Mac had sort of hazy memories of riding in the ambulance, arriving at the hospital, and he knew he'd been sleeping off and on. It felt like a lot of time must have passed based on the number of times his brain told him he'd been awake, but his surroundings informed him that it wasn't even morning yet, so it couldn't have been long, he thought.

The hospital room was now dim, but not dark. There was a low light on over the head of his bed. Jack was still where Mac last remembered him, passed out in the chair next to him, with his feet propped up on the edge of the bed. He vaguely remembered a nurse chewing Jack out about that at one point.

He didn't have the energy to explain to her at the time, but Jack's hands were bandaged and probably really painful, since Mac remembered asking what had happened and Jack had told him honestly that he'd gotten burned. After what happened, whether Jack was letting anyone in on it or not, he'd be in a fit of worry about his partner.

If Jack couldn't just sit there with his hand on Mac's arm (what he usually did if things had gone seriously sideways), then he was going to rest his feet on Mac's bed. If anyone tried to move the bed or Mac (including if Mac decided to move himself for some reason), that would wake Jack up in an instant.

The nurse thought Jack was just being a pain in the ass. Mac knew better, but he supposed that was a fair conclusion if the guy had been the one who'd had to patch up Jack's hands.

Mac squinted at the clock on the wall across the room. He couldn't make out the hands well enough to tell the time. His vision was still blurry and his head still felt vaguely swimmy. It seemed like it might be very early morning.

He didn't want to wake Jack, but he needed to change position. He carefully moved to turn onto his side, bracing himself so as not to jostle Jack's strategically positioned feet, and something started beeping. Damn it, he thought as Jack jolted awake.

"Hey there," Jack said immediately, like he'd been wide awake the whole time. "Where ya goin' buddy?"

Mac shook his head, with a wry smile, as he tried to untangle whatever wire was currently causing the alarm to go off. IV, heart monitor, pulse oximeter, and discarded oxygen that was sitting next to him. "Just rolling over, I promise … But they've made it a little complicated."

Jack got up and walked around the bed to the monitor and entered something into the touch screen. The beeping subsided. "There, that oughta keep the staff outta here for ya."

"How'd you do that?" Mac asked, thinking that was a good trick to know for future reference.

"I watched the nurse put in the code the last time you pulled your oxygen off." Jack grinned at him. "She was real grumpy about it too. You told her off a little."

"I did not," Mac said, his expression somewhere between skeptical of Jack's story, and embarrassed that he was probably telling the truth.

"Ya did, but don't feel too bad about it. Your night nurse makes the minions back at Phoenix Medical look like Santa's elves by comparison."

"Making me glad I've slept through most of her shift, for sure." Finally situating himself comfortably on his side facing Jack, he asked, "How are your hands?"

"Makin me feel real bad about that fist bump I landed on you in New Orleans for sure," Jack shrugged.

"They give you anything for it?"

"Nah," Jack replied. Not that he hadn't been offered pain medication. He just had no intention of taking any while he felt the need to look out for Mac. And he wasn't quite ready to tell Mac yet, but the kid had been needing a fair amount of looking after.

"Sam and Dean okay?"

Jack smiled gently. "They're good, bud. They're off getting rid of that nice box you made to bind that thing up ... This's the third time you've asked. "

"Oh," he said, trying to wrack his brain for what else he might have said that he just didn't remember. "How about all those kids? … I asked that already, too, didn't I?"

Jack nodded. "At least ten times. But that one I more than understand."

Mac had been pretty out of it, but that was the one thing that seemed to ground him, hearing the kids were alright, and that they were no longer under La Llorona's control. Jack couldn't decide if it was Mac's innate protective instinct that kept him worrying about those kids, or how horrifying his experience had been with them while La Llorona had been using them. It didn't seem to matter much though. He just needed to hear it again.

"They're all gonna be okay. A couple of them are still here too, downstairs in Pediatrics. A little dehydrated, definitely hungry, but they don't remember anything, so that's good."

"That is good," Mac agreed. He was thoughtful for a moment. "What are we telling the cops?"

"As little as possible," Jack answered. "Basically a crazy woman was hurting people. When we found you, she ran away. Your injuries were similar to the bodies they found." Jack stopped and swallowed hard, thinking Mac had been too damned close to being a statistic of that creature, too. "You should probably just claim you don't remember anything. That'll be easier."

Mac nodded. He didn't particularly want to talk about what happened to him, anyway. "Cops gonna be here this morning?" he asked, sounding very tired again.

"I think you can probably count on today to just rest again, kiddo, but they'll probably come tomorrow."

"I won't still be here tomorrow," he said, frowning. Mac had missed the 'again' in Jack's last statement, a detail that was not lost on Jack.

