"Ok, this is really cool, and it's nice to see that people give a shit, but what the hell am I supposed to do with all this?" Dean exclaimed. "I've got no car, and I'm staying at the motel the Red Cross put me up in. It's got a tiny microwave and an equally tiny fridge. I don't even have any dishes! What am I supposed to do with six casseroles, a huge container of potato salad and, holy crap, is that a cheesecake?"
When the news crews had arrived last night, just after Dean had seen his rescuer off in the ambulance, Dean had been more annoyed and embarrassed than anything else. But apparently, having TV cameras shoved in your face when you're standing in pouring rain wearing only your t-shirt and underwear had its advantages. Pretty much everyone had been treated to the sight of a soaking wet pissed off Dean in his skivvies when they'd watched the morning news today. And apparently, they'd recognized him. It seemed like most of his fellow cubicle dwellers had come up to Dean, asking if he was alright and offering food. Even Sanders from the second floor had provided the potato salad.
"I'm happy to take that cheesecake off of your hands," Sam offered.
"No way, that thing is mine!" Dean gathered the cheesecake possessively into his arms.
"Asshole. I should not give you this money." Sam waved an envelope. "We took up a collection for you."
Leave it to Sammy to initiate a collection for him. Once again, Dean had cause to think that his brother would make a far better office manager than Bella. He grinned. "Really? Dude, that's awesome! I was able to salvage most of my clothes because the closet was behind the bed, but I lost pretty much everything else I ever owned, including my work shoes. That's why I came to work in these." Dean indicated his feet, displaying the grungy sneakers with a hole in one toe that he never had gotten around to throwing out.
Sam winced. "Please tell me you didn't lose Bessie? Not after the asshole who robbed you missed her!"
"Sam, the gods of fate have already been trying to smite me. Let's not remind them that they missed Bessie in that closet again and give them another chance."
"Then she's ok?" Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!"
"You said it, man."
"Dean! I heard you were in a fire!" Bela swept into the break room like a miniature perfumed hurricane and moved quickly to Dean's side. "I'm so glad you're alright! I... Oh! Cheesecake! Thank you!"
Dean lifted the cheesecake out of the shorter woman's reach. "That's my cheesecake, Bela, but you're welcome to some potato salad?"
Her eyes moved to Sam. "Isn't your break over?"
"Sure is." Sam nodded to Dean. "I'll hold that envelope for you, buddy, and get it to you after work. And we'll swing by the shoe store before I take you to your motel."
"Thanks, man, you're awesome!" Dean called.
"Hey, you know it!"
Bela followed Sam to the door, and Dean foolishly hoped she'd follow him out. But instead, she stopped and turned the lock. The click it made when it closed seemed very loud. Heart pounding, Dean carefully set his cheesecake on the table and turned to face her.
Bela was quick to return to him. "The old man's out of town for two days starting Monday," she purred, wrapping herself around Dean. "Business meetings. I'll be such a lonely girl! You don't have to stay in some roach infested motel, Dean."
"Honestly, I think I prefer the company of the roaches." He pried at her arms. "Let go of me, Bela. I need to get back to work."
"Don't worry. The door's locked." She had his tie again and was pulling his head down.
"C'mon, leave me alone, I don't have time for this!" he complained, turning his head away and trying to reclaim his tie. "The Stamford account..."
Her hands were on his chest now, pushing him back against the wall. Then she pulled his shirt free and slid her hands up under it. "It can wait."
He groaned. "Get off of me! I was just in an explosion last night, and today I'm exhausted and covered with bruises. Won't you please just leave me alone so I can heal?"
She frowned, her hands still up under his shirt. "You know, I've been thinking about that raise. Maybe you don't really deserve the high end?"
Dean sputtered. "Are you fucking kidding me? I bust my ass every day for this place, and you're going to cut back on my raise because I asked you for some time to heal after I was in an explosion and lost damned near everything I own?" He irritably pushed her hands out of his shirt. "What the hell do you want from me, Bela?"
