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The next few days were quiet. Bobby, Sam, and Dean stayed on alert, but there were no reports of any freaky accidents or horrific murders. It was almost too quiet. The days were spent pouring over lore on angels and leviathan and fixing up cars when the research became too overwhelming. Dean spent the nights keeping Sam's subconscious mind busy with memories and dreams.
"I think I'll hit the local watering hole," Dean announced one evening grabbing his jacket.
"Ain't you forgetting something?" Bobby asked.
"I know I can't drink," Dean said, "but there are other reasons for going out. Socializing, for one, I mean don't get me wrong...You two are great, but I could use a little female companionship."
"Just know that when you come home, you best come home alone." Bobby said. He knew the boys weren't monks, but he didn't want to deal with all the awkwardness of a woman being in the house. At least, not one that Sam or Dean brought in.
"Bobby! I can't believe you think I would participate in sinful behavior. Perhaps you've forgotten: I'm an angel." Dean gave a wink before grabbing his keys and heading for the door. He knew he could have just popped over there, but he liked the time driving gave him. Behind the wheel of the Impala he could breath and feel a sense of normalcy. Dean took the time to drive a little closer into town, knowing that if he stayed too far out on the fringes he would only find drunks and loners.
Dean swirled the beer around in his bottle. He had ordered it out of habit, but luckily had remembered no to take a sip. There were a few women here and there, but they were all being entertained or bored to death by the other men in the joint. He was starting to think that being a non-drinker at a bar was about as fun as being a blind person at an art museum. He was so lost in his thoughts about his depraved state that he didn't even notice the tall brunette that slid up beside him.
"You have a full beer right in front of you and you still look like you could use a drink."
Dean turned to look at the woman to his right.
"I'm Veronica." She said.
"Dean."
"Dean," Veronica locked eyes with him and instantly started studying them, "you probably get this all the time, but your eyes are incredible."
"Nah, usually women just complement my ass. Thanks for keeping your eyes up here."
"Well, you do have a nice butt. But those eyes."
"Yours aren't so bad either." Dean said.
"Eyes or butt?" Veronica asked.
"Both. Buy you a drink?"
"I'll take that one you've been holding for me."
Dean handed over his beer.
"So, Veronica, tell me about yourself."
"Not much to tell," Veronica said, "I'm a Capricorn. I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. You?"
"Sounds like we were made for each other. I love all the same things." Dean smiled. "So tell me Veronica, what else do you like to do here in Sioux Falls? Aside from picking up men in bars."
"Hmm tough question. Not much else. When I'm not here, hitting on attractive men, I usually end up going to work."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean people's lives depend on me." Veronica said with a sarcastic shrug and a smile.
"Is that so?" Dean asked, he was becoming more and more interesting in this woman by the second. She was smart and funny and gorgeous.
"All jokes aside, yes, I'm an ER doctor down at Sioux Falls General."
"Brilliant and beautiful. What did I do to deserve the opportunity to meet you?"
"Nothing yet, but I'm sure you'll prove yourself." Veronica smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She raised the beer bottle to her lips to take her first sip since stealing it away from Dean when her phone beeped urgently. "I've got to take this."
Dean nodded that he understood. It wasn't often that he met wildly successful women in the dive bars he frequented. Truth be told, he was a little intimidated, but then there was something outrageously sexy about a strong successful woman.
"Nobody can be reached? … I'm not on call… I understand. I'll be right in." Veronica turned to Dean. "I hate to do this, but I'm needed down at the hospital."
"Hey," Dean threw his hands up in surrender, "you've got lives to save."
Veronica smiled. Dean watched as she walked away. Once she was gone there was no reason to hang round the bar any longer. Dean fired up the Impala and cruised on back to Bobby's place. Pulling up to the front of the house Dean knew something was wrong. Every light was burning bright. He switched off the engine, jumped up the stairs, and through the front door.
"Bobby!? Sam!?" Dean listened for an answer but heard nothing. He quickly marched through every room and found them all empty. He was in the act of pulling out his phone when Bobby came bursting into the house.
"Bobby, what the hell?" Dean asked the flustered hunter.
"It's Sam."
That was all Dean needed to hear in order for him to go into full on panic mode.
"What happened? Where is he?" Dean asked.
