Chapter 16

"Sam, just hold your horses, sit your ass down, and tell me what the hell happened after I left," Bobby all but ordered as he watched Sam take up that infernal pacing that had driven him nearly insane earlier, it not fueled by worry this time, but by sheer anger instead. He'd known Sam nearly his entire life and couldn't remember ever seeing him this pissed. Sam made no attempt to sit, he just continued to march back and forth across the room, chewing on what nails he still had left as the wheels constantly turned in his head.

"I can't sit Bobby, I'm way too wired," he ranted as he quickened his step, no longer content on chewing his nails and opting to crack his knuckles instead.

"Suit yourself. You wanna case the room like a caged animal, go right ahead, but you'd better start telling me what the hell happened while I was gone while you do it," Bobby was starting to doubt anything was getting through to Sam at this point, he was so riled up. Much to the older man's surprise, he did eventually start talking, after a few, very long minutes.

"After you left, I woke Dean up. He was still pretty out of it, but at least he was awake. The nurse came in and gave him something for his headache, then left his liquid lunch with me, which I forced him to drink," Sam started relaying his recollection now that he had his thoughts in order.

"He had a headache again?" Bobby questioned, sounding as surprised as Sam had been when he'd heard the exact same thing from Dean.

"He's always got that fucking headache lately, Bobby," Sam continued as he angrily poked himself in the head with each word he said, pointing out another issue yet to be addressed that eventually would need to be. "Go over there and feel is head, he's got a fever too."

"Yeah, I kinda knew about that, and the blood pressure too. That's just what he needs on top of everything else. What did they say is causing it?"

"They don't know. Some bullshit about all the drugs they've given him in the last couple days, they think. That's just their way of saying they don't know what the hell's wrong and have no other answer yet." The anger in Sam's tone was gaining in intensity with each new thing he told Bobby, and the older man didn't like it.

"Ok Sam, what happened next?" Bobby tried moving Sam's thought process along, hoping it would stymie some of the pent up rage just waiting to burst out.

"We started talking, I asked him what he remembered. He told me he remembered Trish. I think he had remembered a lot, but then he started falling asleep again. I think he was about ready to tell me something important when Waterson came in. As soon as he interrupted us, that was it, Dean was out like a light again," Sam paused for just a second and took a deep breath before continuing, feeling he was about to lose what little control he

had over himself when he started telling him the rest because it was going to be the hardest part to spit out, and Bobby could see it in his eyes, and the way his nostrils were permanently flared now.

"Sam, you need to calm yourself down before you pop a vein and have a stroke, OK? I know you're upset, but making yourself sick isn't gonna help the situation any."


"I know Bobby, but it's the rest that makes my blood boil so much I just want to kill him," Sam was visibly shaking now, and Bobby was starting to worry more about Sam more then Dean. "He came in all arrogant, said not to worry about the fever and the blood pressure problems. Then he examined him, and I swear to god I saw him wince in pain when he touched him. Then he shot him full of some more drugs before we had a few choice words for each other, then he left. Then Julia came and went…"

"Julia?" The look of confusion on Bobby's face didn't register with Sam when he gave it, he just kept talking.

"You know, the physical therapist that's supposed to be helping Dean get himself back on his feet, if things weren't so screwed up all the time, that is…oh wait, you haven't met her yet, have you? Anyway, after she left, Dean started having trouble breathing, then couldn't breathe at all, and you can see the rest." Sam's constant nervous fidgeting was becoming almost uncontrollable now.

"I can see the rest, but I still don't know the what's got all fired up enough to want to commit homicide."

"Waterson doubled whatever the nurse had already given him and it pretty much OD'd him. They said it was an accident, but I don't buy it." Sam informed him, then waited for it to sink into Bobby's head.

Bobby couldn't hide the look of total surprise on his face, wondering himself how something like that could be an accident. "Sam, what makes you think it wasn't?"

