Chapter 3
Something was pulling Sam from the deep sleep he had fallen into. He couldn't quite remember where he was, but the aroma around him gave off a warm, comfortable, and very familiar feeling. He was having a hard time placing it, so he forced his brain to drift closer to consciousness. When he did, he knew what it was. It was the sweet scent of apple-cinnamon. The he remembered where he was. It was the candles Lou burned when she cooked, to keep the smell out of the house. That meant she was up. And cooking?
He had never made it upstairs the night before. He crashed on the couch sometime during the night, not really wanting to put the effort into going to bed. He was quite comfortable where he was, so he decided to just stay there.
It didn't take him long to wander into the kitchen once he came fully to his senses. He just followed the scent like a bloodhound. Beyond the apple-cinnamon, he was bombarded with the unmistakable smell of bacon, eggs, and everyone's favorite, fresh coffee.
"Good morning Sam. You sleep well? Have some coffee, it's fresh," Lou stated rather cheerily.
"Why are you up making breakfast? It's like, 6 a.m.," Sam suspiciously questioned.
"Are you complaining? I suddenly have a houseful of people, so it's the least I could do."
"Two people isn't a houseful Lou, and I seriously doubt Dean will be eating a whole lot this morning. That leaves me, and I don't think I can eat all that by myself. You have enough there to feed a football team."
"You forgot about Alex, and Dan came back sometime during the night. That makes a houseful," she informed him before returning to her pan of eggs frying on the stove.
"I guess you'll be joining us for breakfast then? Isn't it rude for the chef not to eat her own cooking?" Sam pushed, eyeing her curiously. She didn't look any better then she had the night before and he was trying to figure out what was keeping her on her feet.
"Hey Sam, why don't you go check on your brother while I finish up here? Maybe ten more minutes, OK?" She ignored his question, turning her back to him and tossing more bread in the toaster.
"Good way to change the subject." Sam gave her his saddest frownie face when she tossed him an irritated look. It didn't work on her like it worked on Dean. On her, it had no effect at all.
"Please Sam. He should be waking up soon and I really want to know how he feels."
"Fine, but if you don't eat, I won't eat."
"Don't act like you're five Sam. Now go and check on Dean, please," she ordered more than asked.
Sam did as he was told, taking the trip downstairs as requested. Dean was still sleeping, but not the semi-comatose slumber he'd been in the night before. He looked like he was on the verge of opening his eyes any second, he just needed a little push that Sam was more than willing to give. Gently shaking his brother's arm, he spoke to him inquiringly. "Dean, are you awake?"
"God, I hope not. Please tell me that was all a nightmare last night," Dean nearly begged, his voice still somewhat hoarse and a little pained.
"OK, it was all a nightmare last night. Is that better?" Sam fibbed just to appease his brother.
"Liar. That had to be the worst experience of my life… ever. Why didn't you just shoot me like I asked you to? That would have been more merciful then what they did to me."
"You remember last night? Even after they sedated you?" Sam asked him, rather surprised.
"No amount of sedation could block out those memories out Sam."
"Well, I hope you remember them every time you give me shit for ordering chicken and salad and you order your usual crap."
"Please don't say shit or crap Sam," Dean had to say, the thought of both words conjuring up feelings he's much rather forget right now.
"I hope you're not talking to yourself Sam," she called out as she carried a tray of something down the stairs with her, deciding to join the conversation. She set it down next to Dean, and looked directly into Sam's eyes.
"Sam, your presence is requested upstairs at the table. Your breakfast is getting cold," she informed him matter-of-factly as she pointed up the stairs behind her.
"But…."
"Go. Now. I'm sure Dean doesn't want you here while I examine him, do you Dean?"
"I don't know. Do I need protection from you Dr. Mengele?" Dean asked, shirking away from her slightly.
"Keep talking like that and you might. It wasn't a suggestion Sam. Privacy, please." Without another word, Sam just looked at Dean, shrugged his shoulders, and left as he was ordered, leaving them alone.
"How do you feel this morning?" She asked him curiously, pretty sure he would fill her with a line of bull.
"Like the newbie inmate in cell block H. How do you think I feel?" He somewhat barked, either from irritation or embarrassment.
"You'd feel a lot worse if you'd perforated your bowel or colon, so quit complaining. Now, as honestly as possible, please answer the question. I won't tell Sam, I promise. It'll be our little secret, OK?"