"We are not gonna start having this argument. You're gonna be here until somebody in a white coat says you can be somewhere else, ya hear?"

Mac gave Jack a momentary glare and then turned onto his back again and raised the head of the bed. "Realistically there's no good reason for me to hang around here, you know."

"You mean other than the IV and all the monitors you're hooked up to? And the fact that you almost bled to death? Other than that stuff, right?"

Mac sighed. "Yeah, other than that." Then he gave Jack a little grin. "I've already been here most of the night. That should be good enough."

"You've been here about a day and a half, bud," Jack amended gently. "And you've slept through most of it."

"Wait, no ... I ... I slept through a whole day?"

"Pretty much, kiddo."

Suddenly, Mac's face brightened. "Well, then I definitely ought to be able to leave later."

"Mac, are we really gonna do this again?"

This time he frowned. "Again? I've asked about leaving already, too?"

"Every time you've woken up, Mac. Slow down and let yourself think a little. It'll come to you. You just keep waking up, ready to go a million miles an hour like you usually do, and your body knows you're not ready is all."

Mac breathed slowly in and out, closing his eyes for a couple of minutes. He was almost dozing off, when a flood of memories from the last two days crowded into his head. His eyes flew open. It was much easier to focus on recalling what had happened since his rescue than to let in anything about his captivity.

"Okay, I do remember now." Jack gave an encouraging nod. "And I definitely should be able to get out of here."

"What makes you say that?" Jack asked. Previously Mac hadn't stuck with that train of thought long enough to come up with any coherent reasons. Jack wasn't about to let him go anywhere. The doctor said he should be monitored for a couple of days. But hearing Mac sounding like Mac again was a huge relief. It had been a lot of delirium and nightmares up to this point.

"Well, I've been treated, right? Like all the usual stuff …"

"You got a transfusion, isometric fluids," Jack began to explain.

"Isotonic, Jack," Mac corrected and Jack grinned in response. Mac took that as encouragement. "You know there's some really interesting studies going on regarding hyptertonic solutions and treatments that increase blood viscosity as viable alternatives to current protocols for hypovolemic shock. The statistics are promising that the new protocols could improve outcomes and reduce recovery times."

"But seein' as how you didn't have any hyperactive whatever, your recovery time is whatever the doc says it is."

"Which shouldn't be more than twenty-four hours. Which I've already been here for more than apparently. That means they should discharge me this morning."

"Says who?" Jack's feet went back up on the bed and he settled back in his chair, making it clear he had no plans on moving for a while.

"Everybody," Mac asserted. "Okay, not everybody. Probably hardly anybody. But I'm good, Jack. Just tired. We can talk to the cops, get out of here, get home, and I'll rest all weekend, I promise. You can stay with us and hover as much as you want."

Jack had to hand it to him, for a guy who'd been less than half awake ten minutes ago he was pretty convincing, if he was dealing with someone who wasn't familiar with Mac's particular brand of puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately for him, Jack was very familiar with it. However, he wasn't above a compromise that might make Mac marginally happier.

"Tell you what, I've gotta call Matty anyway. I'm tellin her the same thing I'm tellin the cops, by the way … and I'll ask her if we could maybe transfer you …"

"No, Jack. Not to Phoenix Medical. Home. Today. I want out of Texas and I don't want anyone else deciding whether or not I can even get up and move," he stopped himself. His tone had gotten very strident and Jack's face had the look of sudden realization.

"Okay, kid. I get it," Jack said quietly, then he paused. "You've had more than your share of being kept someplace you didn't want to be to begin with this last year."

Mac shivered again, and Jack wasn't sure if it was another chill, or simple memory that did it. "Yeah," he agreed, this time almost in a whisper.

Jack put his feet back down on the floor. "How about we see what the doc says when she shows up this morning and if it's totally unreasonable, I'll sneak you outta here myself?"

Mac smiled a little at that. "Deal … I guess."

"So maybe since it's only about 3:30, you could get a little more sleep so you don't look so damned tired when she gets here? Because I'm here to tell you she's not gonna let you go today. But the way you look at the moment, she might not want to let you out of here for a week."

Mac was thoughtful for a minute. Jack looked tired, too. Of course, Mac knew from experience that trying to sleep with the pain of burns was not an ideal experience for restorative slumber. And, he reminded himself, it had now been a couple of days. Jack was probably at the shit-this-still-hurts-but-now-it-also-itches-like-the-very-devil stage of things. Besides if he'd been waking up not entirely coherent and trying to bail, Jack probably hadn't gotten much rest regardless.

"Yeah. Okay," he agreed. He smirked when Jack's boots came back up onto the bed. "But I'm gonna talk her into letting me leave today."

"I am sure you'll do your best, bud," Jack said with a mock-exasperated sigh, before folding his arms across his chest, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes, making it clear that for now at least, he considered the conversation over.

