Chapter 21
Sam opened the bathroom door as wide as it would go to reveal the awaiting room outside and stood behind it as he waited patiently for Dean to make an effort to wheel himself out, the effort that never came for the few long moments he stood there watching him. Dean didn't move a muscle, he just sat there with his hands buried under the blanket tucked around his lap and stared at the knife he'd dropped on the floor the second Trish had announced her presence and stopped him from making what would have been the biggest mistake of his life. The longer he sat there making no effort to leave what he considered to be the considerably comfortable confines of the tiny bathroom, Sam couldn't help but wonder if there was something his brother still needed to say to him.
"Dean? Come on man, the chair isn't going to wheel itself out," Sam tossed the remark in his most benign voice possible, wanting to spur either his brother's movements or thoughts but not wanting to instigate any further confrontations. Dean seemed calm enough now, but that was still subject to change at a moment's notice, and they both knew it. When his brother just continued his unwavering blank stare at the weapon he'd let carelessly fall from his hand to the floor and said nothing, Sam couldn't help but start to worry about what thoughts may be going through his Dean's overly taxed mind again.
"Hey, Dean, what is it?" Sam asked as he approached him quickly and grabbed the knife from its resting spot on the floor before Dean even had a chance to think or react. Something in the way Dean stared at the blade made a little voice in the back of Sam's head scream at him to take possession of it before his brother could and he did just that as he bent down to his knees and came face to face with that vacant look that didn't move from where it was trained, even after the object it seemed to be fixed to was gone and Sam realized Dean wasn't really staring at the knife at all but staring at what it represented instead.
"I was really gonna do it Sam, I was really going to kill myself. I really wanted to do it too, and that scares me a little. How could I have even…" he said as he finally looked up into Sam's face and Sam cut him off before he could go any further.
"It wasn't all you, remember? It's over now, just let it go. Sleep it off and maybe tomorrow will be better," he told his brother as he breathed a small sigh of relief. He hated the fact that Dean had to feel the guilt of what he'd just tried to do on top of everything else already piled heavily on him but he was thankful that at least this particular crisis seemed to have passed and he wanted nothing more than to forget it had ever happened and move on. They had bigger problems at the moment to deal with, of that there was no denying.
"Give me the knife back Sam," Dean nearly ordered as he extended an extremely shaky hand to him and Sam could see now why he'd had them buried out of his sight under the blanket. He held his breath as he eyed Dean suspiciously and the look didn't go unnoticed. "I think I should be the one to give it back, don't you?"
Sam's semi-relieved exhale had been clearly audible to Dean but his outstretched hand never wavered, even as it shook nearly uncontrollably now, making it a clear indication to Sam that he wasn't moving until his baby brother complied with his wishes. Grabbing his older brother's unsteady hand in one of his own, Sam pressed the handle of the knife firmly against Dean's palm and closed his fingers tightly around it, then stood back on high alert as he waited for Dean to do or say something.
"I think you better push me Sammy. I don't think I can do it myself," he finally told his brother as he rested both the knife and his hand in his lap, indicating he was ready to face the world again, or at least he was ready to give it a try. Letting out the rest of that relieved sigh, Sam took a position behind the chair, grabbed both handles, and pushed his brother out and right up to Bobby, who had been pacing the floor the entire time they'd had themselves locked inside.
"Hey Bobby, I…umm…think maybe this belongs to you," Dean boyishly told him in an overly hushed tone as he handed the weapon back to its rightful owner with that perpetually quaking hand that just continued to shake seemingly non-stop no matter what he did or how hard he tried to control it. He'd made eye contact with Bobby as briefly as possible before turning his gaze back down to the floor like a guilt-ridden child that knew he'd been caught red handed with not just one but both hands in the cookie jar after being specifically told 'NO' once he saw the angered look on his face that masked what he knew full well was hiding directly behind it. He'd not only nearly scared the life out of Sam, but he had scared the hell out of Bobby as well.
"What was your first clue kid, the fact that it was hidden in my zipped up bag?" He returned the comment in a rather unpleasant tone as he grabbed Dean's arm hard by the wrist to hold it steady as he
carefully took the knife from his shaking hand. No sooner had Bobby released the appendage from his grip had Dean quickly concealed it back under the blanket in his lap in an effort to hide his unsteadiness from not only both men but himself also. "You try something like that again and…"
"Bobby, please," Sam nearly begged, the memory of what started this whole incident still very fresh in his mind and not wanting to repeat it again.
"No Sam, it's ok. He's right, I deserve it. I had no business digging through his stuff…" he started, but didn't get very far before the seasoned hunter cut him off.
"You think that's why I'm so mad at you I could kill you myself right now?" He nearly fumed now that the almost unbearable fear he'd felt the second he noticed the knife was gone had been replaced by something akin to parental fury.
