Author's Notes: Throwing this up before I head out the door to a barbeque! Hope you all enjoy. Seems a little bit rambly to me, but what else is new, right?

Chapter 24

Dean had half expected to see Sam's face immediately in front of his as he opened the bathroom door and wheeled himself out into the dark room some thirty minutes later, but was relieved to see, or more so hear, that his little brother had actually shuffled his way back across the room, deposited himself back onto his bed, and gone right back to sleep. For once, Sam had actually listened to him when he said he was fine. 'That's a first'.

Bobby, on the other hand, was a different story. He had somehow silently positioned himself just outside the bathroom door to be out of sight but not out of the way and Dean never saw him as he brushed past him on his way back into the room. Dean didn't even know the veteran hunter was standing anywhere near him until he grabbed the handles of the chair and halted the eldest Winchester's forward progress dead. The abrupt stop made him jump slightly as Bobby's hushed voice fell on his ears and he finally realized the man was standing there right next to him.

"Losing your touch there, kid?" He whispered as softly as his rough voice could relay, not wanting to wake Sam again; who was blissfully unaware of what his brother had been doing. "You know kid, I could have just slit your throat and you would 'a never known what hit you."

"Nah, I knew you were there the whole time," Dean lied. He couldn't let Bobby know he'd been surprised because that just didn't happen to Dean Winchester. Nothing ever got the jump on him because Dean Winchester was always aware of what was going on around him, all the time.

"Yeah, right," Bobby replied, almost as if he could read Dean's mind.

"Sorry, I'd of gotten out of there sooner if I'd of known there was a line forming outside the door," Dean tried to change the subject, which played right into Bobby's hand.

'For someone so smart Dean, you sure can be pretty dumb,' he thought as he spoke. "I am a pretty patient man you know, but you could have been pacing the floor out here just as easily as you were in there and not holding up the damn line," Bobby continued to whisper, the lack of volume he used doing nothing to dampen the accusatory tone of voice he projected and Dean was actually starting to think that Bobby may be worse than Sam. "You supposed to be up on your feet yet, or do you just love this place so much you wanna mess yourself up again so you just don't have to leave it?"

The question stunned Dean for a second as he tried to figure out how Bobby knew what he had really been doing in the bathroom all that time. He was sure he hadn't made a sound other than an occasional grunt that could have been easily waved off as something else since he was in the bathroom as he forced himself to stand and walk the length of the room back and forth numerous times before finally feeling the ache in his leg and deciding to just sit down and come out. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, but something in the way Bobby asked the question made him feel guilty anyway. "Well, was kinda hoping to take that cute little blonde candy striper wandering the halls around here all the time to the prom, so I had to practice my dance moves. She keeps giving me that eye, ya know? I think she has a thing for me."

"Yeah, 'cuz jailbait wants an old man with a fractured hip hanging on her arm all night, right?" Bobby said in a little louder tone now, his annoyance starting to show and he was going to let Dean know it. "You got no business being on your feet yet boy, and you know it."

"Hey, who you calling an old man...old man?" Dean semi-laughed, and not entirely at his own humor. He really didn't see what the big deal was. Bobby's stern look never wavered and Dean knew the man meant business. "Come on Bobby, the doc didn't say I couldn't, so I just decided to test my limits," he tried defending himself, not really knowing why he needed defending in the first place.

"And he didn't say you could either. Your limits are in that bed or that chair until you hear otherwise. There's too much shit goin' on for us to worry about you havin' another setback and all it takes is for you fall down and hurt yourself and you're right back to square one. Sam doesn't have a whole lot left in his tanks when it comes to dealing with your emergencies and frankly, neither do I, so until you get the word, you stay put. We clear?" He growled in a hushed tone and Dean acknowledged every word. Acknowledged, yes…listened, no.

"Yeah, we're clear," Dean mumbled as he dropped his head to stare at the floor, feeling like the chastised child Bobby had meant him to be. 'Yep, Bobby is worse than Sam'.