Mac sighed. He didn't really feel like going back to sleep.

Now that he was awake and he realized how much time he'd been in and out of consciousness, he just wanted his brain back in fully functioning order. And he didn't much want to risk more of the dreams that were dancing just on the edges of his memories. But his head did still hurt a little. So he closed his eyes.

Of course the dreams came.

Mac wondered if he'd ever again sleep without seeing La Llorona and the images of Hell she'd shown him.

0-0-0

Dean stuck his head in the door of Mac's hospital room. It was after lunch, but there was a full untouched tray of food off to the side of Mac's bed. Mac was asleep, looking pale and somehow a lot younger than he appeared when wide awake. Jack, sitting in the chair next to the bed, thumbing through a Fish & Wildlife magazine currently looked about ten years older.

"Hey, cuz," Dean said quietly, pulling the other visitor's chair up next to Jack. "How's our boy here?"

Jack frowned deeply. "Okay, I guess. He's uh, having a hard time staying awake. The doc thinks … well, she said some of its physical for sure, he's runnin a bit of a fever and whatever, but nothin serious. His labs are okay and whatever. She thinks maybe it's just self-protective sleep, that whatever happened to him was so traumatic he's just not ready to deal with it."

"Has he been awake much?" Dean asked with real concern.

"Oh, yeah. He was up again just a little bit ago, tryin' to talk the doc into letting him outta here."

"How'd that go?" Dean smirked. Mac looked like he belonged right where he was, but Dean certainly understood the urge to ditch the body shop asap if you happened to find yourself there.

Jack shook his head. "She agreed with every word he said, and pretended like she was going to get the paperwork."

"She give him something to knock him out?"

"Nah, he just dozed back off." Jack sighed. "He remembers everything now when he wakes up at least. So I imagine when he wakes up again he's gonna be pissed that she actually didn't have any plans on discharging him ... Way my luck is goin, she'll be off duty when it happens so he'll be mad at me."

Jack was trying to make his tone light, but Dean not only knew Jack pretty well, he also knew that tone because he used it so frequently himself. He put a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "I'm so sorry I got him involved in this Jack."

"I appreciate it, man, but we saved twelve little kids. I can't be upset about that, and I know Mac's not either. Even when he wasn't remembering things between waking up he kept asking about them. Now that he remembers, he keeps asking for updates on how they're doin."

"Yeah, well, he's a good guy," Dean said. He squeezed Jack's shoulder again before leaning his elbows against his thighs. "I was worried he might be having a hard time."

"Yeah?" Jack said, a little surprised that their talking hadn't caused Mac to stir.

"When something like that … when it gets in your head … when something from Hell touches you ... it does things." Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"Like what?" Jack asked. He wanted to sound angry, but all he sounded was apprehensive.

"Leaves scars," Dean replied matter-of-factly. "But to get as far as scars, you gotta know, it starts out … as open wounds."

Jack just frowned at his cousin.

"So in a way, Jack … in a very real way … Mac's still bleedin, man."

Jack swallowed hard and his throat had gone so dry listening to Dean speak there was an audible click. His voice sounded thin. "You showed up to tell me this … And I know you know how I feel about this kid … I'm guessin' you've got a suggestion?"

"Sam's workin' on it. I just wanted to come by and let you know, I got him hurt, so I won't quit until he's okay, alright?"

Jack glanced at him. "Thanks, man."

Dean sat with him for a few more minutes, then he silently got to his feet, patted his cousin on the shoulder again, and left.

0-0-0

Mac sighed. It was dark again. He knew it without opening his eyes. So much for 'I'll be back with your walking papers in fifteen minutes Mr. MacGyver'.

To be fair since he'd passed back out within five minutes of the doctor leaving and pretty clearly slept the whole day away (or had he? He didn't trust his own memory at the moment) humoring him had probably been the way to go.

He felt eyes on him again. Jack really needed to go get some actual sleep. And he definitely needed to stop doing the hover and watch his partner sleep thing. He thought he'd broken Jack of that habit after the whole nerve gas incident. Time to revisit the 'I'm a grown-assed man and I don't need a goddamned binky' conversation.

At first he'd appreciated Jack being there to ground him when he'd first started his strange bouts of half delirious waking. Now he was coherent; he just felt miserable, and knowing Jack was hanging around making himself miserable, too, wasn't helping. Mac had to admit that he was a little freaked out that he still felt so damned awful; he'd lost blood before and not felt this wonky. He'd been more with it after Lake Como, in fact. But that didn't mean Jack needed to wear himself out while Mac slept off this incident.

He was going to tell Jack to go back to the motel and get some real sleep. He would also promise to stay here until the doctor thought leaving was a good idea. He might not mean it, but he thought he felt enough like himself to sell it to Jack.