She smiled and reached up, starting to unbutton his shirt. "I think you know exactly what I want."
He grabbed her hands. "Dammit, stop! I'm serious, ok? Leave me alone!"
"Oh, quit pretending like you don't like it!" Then she stopped, blinking at the bruises on his chest.
"See?" Dean exclaimed. He pulled up his shirt, showing her the extent of the bruises all over his chest and abdomen. "I got thrown against a wall and then onto the floor, and then the bed fell on top of me. I'm all banged up! Please, just leave me alone? It's Friday anyway. Let me have today and the weekend, and then Monday we'll do whatever you want, ok?"
"Whatever I want?" Her smile grew wider, and Dean had cause to bitterly regret his hasty choice of words. "Alright, handsome. I'll leave you alone today. But you better limber up over the weekend. You are going to have a very busy lunch break on Monday!" And with that, she picked up the box containing Dean's cheesecake and strutted out, high heels clicking as she walked.
"She took your cheesecake? What a bitch!"
"Preaching to the choir, buddy. Then I compounded it when I told her if she left me alone today, I'd do whatever she wanted Monday."
Sam facepalmed. "You really are an idiot, aren't you, jerk?"
"Fuck you, bitch. I was just so desperate to get her to leave me alone that I wasn't thinking. Give me a break, my brains got rattled in that explosion!"
"You know she's going to want something weird, right?"
"Shut up."
"Dude, you're fucked, pun intended."
"Sam? Shut. Up."
Sam shook his head. "Damn, that still sucks about the cheesecake. Who made it?"
"Laverne."
Sam's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit! That woman can cook! That cheesecake was probably incredible!"
"Hey Sam, while we're out, do you think maybe we need to pick up some more salt?" Dean complained bitterly. "You're dumping so much into my wounds right now you're bound to be running low."
"A Laverne cheesecake," Sam moaned. "Man, no wonder it looked so good! You know, if you'd have just given it to me, I would have at least shared it with you."
"Bite me. Let's just get these shoes. I really need a beer."
The two quickly found two pairs of shoes for Dean. But when they reached the register to check out, Dean frowned, seeing his brother pull out his wallet. "Sam, I was going to use this money from the envelope to pay for the shoes. You don't have to get them for me!"
"Don't worry about it, man. Besides, they're not that pricey." Sam quickly purchased Dean's shoes and handed him the boxes. "A pair for work, and a decent pair of sneakers. Use that money to get whatever else you need."
"Thanks, buddy," Dean said humbly. "You're a great brother. That's real generous of you. But you shouldn't have done it."
Sam tipped an imaginary hat. "You're not the boss of me, Dean. I'll do what I want."
Dean laughed. "I love you, Sam."
"What's not to love?" The two climbed into Sam's car. "So, you were trapped under your bed and the apartment was on fire? I have to say, I would have been scared to death."
"I was just about ready to piss my pants," Dean admitted. "No matter how hard I tried, I could not get out. And I yelled and yelled for someone to help me, but no one could hear me under the mattress, especially not with Cynthia and Tim screaming at each other again outside. And none of my asshole neighbors even thought to check on me! If it wasn't for that guy in the trench coat, I wouldn't be here today."
Sam looked over at him. "You didn't get his name?"
Dean shook his head. "I told you, he passed out on me. Must have breathed in too much smoke or something. Last I saw him, they were loading him into an ambulance."
The two had buckled up and Sam had started the engine. But then Sam sat quietly behind the wheel.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Let's go see him," Sam decided, putting the car in gear. "Make sure he came through everything alright."
Dean eyed his brother. "It's way out of your way, buddy."
"I have this thing about people who save the lives of people I care about," Sam confessed. "This guy saved your life, so let's make sure he's ok. It's the least we can do."
Dean couldn't argue with that. He'd been thinking about going to the hospital to check on his hero, but hadn't wanted to ask Sam to go so far out of his way. He was glad that his brother had gotten the same idea.