"Hell if I know." Bobby was clearly freaking out enough without Dean there to rile him up further, "Bout twenty minutes after you left, Sam came running downstairs and knocked me out cold."
Dean had been so concerned over Sam that he hadn't even taken the time to notice the lovely bruise forming along Bobby's jawline.
"When I woke up, he was gone. I searched the house and the yard. He didn't take a car so he can't be too far."
"Right," Dean said taking a breath, "We'll find him."
"Didn't Cas tag yer ribs? Just wave your magic halo or something." Bobby said.
Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts in on Sam.
"I can't." Dean said in exasperation, "I don't know how."
"Come on boy, try harder." Bobby urged.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried again. He couldn't see Sam but when he really tried hard to tap into his brother's mind he felt a shiver run down his spine. Sam was scared, scratch that, he was freaking out, and he was in physical pain too. Dean took a deep breath and focused. Images popped into his head: clean white tile, bloody hands, Veronica, Sioux Falls General.
"I know where he is." Dean reached out and grabbed Bobby's upper arm and in the next instant they were standing outside of Sioux Falls General Hospital.
"Maybe a little warning next time," Bobby said.
"Sorry." Dean led the way into the ER and up to the desk agent.
"I'm looking for my brother," Dean said.
"Sam Jones," Bobby interjected.
"Yeah, brown hair, about as tall as a sasquatch."
"Well," the man at the desk looked down at his computer screen, "there's nobody here under that name, but we had a John Doe come in recently matching that description. Let me just –"
"Ian, where are we with – " Veronica cut off the receptionist as she briskly approached his desk. She stopped when she saw Dean and anther man standing there looking nervous. "Dean?"
"Veronica. My brother. Is he back there? His name is Sam." Dean wanted to know everything, and he wanted to know now, "Can I see him?"
"Ok, slow down. Your brother, would he have been out near Singer Salvage not too long ago?"
"Yes! Yes, that's him. I need to see him."
"Dean, you need to calm down a little. I know this is frightening, but Sam is ok. I just gave him a mild sedative. Why don't we both go back and see him and you can help fill out his medical history. That will help me treat him better."
Dean nodded.
Veronica looked to Bobby.
"He's our uncle," Dean explained.
Veronica nodded and led the group back to Sam's room.
"Somebody found him passed out on the side of the road not too far from the salvage yard." Veronica opened Sam's door and turned to the nurse in the room, "We found his family."
"Good," the nurse said her voice full of sympathy, "he can use their support."
The nurse left the room, giving them some privacy.
"What's wrong with him? What happened?" Dean asked.
"I treated him for multiple lacerations, and a broken ankle…"
"Must'ave tripped and fell." Bobby said.
"Yes," Veronica continued, "and I'm assuming he fell after a significant loss of blood. The veins in his wrists were torn to shreds. Based on the debris embedded in his skin, he was using rocks and sticks to cut his wrists open."
Dean took a deep breath and looked at his resting giant of a brother. Watching his brothers chest rise and fall, Dean felt a small amount of peace. He was alive. They could make this ok.
"He's going to be ok," Dean said. Veronica wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.
"Luckily we got to him in time. Physically, he should be fine. Do you know what would cause your brother to harm himself?" Veronica asked.
Dean turned to Bobby.
"PTSD," Bobby said with confidence, "Sam came back from active duty a few years ago. Hasn't been the same since. We look after him; help with medications and therapy and all that. He was doing better, but an old buddy of his caught some friendly fire a few days ago. We thought he was dealing with it alright. I told Dean I'd keep an eye on him tonight, but I fell asleep to damn early. Didn't have a chance to give him his night meds."
"That makes sense," Veronica looked down at Sam with sadness in her eyes. "He woke up when he was brought in and he kept fighting us, telling us to let him die. He kept apologizing over and over. Begging us not to let anyone else suffer because of him."
Dean couldn't stop the single tear that fought its way out and down his cheek.
"I'm sorry Dean," Bobby said, "this is my fault."
"Nobody is to blame here," Veronica said, "we will have to keep him here for 24 hours. It's hospital policy."
"I understand." Dean said. He took a seat at Sam's bedside. "I'll stay with him."
"I can help you with those records." Bobby said.
Veronica nodded and followed Bobby out of the room.
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