"The nurse. She had no idea Dean had a headache until I told her, but she had that injection all ready to go before she even walked in the door. Mark told me Waterson ordered those drugs to be given, then went ahead and gave them to Dean himself again. What I don't get is why. Why would he want to kill Dean? Do you think, in some sick way, he blames Dean for what's happened?"

Bobby thought for a minute about Sam's question, and somehow pieces of the puzzle started coming together in his head at the speed of light. " I think there's a lot more to it then that Sam, and now I really think you better sit down."

Sam glared at Bobby for a minute and could clearly see the man wasn't going to say a word until he did as he was asked and grudgingly dragged up a chair to drop himself into, not

really sure he was ready to hear what he had to say, but preparing himself to listen anyway. He honestly didn't think he had room in his head for anything else at the moment, but he was definitely going to try. "Ok, I'm sitting. Now what?" He sharply asked, arms crossed over his chest and his face contorted like he had a mouthful of Lemonheads.

"There's a lot more going on here then the police are letting on, and the locals have called in the Feds now. Both victims were found dressed in white and posed with their hands crossed over their chests and wrapped in a rosary, just like our girl Trish when we dug her up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and get this…the tongues were missing from both victims. I got to thinking about that, and asked if Trish's had been missing . Guess what?"

"Yeah, I'm betting her's was missing too…so what? We know he had to take something from her or the salt and burn would have sent her on her way. We already know it's the same guy, Dean said so. How does any of this help?" Sam was either too angry to get it, or just not comprehending what Bobby was telling him.

"Think about it Sam, the two known victims were picked because they looked like Trish, were dressed and posed in death just like Trish, but Trish had just been left for dead. I think whoever killed her must have known her." There it was, Bobby's thought process in a nice, neat package for Sam to examine.

Sam immediately followed Bobby's train of thought, taking the ride and getting off at the exact same station. "Jesus Bobby, he killed her, he killed his own sister. It all makes sense now. Waterson must think Dean knows something, or maybe saw him in the car before it hit him. The night he finally came out of it, he asked me about the guy in the car with her. I told him there hadn't been a guy, just her, and he argued with me about it. Dean must have seen him, or Trish told him, or both, and Waterson knows it. He doesn't want Dean dead because he blames him, he wants Dean dead because he thinks he can identify him. That's why he was so damn interested to know if Dean had remembered anything when he came in and gave him that shot. Oh god Bobby, Dean even tried to tell me after Waterson left, but he just couldn't get it out before he passed out, then he stopped breathing. We have to stop him Bobby!"

Sam jumped from the chair he'd been planted in and grabbed his coat, ready to hunt the twisted son-of-a-bitch down when Bobby wrapped a firm hand around his wrist and forced him back into the seat the hot-headed kid had just vacated. He knew Sam was even more enraged, and had every right to be, but he had to stop him from doing anything stupid yet.

"Sit back down Sam. The last thing you need to be doing right now is running out of here half-cocked to hunt the man down when we have no real proof he did anything yet. All we've got is a bunch of suspicions, but nothing else."

"It's him Bobby, I know it is, and if Dean was awake, he'd probably tell you that too. He's already killed three people, and he wants to kill Dean. Look at him, for god's sake. He's almost killed him twice already, how many more chances do you want to give him? We

need to take him out before he kills again." Sam may still be angry, but now it was anger with a purpose, and that made him somewhat dangerous.

"You're forgetting one very important thing Sam. He may be a monster, but he's still human, and we don't kill humans."

"He tried killing by brother Bobby, I might just make an exception this time," Sam stated in a rather icy cold tone that the older man had never heard come from normally level-headed kid before.

"Damn it Sam, listen to yourself. I'd expect that kind of attitude from Dean, not you. Get your head out of your ass and use it. We can not, I repeat NOT, kill him, and that's final!"

"Then what do we do, sit around here with our fingers up our asses and wait for him to get bored? I can't do that Bobby, I just can't."

"Right now, we're going down to the cafeteria and getting something to eat, because I got a funny feeling you haven't bothered to yet today, and I'm starving. Then, I'm going to get some sleep since I didn't have the luxury of snoozing until five this afternoon. Then, in the morning, I; not we but I; will go check out Waterson's house while you stay here and keep an eye on your brother. That's what we do, and if you want to do it with your finger up your ass, be my guest."

