissipating. She softened her tone and explained. "John, you know what my abilities are, I shouldn't have to remind you. So I know everything that you know and more."
He pointed to the bed vehemently, "THAT, is not my son, Missouri. You may know what happened, but you didn't see that thing toss me clear across the room like a rag doll. How could Sammy possibly do that?"
She looked at him with all of the impatience of a parent explaining to child in the "why" phase. "Johnny, I have told you before. He's coming into his own. It was bound to happen sooner or later."
The older man gritted his teeth and argued stubbornly, "It threw me the second that I said—"
Missouri cut him off impatiently, "Yes, I know what you said. And what you said wasn't the problem. It was the fact that you said it."
"What?"
"Well, I'd say that Sam has more than a little bit of anger and resentment for you, John Winchester, and rightly so. I mean, the last time you spoke to your own child, you threw the poor boy out of his own home and practically disowned him."
He hissed in frustration, "But I did what I had to do to—," breaking off when he noticed Dean perk up at finally getting an explanation for what happened that night. But back then, he had decided that if he could help it, he was never going to tell either of his boys what really transpired. It was simply best if they didn't know, he reasoned. Safer for them. "I mean—what does that have to do with anything?"
"Because Sam wasn't reacting to the word you said. Subconsciously, he was reacting to the sound of your voice."
"No," John muttered half heartedly and stared at his son. He was too afraid to get his hopes up. And if she was right, then he had tried to kill his own son—the very child he had sworn to protect so many years ago, and that was just something he wasn't ready to accept. "How do you know that?"
"Because I can read his mind. His thoughts are a scattered mess, but it's mostly still the same scattered impressions and thoughts that I heard when he came to Lawrence a few weeks ago. With him being unconscious, they tend to be more random, but I don't sense any other presence besides Sam."
"No, there's something more than that going on here—how else would you have known to come here?"
Missouri looked to both men standing beside her and gently eased her expression into a comforting smile. "I'm here under orders."
"Whose?" Dean interrupted suspiciously.
"The real Mrs. Winchester, of course."
TBC…
AN: Hope you guys are still there. Please let me know what you think, and I'll certainly try my hardest to get the next chapter typed up for you asap. It's already written too ;)