The early morning hours seemed to crawl by slower than a snail's pace and Dean almost felt like he had lived an entire day by the time the sun finally rose in the sky. He had let his baby brother continue his seemingly deep slumber uninterrupted until Sam decided to finally drag himself out of bed sometime around eight, either the expletives he expressed or the sounds of a tray of some kind of hospital breakfast food being deposited in front him that he was really starting to find inedible causing Sam to stir. Forcing down the tasteless mess displayed before him as quickly as he possibly could, he anxiously sat waiting for Sam to finish showering as Bobby silently watched the morning news and tried to figure out how to get rid of both men for the remainder of the morning, if not the entire day. He had a few ideas, but he wasn't really sure if they would work. He had to try though because after Bobby's warning earlier this morning, he had no intentions of letting him or Sam hang around when Mark showed up today.

"So, what now? What's the plan?" Dean asked when Sam breezed past him as he made his way out of the steam-filled bathroom; toweling his hair that was still a wet, tangled mess as droplets of water splashed on his bare chest."I don't know man. We've pretty much run out of places to look, so unless you have anything new you'd like share, we're about all 'planned' out. Are you sure Trish never said anything to you that would even remotely indicate where her brother could be hiding?" Sam asked as he donned a shirt and ran a comb through the tousled mop on his head before throwing on a jacket and shoes. Sam looked like he intended on going somewhere, and Dean was now curious as to where. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

"Nothing I can recall Sammy, but hey I could always try punching myself in the head a few times and hope she shows up so I can ask her," Dean snidely answered, hoping to maybe annoy his brother away for the day. He should have known better though, because the instant he'd made the unnecessarily obnoxious remark he knew he was going to incur Bobby's wrath again. The man had been too quiet in the corner ignoring everything else all morning to let that one slide. He was quick and before Dean could even blink, Bobby was standing right next to him.

"Here, let me help you get started," he barked, whacking Dean not so gently on the back of his head with an open hand, which surprised both brothers equally.

"Ow! Excuse me…recent head trauma, remember? What the hell was that for?" He complained in a voice an octave or two higher than usual as he rubbed a hand over his short, stubbly hair where the irritated man had just cracked him.

"Recent head trauma my ass. You'd have to have a brain up there in your head for it to be traumatized," he spoke in a rather angered tone, somehow suspicious that Dean was up to something when he noticed him stealing glances at the clock in the corner every couple minutes. "Last time I checked, your brother was just tryin' to help you Dean. Why don't you quit bein' an ass and cut him some slack?"

"Ok…ok, I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. You didn't have to smack me so hard upside the head I'm seeing stars, did you?" Dean continued to whine in an overly childish tone as he continued to massage his own scalp a little over-dramatically and Sam suddenly started laughing at the way his brother's voice sounded, which garnered Sam a raised finger from Dean. None of which seemed to amuse Bobby much.

"I think we all are Dean, but that don't give you special license to bitch," he informed the older of the two siblings as the younger one continued to chuckle. Nobody could put Dean in his place like Bobby could.

"Yeah, jerk," Sam smirked out as he squinted up his eyes and stuck out his tongue like a five year old child that was justified by a scolding parent in a sibling argument.

"Alright. I said I was sorry already, didn't I?" Dean had managed to spit out his conceding of defeat in an almost normal voice and decided the subject needed to be changed to something he was a little more interested in, like when Sam and Bobby would be leaving. "So, all dressed up and nowhere to go, little brother?"

"Who said I was going anywhere?" Sam asked, deciding it was his turn to be an ass.

"Uh, shoes…coat…it isn't exactly chilly in here Sammy, and you even combed your hair. Looks to me like you're headed out the door soon," Dean answered with a little too much enthusiasm as his eyes drifted to the clock yet again. 8:55 a.m.

"Why are you so damn anxious to get rid of us Dean?" Bobby questioned, his ever-present suspicions growing.

"Just looking forward to another session of hell on earth when Julia gets here," he groused, trying to sound totally disinterested. "I love being twisted seven ways to Sunday, then passing out for the rest of the afternoon. Can't think of a better way to spend the day. Its what I live for."

"Yeah, right," Bobby grumbled as he shot Dean a skeptical look but went quiet when he could clearly see Sam wanted to speak now that his internal laughing fit had finally subsided.

"Well, I thought we'd go get breakfast, then check out Trent's house one more time. Maybe there's something we missed. There has got to be something somewhere to lead us in the right direction. Nobody is that good at staying hidden," Sam finally answered Dean's original question as he formulated their plans for the day in his head. He didn't really think they would find anything, but at least it gave him something to focus on other than nothing.