Mac peeled his eyes open.

He sucked in his breath is surprise. "Hey, Cas. Where's Jack?"

Cas smiled softly. Of course that was the boy's first concern.

"As soon as I got back, I healed his hands, and told the boys to make him eat something that wasn't hospital cafeteria food. My goal is for Jack Dalton to live a long fulfilling life. The way he has been eating the last few days is counter to that goal."

Mac shifted a little. He was stiff and sore from so much sleeping. "Good. Thanks, Cas."

Cas gave him a long look. He tried to ignore it, but wasn't quite able. He raised an eyebrow's worth of question at the angel.

"You are not setting any records for making me feel encouraged about the length of your existence either, Angus."

Mac bit back another request to be called Mac. "If I were dedicated to making you worry, I'd have left this place already. In case you missed it when you were rifling through my thoughts like they're your underwear drawer, I don't exactly love hospitals."

"I hadn't noticed," Cas said, with perfect neutrality.

Mac snickered. Then he snorted. Then he out and out laughed. "You were just sarcastic. You did sarcasm, Cas!"

Cas nodded sagely. "I suppose I did." He paused, leaning toward Mac in the dim room, knowing Mac could see his face in the faint glow of the light of Heaven he carried with him. "Now all I have to concern me is you."

Mac shifted again, feeling uncomfortable scrutiny from the angel this time. "I'm okay, Cas … But if you wanted to heal up whatever has the doc keeping me here I'm the last guy who would complain."

Cas smiled at him gently. "Your physical injuries are easy to heal, Angus. And I am happy to take care of them, with all due haste."

Mac frowned. "But?"

Cas gave Mac a long look. It was uncomfortably like the looks Jack often gave him.

"Cas, c'mon."

Cas heaved a long sigh. It was weirdly unsettling to hear an angel sound so lost.

"Cas?" Mac's normally well concealed vulnerability bled into his tone.

"The emotional wounds of the things La Llorona showed you, did to you … those are deep and complicated. They are actually why you feel so poorly, why you have not recovered sufficiently to leave the hospital."

Mac thought for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. "I'm being physically affected by the things she did to my mind."

Cas nodded. "Yes. You are." He paused for a minute then gave Mac an amused raise on a single eyebrow. "But being here makes you almost as uncomfortable as the things that force you to be. You are a complicated man, Angus."

Mac sighed. "Are you ever going to remember to just call me Mac?"

Cas smiled. "Perhaps." He thought for several long minutes. Mac started to feel a little sleepy again and was furious that that feeling had already returned. "Angus … Mac … Do you trust me?" Cas reached out and took Mac's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Mac frowned. "Don't do that." It had the sound of an order. "Tell me what you want to do, then I'll tell you if I'm okay with it."

Cas sat with that for a minute. Then he spoke, squeezing the young man's hand again. "I could heal what she has done, but you'll forget … That's the best way I can think of to …"

"No!" Mac snapped. Cas's eyes widened and Mac explained. "That's … You've read my thoughts, right?"

"Yes," Cas replied.

"So you know what happened to me last fall? When Murdoc took me … tortured me?"

There was a hesitation in Mac's words, but it was minimal.

"Yes, Angus … Mac … I know what he did."

"Then … You have to know making me forget, me not knowing what happened … that's the same … he tried to keep me from remembering … and I …" Mac's voice caught, strangled in his throat.

"I understand, but … She's harmed you, Mac. Irrevocably … Unless …"

"Will it just kill me, or something? Or can I get over it?"

Cas waited a minute. "You'll get over it eventually, but … It might mean you need to leave the work you do, find something else …"

"No!" Mac snapped. "I love my work, I'm good at it. I want a life outside it, God, just so much sometimes … but, I'm … It's important, that I do my job. It's real."

Cas squeezed Mac's hand again. "I understand." Mac's warm blue eyes caught his cool ones, and the desperate plea for help was in them, for all of Mac's efforts to keep it out. "There is something I can try … It would let you keep all of these memories, but would rob them of their power."

"Perfect," Mac said with assurance.

"The problem is … It could subvert your other thoughts. It would not erase your memories … I know you don't want that … but the things I let you see, could consume you … knowing what I know of you … The thoughts I can offer could have healing power, or they could destroy you."

Mac gave him his full attention. "What do you want to show me?"

Cas was torn between being honest, and warning Mac off. He liked him almost too much to allow him to take this risk. The Mac's expression demanded the full truth. He was brave enough to benefit from this, if anyone was.

"I would show you your mother's Heaven. And it will either allow you to move on from this pain, or it could destroy you."

Mac looked at him again, and the moment seemed to go on for a year. "Okay. Do it."