"I guess not," Dean muttered back.
"You'd guess right boy," Bobby retorted as he crossed his arms over his chest and Sam knew the man had something he wanted to get off that chest and he wanted to get if off that chest in private.
"I'll go see if I can find Mark," Sam told them both as Bobby continued staring Dean down and Dean just continued staring at whatever it was on the floor that was so fascinating to him at the moment. It was obvious that Bobby wanted to say his piece and feeling the tension exuding from him starting to fill the room, he knew he wanted to keep it between the two of them, probably to help Dean save face before his brother. He'd allow him just that too, as it seemed Bobby was the only person able to keep Dean in line as of late. He wandered out the door and closed it behind him, leaving the two of them alone to hash out whatever it was Bobby had on his mind.
"You get that all out of your system now?" Bobby changed his tone from angered to worried now that Sam was gone.
"Yeah, I think so," he answered, still keeping his eyes peeled on the floor when he heard how much he'd upset the older man by the tone of his voice, the only person in the world beside Sam he considered family and would probably die for if need be.
"Good, because you nearly gave that brother of yours a heart attack and we've got enough problems right now without adding one more. You may not realize it Dean, but that brother of yours is lost without you. He needs you more than the air he breathes. You mean just about everything in the world to him and…"
"Yeah, I know. You're the second person to tell me that today. I think I got it now," Dean remarked, too physically tired and emotionally drained to think anymore. He just wanted to get in bed and go to sleep, even though it was barely three o'clock in the afternoon and pray that Sam was right about tomorrow being a better day.
"What?" Bobby questioned him, the irritation he felt at Dean cutting him off gone as the confusion at what he'd just said won out. "Who else told you that today?"
"Long story, never mind," Dean answered him as he tried getting comfortable in the suddenly very uncomfortable chair he was seated in. The more the adrenaline rush he'd had wore off, the more his head throbbed and his stomach ached but he did his best to keep it from showing on his face. "Don't worry, I promise I won't try it again. Besides, if Sam had been straight up with me in the first place, none of this would have happened, would it? Trust me, it won't happen again, ever, I swear."
"Good, because if you do decide to try a stunt like that again and are successful, I'll make damn sure you don't get a proper burial so you have to roam the halls of this place aimlessly until the end of time, you got that? Maybe even trap you in a ring of salt and make you watch 'Pretty Woman' over and over again as punishment," he smiled somewhat at the threat as Dean continued to squirm slightly in his seat.
"That's a little harsh don't you think? You'd really do that to me?" He'd asked with raised eyebrows, somewhat surprised at the comment.
"You really have to ask?" Bobby glared back, his face cloaked in severe seriousness.
"Ok, guess not," Dean answered when he saw the stare the older man had given him and Bobby could no longer ignore the pained look that had finally spread itself across the young man's weary face or the way he fidgeted in the chair like his body was covered in honey as fire ants marched across him and took to eating his flesh.
"Something wrong Dean?"
"I'm just really tired Bobby, it's been a long day," he told him and made an effort to turn himself in the direction of the bed, which wasn't really going to happen with his hands still as jittery as they were. Bobby said nothing as he took hold of the handles on the back of the chair and turned him around to face his target. By the time Sam came back into the room with Mark in tow, Dean was already back in his bed,
covered with a blanket up to his chin and already in a deep sleep now that total exhaustion had finally won out for the day.
Sam had told the nurses at the station he'd had a slight 'emergency' and asked that they page Mark, but wouldn't give them any more detail than that before taking up residence against the wall just beyond the elevator doors and waited rather impatiently for him to step off. He didn't have to wait long and Mark was there within minutes with an obviously anxious look on his face. Sam had told him everything, well, almost everything. Leaving out the part about Trish , he'd relayed exactly what Dean had told him about not being able to keep his food down and that between his head and his stomach he was always in one kind of pain or another or both but hadn't bothered to tell anyone. 'Typical Dean,' he'd thought to himself without saying.
Once he'd gotten that much out, he knew he'd have to start on the hard part, the part he dreaded telling him because he really didn't want to think about what could have been and almost was for another minute. Mark listened as Sam slowly ran through the events of the last couple hours in detail, nodding every now and then, occasionally shaking his head in the affirmative, or scratching his chin like he was deep in thought. He asked no questions, just let Sam vent it all and by the time he was finished, the young man seemed barely able to hold his emotions together. Every time Mark talked to Sam, he was more and more impressed with how much the kid could take without losing it, but he was pretty sure that Sam had somehow finally found his breaking point. Sam had nearly begged him to keep what had happened between just them and after hearing the falter in his voice and seeing the nearly desperate look on his face, he reluctantly agreed.