"I can't, my heads already taking up all the space, remember?"

"Your choice what's up your ass, but whichever one it is, it will be right here with Dean, because the way I see it, he sure as hell can't protect himself right now."

The anger in Sam's voice was finally dissipating, his face slowly starting to return to a normal color from the near blood red it seemed to be. "You're right, I know that, but what if he tries something before tomorrow? It'll be our faults for not stopping him."

"He's too smart to do something that stupid Sam, not when the spotlight is on him with what went down here today. I got a feeling he's gonna be laying low for a while until this all blows over, which buys us at least a little time. Besides, I don't want to be the one that has to tell Dean you took the bastard out and got caught 'cause you were too pissed off the think straight. He'd kill me, sure as shit."

"At least we'd be in prison together," Sam finally managed a small smile and realized he actually felt a little better. Bobby made sense, he always made sense.

"Good thing too, you'd need someone to protect your pretty ass," Bobby light-heartedly gave Sam a slap in the back of the head and started for the door, giving Sam a look indicating he'd better be right behind him.

Sam reluctantly followed Bobby out of the room, not really wanting to leave, but knowing the older hinter wasn't taking no for an answer. He'd also all but promised his brother that if Dean ate, he would too, and since Dean had forced down whatever the hell that crap was the nurse had left for him at Sam's insistence, he figured he should at least live up to his end of the bargain. His brother would never know, but he would, and Sam already felt enough guilt without wanting anymore.

Closing the door tightly behind him like it was some sort of shield that would protect Dean in his absence, Sam followed Bobby down the hall, obviously dragging his feet as each glance he stole back towards the door with every other step he took made him lag farther and farther behind. Bobby impatiently stormed through half the hallway back to the distracted young man and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him silently to the elevator right behind him. Sam didn't like leaving his brother alone and unprotected in the helpless state he was in, the thought that every time he did, something bad happened. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized that even with him in the room, bad things happened. He hoped it was that very same thought that sent the cold chill up his spine as he watched Bobby press the down button, suddenly wanting nothing more to head right back where he'd just come from.

"Forger it Sam, you're coming with me," Bobby told him without even looking in his direction as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in, roughly pulling Sam in right with him. "Nothing's gonna happen before we get back, so quit obsessing."

Sam said nothing as the doors closed and the car started on it's way down, the figure that had been lurking in the hallway and completely out of sight making his way to the door the two men had just come from once they were gone. Confident he'd been totally unseen, he slipped inside, the room, it lit up just enough for him to see where he was going. It didn't really matter, he wouldn't need much light, not for what he was going to do. He stood there and stared at Dean until he'd decided what to say, knowing there was no way he could hear him, but wanting to say his piece anyway.

"Well Dean, I wish I could say I'm happy to see your still breathing, but then I'd be a liar, now wouldn't I? I do try keeping my faults to a minimum, so I guess I'll keep this honest. I don't really know how you know what you think you know, but it really doesn't matter now. Those drugs may not have killed you, but at least they'll prevent you from remembering me, that much I'm sure of," he began his monologue, occasionally rubbing his dimpled chin or scratching his blonde head as he spoke, pausing every now and again to work through his thoughts to make them come out just right. It didn't matter that they were falling on deaf ears.

"I have been racking my brain since this morning trying to figure out what to do about you, but I can't seem to come up with any good solutions. What I'd really like to do is just rip that tube out of your throat right now and watch you slowly suffocate, but that wouldn't be very subtle now, would it. I tried making it as painless as possible for you with the drugs, thought that would be the most humane way for you to go. You were just supposed to stop breathing in your sleep, and nobody would have known any better. Sure,

they would have figured out what killed you eventually, but considering who I am, they would have just put the blame on that ditzy nurse and fired her. Too bad for you it didn't quite work out that way." He took a longer moment to ponder this time before he continued, wanting to fully express how he really felt before he left.