Dean rolled his eyes. He knew it was useless to lie, she'd see right through him. "Better, OK?"
"Do you still have cramps?"
"I'm not a menstrual woman," he remarked, trying to get a rise out of her.
"Dean,"
"Yeah, but I'll live, ok?"
"Are you still nauseous?"
"Maybe a little," he reluctantly admitted to that question as well.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She slid down the blanket covering him, pressing his lower abdomen here and there, feeling around for something he prayed she wouldn't find.
"God Damn, your hands are like ice! You could've warmed them up first, couldn't you?"
"They don't warm up. Lord knows I've tried," she sighed as she continued poking and prodding.
Dean was sure he would have frostbite by the time she pulled the blanket back up, thankfully satisfied with the results. Going over to a cabinet in the corner, she pulled out two bottles and two syringes. Donning a pair of gloves, she filled them both. She shot one into the IV line, and held on to the other one.
"Roll over a little."
"No fucking way. You went the wrong way down a one-way street last night, and it ain't gonna happen again!"
"Dean, I'm a doctor. When you've seen one asshole, you've seen them all. I'm not venturing into forbidden territory anyway, now roll over."
He rolled over as ordered, just enough for her to stick the needle sharply into the fleshy part of his cheek. He finally relaxed when he saw her take off her gloves and throw them into the trash.
"I gave you something to calm your stomach and something for the cramps. If you're a good boy and eat everything I brought down for you, and keep it in your stomach, I may take that IV out tonight. Deal?"
"It's oatmeal. You know I hate oatmeal. And dry toast. And what the hell is that, apple sauce? What am I, three?"
"Sometimes I think you're not even that old." When she answered him, the look on his face was priceless. It would have made a great Mastercard commercial. But he ate it, all of it, and washed it down with the watered-down Gatorade she'd given him.
"Good boy. I'll leave you alone now. I'm sure Sam has been pacing like a caged animal, waiting to talk to you." She stood up to leave, but didn't make it more than two steps. She crumpled to the floor in a small heap.
Dean jerked himself up in his bed, but had no other course of action without ripping the IV line from his arm. "SAM! HELP!"
There was that word again and Sam hated hearing it more and more each and every time. This time though, it had a frantic urgency in it. It was definitely a different call then last time. All three of them jumped from the table, and took off for the basement. Sam was in the lead, Dan and Alex right behind. The second Dean saw Sam, he started demanding some answers.
"What the hell is going on Sam? What's wrong with her? She looks like the second level of death, and she just passed out with no warning, for no reason. Somebody better tell me what's happening!"
Sam ignored his brother's questioning, dropping down at her side, scooping her up off the floor, and held her, not really sure what to do. With her heated body lying limp in his arms, he just carried her upstairs. He laid her down on her bed, covering her with the nearest blanket. She looked emaciated on the enormous bed. By the time he'd gotten back from the bathroom with a cold, wet, washcloth, Alex came in with a bag in hand.
Starting the fluid flow, she just looked at Sam sympathetically. "It's ok Sam. This happens at least once a week. We're used to it now. It'll pass in a day or so."
"This is not ok. This is not normal. This is all wrong."
"No, it's not normal, but until we can diagnose what's causing it, we can't stop it, and she won't cooperate. Our hands are pretty much tied."
"Yeah, well we'll just see about that."
"Dean's a little agitated, well, maybe a lot agitated. I've never heard that many four letter words strung together at one time in my whole life. Dan's trying to explain everything to him now, but I don't really think
he's listening. Go on, we'll be fine here."
Back in the basement, Sam knew Dean was about -2 seconds away from tearing Dan a new one. Once Dean got going, nothing could stop him, and if Sam didn't intervene, Dan would incur the full wrath of Dean Winchester. And he wasn't even deserving of it.
"Dan, do you think Dean and I could have a moment alone, please?"
"I think that would be a great idea." Dan took Sam's cue and escaped as fast as he could back up the way he had come.
"Sam, this is so fucked up. And it's all my fault. If I'd just kept my big mouth shut…"
"What do you mean it's all your fault? Did that fever really fry your brain, or did you just eat an extra bowl of stupid today?"