At first, Dean didn't think they'd be able to visit with his unknown savior for precisely that reason – they had no idea who he was. But when Dean explained what had happened and described the man, they were brought directly to the room of John Doe.
"He hasn't told anyone his name," the nurse explained. "We can't even get him to write it down. Honestly, we're not certain he understands English, but he hasn't said much of anything in any language. In fact, the only thing he's said since he was admitted is..."
"Rockstar!"
Dean looked and saw his rescuer smiling brightly at him from the hospital bed in the room, a sight that made Dean feel a bit weak in the knees. Dean had known for years that he was bisexual, although no one outside of Sam and Jess knew. Usually, Dean preferred females. But for Mr. Doe, he could certainly make an exception.
The blue eyes shone as they fixed on Dean. But then they darkened as his shoulders jerked. Dean was confused for a moment until he looked down a bit. "Hey, why the hell did you tie him down?" he exclaimed.
"When he first woke up, he went wild and injured several staff members," the nurse explained. "We didn't have any choice but to sedate and restrain him. But maybe now that you're here, we can try letting him loose. You're the first visitor he's had, and he obviously knows you. Not to pry, but is he your boyfriend?"
"What?" Dean sputtered, ignoring the look Sam was giving him. "No! First time I ever saw the guy was when he saved my life back at my apartment. But he did save my life when no one else could be bothered. So I'll take responsibility for anything he does, ok? Now let's let him go." That made Sammy's eyebrows go up even higher. Dean pretended not to notice.
The nurse moved forward, but the stranger's eyes went hard and he frowned, his hands clenching into fists. She quickly backed off. "Maybe you should try this? We tried to release him earlier, but every time, he went after us, yelling 'Rockstar' and throwing people around. He's very strong! It took several staff members to get him restrained and sedated. But since you seem to be his 'Rockstar,' Mr. Winchester, perhaps you'll have better luck? Just be very careful!"
"Maybe letting him go isn't such a good idea?" Sam cautioned, eyeing the man in the bed.
"If he hadn't been so strong, he wouldn't have been able to lift that bed off of me and I would have died," Dean pointed out. "I'm going to at least try to let him go, Sam. I owe him that much." Dean moved closer, smiling at the stranger, who smiled back. "Hey, buddy! You gonna behave yourself and not go crazy on me if I let you go?"
"Let me out," Doe pleaded. "Please help me! I don't want to die like this!"
"Whoa, you're not gonna die! Hang on, I'll get you out." Dean quickly undid the restraints on Doe's wrists. "There. See? You're fine!"
Doe rubbed at his wrists and beamed at Dean. When he suddenly grabbed Dean and jerked him forward, Dean nearly panicked. The man was indeed unusually strong, maybe a match for Dean. He must work out. But fortunately, Doe was only pulling Dean into a tight embrace. "You saved my life! Thank you!"
"Heh, it wasn't exactly that dramatic, but hey, no problem!" Dean patted Doe's back. Doe let him go, still smiling brightly.
"That's amazing!" the nurse said. "The only thing he's said since he was admitted was 'Rockstar,' but you come in and he's speaking complete sentences! He still seems a bit confused, but it's a massive improvement. He's suffered a fairly severe brain injury, and the condition he's displaying, his inability to speak, is called expressive aphasia."
"Ooo, not good," Sam commented, wincing. "My wife's grandfather had that after his stroke. He never fully recovered."
"There," Doe said. "See? You're fine!"
Dean blinked in confusion. Then he frowned. "You know, I just realized something," he told Doe. "Dude, every single thing you have said so far has been something that I said either now or last night."
"Last night," Doe said, still smiling.
Dean's shoulders slumped. "You have no idea what you're actually saying, do you?"
"No idea!" The smile remained.
"That," Sam called, "is the biggest parrot I have ever seen in my life." Dean scowled at him.