"Thanks to your damn brother saving you and that vindictive bastard Mark Horton childless informing my father of my actions, it seems I'm going to be going away for a little while at my father's request, just until things blow over. Don't worry though, I'll be back real soon, and we can pick this up right where we left off," he tapped Dean's shoulder at the ominous reassurance as he frowned, relatively disappointed with his handiwork thus far and his inability to finish the job. He was almost done with the defenseless young man, but not quite.

He pulled back the blanket that had been so kindly pulled up to Dean's chin, hands aiming directly for the incision he'd so haphazardly closed up during the surgery earlier. It hadn't been his most professional job, but he hadn't cared at the time. He thought the kid wouldn't be around long enough for it to become an issue. He felt around the entire area, pressing here, and poking there, until he found the spot he thought he was looking for, giving it one sharp jab with most of the fingers on his right hand, the action actually making Dean's lower body jerk in what Waterson assumed, or hoped, was pain, the reaction giving him a small shiver of excitement. Re-covering everything exactly the way he'd found it, blanket included, he grabbed hold of the tube attached to Dean's face and gave it a little wiggle, but left it in place to do it's job.

"That's going to be a lot slower and more painful then the OD would have been, and it probably won't kill you before Mark notices it, but one can hope. Anyway, you take good care of yourself Dean, and if you're still around when I get back, well…we'll see. I may just decide to take care of that annoying brother of yours first." He slipped out of the room as quietly as he'd entered it, leaving the door slightly ajar as he tried to slink out into the hall unnoticed. He caught the set of eyes on him instantly, and held them with a menacing gaze as he approached the young woman behind the desk, her own stare wide and shocked.

"You know who I am?" He asked her, his tone forceful and arrogant as he laid a warm hand across hers and nearly crushed it in his grip. She answered with only the shake of her head, not finding the ability to verbalize anything at the moment. "If you want to continue working in any medical field other then wiping shit from senior citizen's asses, you never saw me here tonight, understand."

Another silent shake of her head produced a smile on his face from ear to ear, and he gave her hand one more squeeze, much more gently this time, before he turned and walked away, heading straight for the stairwell. His father was an impatient man, the call coming in from him barely an hour ago, his displeasure at the current situation clearly audible. Mark Horton had called him and told him everything, and he immediately called to inform his son he was to take a short leave of absence to get his head together. That had angered Trent to no ends, but when his father said jump, he asked how high, then tried that plus a few extra inches for good measure, even though he knew it would never be good enough.

The leave was only temporary also, he'd be back within a week if he had his way, and then Mark would get his, Mark and Sam both. He whistled as he trotted down the stairs, already planning his sweet revenge.

The elevator doors opened as the stairwell door closed, Sam and Bobby stepping off with Sam's hands loaded with food. The younger Winchester had been whining and complaining since the two of them stepped onto the floor the cafeteria was located on, and the only thing Bobby could do to shut him up was agree to take their food back up and eat it in the room where he could sit guard next to his brother. Considering the fact that it was probably the only way he was going to get the damn kid to eat, he found himself readily agreeing. Between the pacing, the anger, then the whining, Bobby would do anything to keep Sam happy at the moment. He'd finally gone quiet when Bobby acquiesced, and they picked their poison, paid, and silently headed back up.

Sam's pace was quick as he walked down the hall, stopping at the door and impatiently tapping his foot when he realized he had no free hand to open the door with, and waited for Bobby to catch up. When he finally did, the older man grasped the door handle and pulled, Sam's head too lost in the clouds to even notice it was no longer shut tight the way he'd left it. Sam pushed past Bobby rather rudely, but Bobby just let it go knowing he wasn't going to relax one bit until he saw nothing earth shattering had happened to Dean while he'd been gone. The look of relief accompanied by the soft sigh was blatant when he saw his brother in exactly the same condition he'd left him in, and now he was ready to settle in for what promised to be a very long night.

"See, I told you the world wasn't gonna come to an end before we got back," Bobby chided, unable to resist a good 'I told you so'. If he only knew…