Sam had practically dragged Mark into the room and was totally shocked to not only see his brother back in his bed but already sleeping relatively soundly as well. What Sam had failed to realize was that between filling Mark in on all of the details before making a monumental effort to compose himself enough to go back inside to face Dean, he'd been out in the hall for over an hour.
Mark wasted no time assessing Dean's new, and hopefully final round of injuries and determined that the arm wouldn't be in need stitching, but the thumb most definitely would. Butterflies would hold the long, nearly surgical incision in his forearm closed quite nicely but the thumb had been cut nearly down to the bone. He'd taken care of sewing that deeply cut wound closed as quickly as possible and was not as surprised as he probably should have been that everything he did hadn't caused his patient to stir, not once. He'd finished wrapping the thumb and left without saying a word when Sam insisted they would be alright until morning. Stopping at the nurses' station on his way out, he gave orders for regular doses of pain medication whether they were asked for or not, because according to Sam, they would never be asked for, ever. He also left orders before leaving the floor to be paged immediately should anything else happen in that room tonight and he meant anything because he just couldn't shake the feeling he had that something else was wrong, he just didn't know what yet.
Bobby had waited for Sam to finally relax and settle in for the afternoon before leaving him alone with his sleeping brother and his thoughts, wanting to wipe a few more properties on his long list of possible hideouts off of it before calling it a day now that it was pretty much into early evening now. Sam had refused Bobby's offer to bring him back something to eat, telling him he was too wound up to do anything and as he walked out the door, he caught one last glimpse of Sam just sitting in a chair staring at his brother's sleeping face. God, how he hoped he'd find something to put an end to the mess the Winchesters had been forcibly thrown into against their will because if anyone didn't deserve what they were being put through, it was them. By the time he'd returned empty-handed it was well into night and not only was Dean still sound asleep, Sam was as well.
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"Wakey Wakey, hands off snaky little brother, time to rise and shine and face the new day Sammy," Dean repeatedly poked his brother in the shoulder rather hard as he amusedly chuckled to himself.
Sam forced his eyes open to look at the human alarm clock sitting before him through rather bewildered eyes when he realized that Dean was nearly face to face with him and smiling like the cat that just ate the canary in one bite, leaving no evidence of foul play behind him.
"Dean? What the hell are you doing up? How the hell did you get up? What time is it?" He rambled off questions mindlessly without waiting for answers as he rubbed his face with his hands and tried bringing himself fully around.
"Whoa, one question at a time Sam. It's eight a.m. and I'm up because I've been sleeping since four
o'clock yesterday afternoon. I'm also not a total cripple you know, I can get out of my bed without your help if I try hard enough and you need to get your ass out of your bed now too. Bobby's still got more places on that damn list of his that I can count on both hands and I think you should help him check them out. The two of you will burn through it a lot faster than just Bobby will on his own and maybe you'll find something that'll help us. Oh, and if you actually find the bastard, don't hesitate to shoot him for me Sam, I mean it."
Sam was wide awake now, the suggestion of him leaving Dean alone all day not one that he was even remotely going to entertain after the events of the day before. "No way Dean, I'm not going anywhere. Bobby's quite capable of handling that list by himself and after yesterday…"
"Yesterday's over Sam. You and Bobby need to find him and stop him before he picks another victim. You said it yourself, he won't be gone long and when he comes back he's gonna be like a junkie needing a fix. Don't worry about me; I'll be just fine here by myself. Besides, once you walk out that door I'm sure that brutal contortionist with the pretty face will be here to twist me like a pretzel all morning which will just make me sleep the afternoon away anyway," Dean reasoned with his brother quite steadfastly. He wasn't taking no for an answer and Sam knew it, but agreed to it even though he didn't like it, not one bit.
"Fine. You win. But I swear Dean, if you…"
"Shut up and get moving Sam. Bobby went for coffee and donuts and wants you ready to go when he gets back, which should be in about ten minutes now that you wasted the last five arguing with me."
"What the hell's gotten into you? The real Dean must have been abducted by aliens and you were left in his place last night because you are not the brother that was here yesterday," Sam scowled as he spoke, which elicited a big smile from Dean.
"Like I already told you Sammy, that was yesterday and I, for one, am sick of being that person that I was yesterday. Now get your damn shoes on and get the hell out of here, I've got shit to do."
"You've got what to do?" Sam asked, somewhat surprised at Dean's sudden change in behavior. "What shit could you possibly have to do?"
"I need to work on getting my ass out of this chair and I really don't want you here while I'm doing it, ok. Now would you please go…please?"
"Ok, ok…I'm going," Sam whined as he got up and walked in the direction of the bathroom, smiling all the way. It was good to have his brother back and he hoped he was here to stay.