"It's still progress," the nurse insisted. "Echolalia, the way he's repeating your words, is something that can happen with brain injury. The fact that he can capture words enough to repeat them is more than he's done since he was admitted. Like I said, he's got substantial damage. Frankly, it's amazing that he's even conscious, let alone speaking. Now, I need to inform the doctor. He's with the social worker, and they were about to make a decision that you just might be able to help us with, Mr. Winchester."
"Me?" Dean blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I think I'll have the social worker explain. I'll send her in. You two go ahead and enjoy your visit."
Sam found a couple of folding chairs and brought them over. He put one down for Dean directly next to the bed, and set his own a bit farther back.
Dean sat down with a sigh and turned his attention back to the man on the bed. "Um, hi," he began.
Doe beamed at him. "Hi!"
"Listen, I know it probably won't mean anything to you now that, you know, your head is all messed up," he began, "but I wanted to thank you. You really saved my life, man. I was trapped and terrified I was about to die. But then you came along like a gift from God! So, for what it's worth, thank you so much. I wish I could repay you." He paused. "Do you even know what I'm talking about? Do you remember last night?"
"You're not gonna die, buddy," Doe said. "Hang on, I'll get you out. There. See? You're fine."
Dean blinked, exchanging an incredulous look with Sam. "Yeah, that is actually pretty much how it went last night."
"Huh," Sam mused. "Maybe he does get that you're saying thank you." He smiled at Doe. "Thank you from me, too. You saved my brother. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am that you were there."
"Like a gift from God," Doe intoned.
"Exactly!" Dean shook his head. "Man, I know you don't have any idea what you're actually saying, but somehow, for the most part, it seems to fit. It's almost like you do understand."
"You do understand." The blue eyes were serious as Doe reached out and took Dean's hand. "I'm asking for some basic human decency."
"That more of what you said last night?" Sam asked quietly.
"Yeah, it is," Dean said, his eyes locked on Doe. "But dude?"
"Yeah, I know. But Dean, parrots can do the same sort of thing," Sam reminded him. "It doesn't mean he completely understands, ok? With a severe head injury, there's really no telling."
"I know, I know." Dean chuckled, looking at his hand in Doe's. "You probably can't tell me what your name is, can you? No? Do you even have a name?"
"No idea." Doe squeezed Dean's hand. "Tell me what your name is."
"I'm Dean," Dean replied automatically. "Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Sam Winchester."
Doe's smile grew wider. "Rockstar Dean Winchester!"
Dean laughed. "Dude, I wish! That would make my life so much easier. I'd have a car and a place to live, my own cheesecake whenever I wanted it, and wouldn't have to worry about what the hell my bitch of a boss is going to make me do come Monday!" Dean rubbed at his temples, wincing.
"You know, you are in the hospital," Sam pointed out. "Maybe ask someone about those headaches?"
"It's a headache, Sam," Dean grumbled. "It's not going to kill me."
"Going to kill me," Doe said, suddenly looking serious. "Don't want to die like this!"
"Dude, why do you keep saying that?" Dean sighed. "You're not going to die."
But when the strange man in the hospital gown squeezed his hand and Dean looked into his eyes, Dean thought he saw fear. "Please get me out," Doe pleaded. "I'm trapped! Please help me?"
Dean and Sam exchanged a look. "He has no idea what he's saying, remember?" Sam said.
"But what if he does?" Dean asked. "What if, whatever's wrong with him, he can't pull the words on his own, but he knows what they mean and he's trying to tell us something?"
"You do understand," Doe said. "He's trying to tell us something."
Dean and Sam looked at Doe, and then back at each other. "Dean, what are you thinking about?" Sam asked. "This guy clearly has some major neurological issues here. He needs skilled care, medical care that you can't provide. What are you going to do? Take him back to your motel room?"
"I don't know, but I can't leave him here alone," Dean declared. "What if he freaks out and they have to tie him down again? I can't let that happen. Besides, he might have gotten hurt in the same accident I was in. Maybe he was walking nearby when that, whatever it was that destroyed my place, when it happened?" He looked at his brother. "He saved my life, Sam. Don't I owe him something for that?" Dean shrugged. "I just want to help him. Is that so bad? So, yeah, I'll take him with me once he's discharged."
