Spoilers: slight reference to an event in 'Phantom Traveler'

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Iatrophobia

- Floor 4, part 1 -

oo0oo

When Dean closed the door on the anti-fun house room, he noticed that there was a simple crossbar fastener on the hallway-side. Well, locking the door seemed a good idea so he slid the sturdy bar into place. After all, even if it was only a slight deterrent, it could give them the seconds they would need to take evasive or defensive action.

Turning around, he saw Sam doing his best to bandage up Kole's arm. Dean had grabbed a few first aid supplies out of the car, mostly thinking of the two boys they were supposed to be looking for. However, looking at both his brother and cousin now, and knowing there still had two floors to go, they might not have anything left to offer the boys.

Sure, Dean knew he had a couple of bumps and bruises from the undead in the grave yard, and a tender spot on his chin from the cheap shot delivered by his doppleganger. But, with the brightness of the stairway, he could plainly see the rough abrasions on his brother's wrists and he could tell that Sam had some other sore muscles by the way he was moving. Not to mention all the squinting Sam was doing – a sure sign that the kid had a monster headache, and Dean was sure that he would find a lump under his brother's shaggy hair if he checked.

But Kole was the one who had actually lost some blood. She was still sporting the scrapes on her right cheek, though they had stopped bleeding, and there was a bruise forming where the evil-Dean had hit her. Logically, Dean knew he wasn't responsible for that, but when your memory shows a clear picture of your mirror-image striking someone, whether you dealt the blow or not you feel accountable. And, he was responsible for the scrapes on her face and the mess on her right shoulder.

He could see that Sam had mended her left arm as well as possible and had even gotten the bleeding to stop, but the rips and blood were still visible. Dean was struck with a strange thought: there was no way Kole was going to fix that sweater. She had sewn up some of the guys' clothing and knew how to get some nasty blood stains out, but the sweater was pretty much beyond repair. And too bad, he thought, she really liked that sweater. He shook his head to dislodge the thought – he would never admit to remembering the obscure fact that his cousin mentioned months ago about the article of clothing.

"So," Kole was the first to speak, "not that I'm complaining or anything, but this stairway seems rather average after the last two." In fact, the stairway was pretty average period. It was a simple, standard concrete set of stairs with everyday railings on either side. The walls around them were painted white, though they seemed to have dulled with age, and the area was illuminated with overhead fluorescent lighting.

"Kole," Sam sighed and gave a mock-patronizing smile, "we have learned through many, many, many years of experience not to ever wish for something to be as awful as expected."

"But," Dean added, though he was serious where Sam was not, "we never assume that something is harmless just because it looks like it is."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. Which was fine with Dean. He could be the serious one – would be the serious one, if that's what it took to keep Sam and Kole safe. He was obviously doing a poor job of protecting them up to this point but he was ready now – ready to keep an eye on both of them and make sure that neither his brother nor his cousin would be snatched up again. Not on Dean Winchester's watch.

They reached the top of the mundane stairs to an equally ordinary door. And stood there – each looking at the door, each taking calming breaths trying to ready themselves for whatever was on the other side. Then, Sam recalled something, not something specific, but he remembered the kids at the bar talking about this level. He was passing their table as two of them were describing this floor. What was it they said? He hadn't really been paying attention to them at that point... but it was on the edge of his memory.

"Well," Dean said, taking one last long breath, "I guess it's now or never..."

He began to push the door open as it finally came to Sam what this floor held. This floor didn't embody Sam's fear of being locked in a cage or Kole's fear of clowns. This floor was for Dean.

"Dean wait," Sam tried, wanting to warn his brother, but the door was already open. He knew that Dean would never, ever admit to being afraid of anything. Sure, he had a 'problem' with certain situations. Flying, for instance, which he controlled by, well, not flying (except that one time when Sam wanted to board a plane that was destined to crash).

"It looks like a waiting room," Kole said as she stepped through the doorway. It was a rather small area with uncomfortable-looking chairs haphazardly strewn around a battered old coffee table with long-outdated magazines fanned out on top. Directly across from them was a small, horizontal-sliding frosted-glass window. And to the left of that was a nondescript, wooden paneled door.

The other thing Dean had a 'problem' with was something he could not avoid, not in their line of work anyway. He would suffer through and grumble and get out as soon as possible (sometimes sooner)...

As soon as they stepped into the room and closed the stairway door, the small window opened. They couldn't see who opened it or if there was even a real person behind the frosted glass, but a nasal feminine voice called out:

Dean Winchester, the doctor will see you now.

oo0oo

Dean could probably count on one hand how many times he had been struck speechless in his life. He was never one to be at a loss for words. Ever. He always had something to say, whether it was something important or just something inane to fill the voids in conversation. Even when he was alone, he would often find himself carrying on a one-sided conversation. There were times that he was quiet, yes, but the internal monologue was still rolling and he could easily find his voice and the right words when needed.

Right now, Dean Winchester was speechless.

And annoyed. He should have seen something like this coming. After the personalized headstones down on the first floor, he knew that there had to be someone or something reading each of them to be able to create such specialized and specific phobia-inducing surroundings. Well, that was his first thought when his brain decided to reboot and start thinking again anyway.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly in that careful, concerned, sympathetic voice that whispered I'm here for you and always worked when talking with victims and their families.

It was the voice that Dean accepted as a viable resource but absolutely hated to have directed at him. He looked over and saw the worried, child-like eyes of his little brother. And how such a towering individual like Sam could still look like a little boy was beyond him.

Dean was about to say something to Sam, something that would probably be angry and rude, but his attention was taken once again by the little receptionist window. Kole had, instead of being irritatingly empathetic like his brother, gone carefully up to the window for a look inside. However, as soon as she stepped in front of it, the window forcibly closed, rattling the glass inside the frame and causing her to jump backwards into one of the chairs.

"Hey..." was all the reprimand Dean could force out before the door to the left opened inward in the same fashion as the window did.

"Right this way, Mr. Winchester," came a deep male disembodied voice from somewhere beyond the door.

Dean was finally at his boiling point. He let out a huff and started marching for the door, ready to get this nonsense over with. Halfway to the door, Sam reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing his brother to turn around and face him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked, with the obvious undertone of Are you a complete idiot? You can't go through there in his voice.

"I'm tired of this crap, Sammy," Dean snapped back. I'm not afraid of this unmistakably intermingled with healthy dose of I'm ready to kick some ass.

"Um, guys?" Kole said somewhat timidly, garnering both Winchesters' attention. She couldn't quite translate the looks yet, but it was quite apparent that there was a silent debate going on between the brothers. "I realize that it seems a bit ridiculous to let them lead us around like this..."

Which caused Sam to give Dean an I told you so look.

"But," she continued, "that door seems to be the only way into the rest of the floor. If we want to keep going and, well, have any hope of finding those boys, we have to keep moving forward."

Causing Dean to give Sam a back at you eyebrow raise and smirk.

Sam still didn't like it, but he didn't really see any way around it. He let go of Dean's arm and followed his brother to the door, pausing only to glance over at Kole and make sure she was following as well. But, the pause was enough to put a step between himself and Dean and in that short gap, the door slammed closed in Sam's face.

"Dean!" he yelled while yanking and twisting the doorknob. "Dean!"

"Sam?" was the muffled response, barely heard over the pounding of Dean's fists on the other side of the door.

Before Sam had a chance to answer, the banging stopped abruptly. Sam put his ear to the door and heard something fall heavily to the ground and then the soft rustle and scrape of something being dragged away.

No, not something. Without even seeing, Sam knew what it was.

Dean.

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Iatrophobia: fear of doctors or going to the doctor