"I never should have told her Sam. You heard him. After we left, what she did. She cut everyone off, shut them all out. I know what she was thinking. Don't let anyone get close, then they won't get hurt, or dead. That's how she dealt with it Sam. She put up a good face while we were here, but once we were gone, that was it. I should have known she'd do something like that."
"Dean, how were you supposed to know she'd do something like that?" Sam asked him to explain even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to his question.
"Because it's exactly what I would have done," Dean responded, totally dejectedly. Sam thought about that for a minute. Dean was right, it's exactly what he would have done. In fact, it's exactly what Dean had been doing his entire life.
"That doesn't make it your fault, Dean. None of that matters anyway. We're here now, and need to figure out what we're gonna do about it."
"We're gonna make her get help, even if it means we have to tie her up, throw her in the car, and take her ourselves." Where had Sam heard that before?
Dean spent the day in and out of the waking world, his body trying to catch up with his brain. Every minute he was awake, his brain calculated what to do next. Thinking that hard exhausted his strained body though, causing it to shut itself off to recharge.
Sam spent his day alternating between the two rooms. He'd sit with Dean when he was awake, then sit some more with Lou when Dean was asleep. By eight that evening, he was sick of sitting. He needed some air. Grabbing a beer, he headed outside to the deck. Dan had left, but the lovely Alex remained, and low and behold, she was already out there. The instant Sam sat next to her, his palms started to sweat...again.
"Hi Sam. Everything alright?"
"Yes and no. Dean's a lot better, but I'm really worried about Lou. She's not taking care of herself. We have to do something. I just don't know what."
"You guys seem pretty close. Care to share the story?"
"We grew up together. We're practically family. We're supposed to take care of each other. That's why I can't figure out why she's doing this. Doesn't she know that we need her?"
"Do you tell her that?"
"All the time, at least I do. Dean's not the sentimental type, but she has to know how he feels."
"You and Dean close too?"
"Joined at the hip, you could say. Especially since our Dad died not that long ago."
"I'm sorry. That's a tough thing to get through."
"Tell me about it. What about you, what's your story?"
"Me? I moved here four or five months ago, I forget. She interviewed me for my job here, and made the decision to hire me. Then she stood up for me when I was accused of something I didn't do. Someone was stealing drugs from the hospital pharmacy. I got accused, but she caught the person that was doing it red-handed. She saved my job and my career. I could have lost my license over that, and I didn't even do it. Then this happened. It was a way for me to repay my debt, so to speak."
"She likes helping people. It's just what she does. I wish she'd let people help her once in a while."
"You care about her a lot, don't you? That's really sweet Sam. You seem like a really nice guy." She gently placed a hand over his. It sent an electrical charge through his body, and gave him a familiar feeling he hadn't had in a long time.
"I'm sorry Sam, but I really have to go. I'm on in an hour. Got the all night shift. Dan is on his way here
now. I think you'll be in good hands. It was really nice talking to you. I'll see you in a couple of days, if you're still here."
"I'm pretty sure we will be." He'd try and make sure he would be, too.
Once she was gone, he'd checked on Dean, who was gently snoring. He'd be out all night, more than likely from the sound of it. He went upstairs, intending on getting some sleep, until he heard the voice from Lou's room.
"God damn it!" Then he heard the splat sound against the wall. Stepping into the room, he saw the contents of the IV bag spread all over the wall.
"Hey, are you awake?"
"Why?"
"I just wanna see how you are."
"Just peachy Sam."
Sam sat down on the side of the bed. "Why'd you do that? Why'd you pull that out and redecorate your walls with it?"
"Because I'm sick of it. I'm just sick and tired of all of it. I wish everyone would just leave me alone."
"Even us?"
"Except you, I guess. How's Dean? I broke my promise to him. I told him I'd take out his IV tonight. I know how much he likes them."
"Doesn't matter, he didn't hold up his end of the deal anyway. And he hasn't tried eating anything else today. He's been sleeping most of the day too, but I guess he needed it."
"He did Sam. And you do too. Why don't you get some sleep?"
She rolled over, curled up with one of the oversized pillows and was back asleep in minutes. Sam laid his head down next to hers, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. He remembered how good it smelled when they were kids, and it hadn't changed one bit. He, too, was asleep in minutes, curled up right beside her. He was blissfully unaware of the set of daggers shooting from the eyes watching him in the doorway. They were Dan's eyes, and they were ready to kill.