"Thank you so much," Doe said, smiling again. "I wish I could repay you."
"Dean, he's hurt," Sam pointed out. "You can't just decide to take him out. They're not going to just let him go home with you."
There was a soft knock on the door. "Excuse me?" a blonde woman called. "Hi. I'm Donna Hanscum, the hospital social worker. Just call me Donna. Do you know our John Doe?"
"We've met, but I don't know his real name or anything," Dean replied.
She looked confused. "Didn't I just hear you talking about taking him when he's discharged?"
"I'm willing, sure," Dean said.
Sam made a face, but said nothing.
"Well, you're the first person that he's reacted positively to," Donna said. "The doctor was actually talking about a 302, an involuntary psychiatric commitment, if he didn't calm down and stop attacking people soon. If there was some way of proving that he consents to going with you...?"
Doe held up their clasped hands. "Is that so bad?" he called.
Donna blinked. "Oh! Mr. Doe, I'm sorry, I hadn't realized you'd recovered! And I have to say, it's nice to see you not restrained or fighting with everyone. I was very concerned!" She came in and readied her pen over her clipboard. "Can you tell me your name?"
"That would make my life so much easier," Doe said solemnly. "I'd have a car and a place to live, my own cheesecake whenever I wanted it."
"Oh, I'm sorry. And I can sympathize with the cheesecake part. It's one of my vices, too," she said, scribbling. "So, no memory of your name?"
"No," Doe replied sadly.
"Well, that is certainly unfortunate, but the doctors here could tell you that it might just take time," she soothed. She smiled at him. "Mr. Doe, the staff says that you've suffered a rather severe closed head injury. Now, the doctor can explain it better, but he's dealing with an emergency right now, so suffice to say, it's caused when the brain impacts the inside of the skull, causing injury. It can heal, in time, but it's the reason why you had so much trouble before, and why you can't remember your name. Now, we've been monitoring you, and your brain is showing no sign of swelling, which surprised everyone, apparently. Bottom line, you've got a long road to recovery ahead of you. But you're medically cleared for discharge. Like I said, the talk was towards a 302. You were so violent that we were just about to make arrangements to send you to mental health, actually. So I'm glad your Rockstar came when he did!"
"Like a gift from God," Doe intoned.
"Precisely!" She paused, seeing that Doe's eyes had locked on the metal pendant dangling from a chain around her neck. "Oh, do you like angels? This is Castiel."
Doe didn't answer. He stayed as he was, his hand in Dean's and his eyes locked on the pendant.
Donna considered a moment, and seemed to come to a decision. "Here," she said, unclasping the necklace. "It was from a crummy ex-boyfriend anyway." She closed the clasp again and handed it over.
Doe, apparently not willing to let go of Dean's hand, reached out to accept the necklace with his other hand. Then without a word he placed it over Dean's head. Dean blinked down at it in surprise.
"Aw, that's sweet!" Donna cooed. "Now, if you'd like to get dressed, I'll send the staff in with your discharge paperwork. Then you can go home with him." She turned her smile on Dean. "Mr. Winchester? Thank you. You're doing a great thing!"
"Least I could do," Dean said cautiously. He was fingering the pendant with his free hand, his eyes on Doe. "He saved my life when we met."
Sam held his tongue until she'd gone. Then he took a deep breath, about to speak. But Dean held up a hand. "I know, I know, but I'm sorry, you heard all that. They were about to send him to the nut house, Sam. He doesn't belong there. Besides, can you really honestly tell me that you don't believe he understands what he's saying?"
Sam ground his teeth. Then he turned to Mr. Doe. "Ok, buddy. Do you or do you not understand what you're saying?"
"Yeah," Doe said. "I'll take him with me once he's discharged. For what it's worth, thank you!"
Dean gave him a smug smile. "Any questions?"