"Yeah, tell that to the Zodiac killer," Dean huffed.

"Dean, nobody could find him because nobody knew who the Zodiac was. I don't think that applies to this situation," Sam corrected his brother as he made his way towards the door and tossing Bobby a look indicating he wanted to get another day started. "Ready when you are Bobby."

Shooting Dean a warning glare before marching his way in Sam's direction, he pointed a sharp finger at the young man sitting in the chair, scowled, and issued his cautionary statement one more time. "Stay put boy, I mean it."

"Yes sir," Dean half-heartedly mumbled as the two walked out the door and he was finally happy to be alone. Mark always showed up right before Julia did, which meant he had all of an hour to figure out how he was going to talk Mark into what he was planning on talking him into and decided that if talking him into it wasn't going to work, he would just demand it.

Sitting in his chair as he absent-mindedly stared at the wall and waited, he was startled slightly when he heard light footsteps approaching the door at only 9:25. He had somehow become quite aware of the sounds most of the staff members' feet made as they walked and that set of feet he didn't recognize, the foreign echo putting his defense mechanisms on high alert. He relaxed only slightly when he saw who the footsteps belonged to but firmly held onto his guard as he waited for her to speak.

"Good morning…Dean, right?" The pretty, young nurse asked as she entered the room with a bright, wide smile spread across her face. 'Damn, she's a cute one'. He thought as he looked into her big, blue eyes staring at him.

"I'm the one in the wheelchair, guess that makes me Dean," he answered, trying to throw a little charm into the room. 'So much for keeping my guard up.' "You must be new because I think I've met all the nurses on this floor, but I know I haven't met you yet."

"First day here, thanks," she giggled slightly at his remark, but for the most part tried to ignore it. She had a job to do and she was going to do it and do it quickly. "I need you to get back onto the bed for a little while. Can you do that on your own or do you need some assistance?"

"Now what would you want to get me into bed for?" He questioned, giving her a suggestive wink and a grin.

"Because there's an order in your chart to remove your catheter today," she answered and Dean grinned again when he saw her blushing slightly, until it registered what he had just heard.

As much as he was enjoying the amusement of flirting with the quite obviously shy little nurse standing in front of him, he couldn't help but be totally dumbfounded by what she had just said. He thought about pinching himself and asking her to repeat what she had just told him to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep and was dreaming the entire scene. He was almost looking forward to the argument that he had prepared himself for and was sure he was going to have with the doctor that he actually did like but wasn't letting on that he did and somehow felt disappointed that it just wasn't going to happen the way he envisioned it. He couldn't even think of anything witty to say as he just sat there staring at her like she had suddenly grown an extra head.

"So, what do you say? Can you get up there, or do you need help?" She asked again, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

"No, I'll do it myself," he finally answered as he wheeled himself the short distance to the bed and climbed almost effortlessly back onto it.

Dropping on his back and fixing his stare on the ceiling, he just laid there and patiently waited. Seeing her approach from the corner of his eye, he just squeezed their lids over them, somehow no longer wanting to look at her pretty, rosy face. He heard her snap on a pair of gloves before he felt her uncomfortably cold hands against his waist and he just held his breath and focused on the burning sensation that flooded through him like lava from an erupting volcano until she was thankfully done. Pulling up the blanket that had been bunched at the foot of the bed to cover him, she rested a hand on his shoulder and finally spoke.

"All done, you can breathe now," she reassuringly said and he did finally let out the breath he had been holding in. She couldn't help but notice the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead or the lack of color in his face that had drained out entirely, giving her cause for concern. "Hey, are you ok? That wasn't supposed to be uncomfortable in any way."

"No…I'm good, thanks," he told her, lying through his gritted teeth. Not as painful as what had put him in this position in the first place, but close enough. He forced himself to breath evenly, knowing she wasn't going to leave until he did and wanting more than anything to be left alone for now to recompose himself.

"Call if you need anything, ok?" She finally asked when she was satisfied he wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest and turned to make a hasty escape from the room when he just shook his head to acknowledge he had heard her. 'Great way to start a first day', she thought as she walked out into the hallway, mindlessly carrying everything with her.

Her lack of attention at not only the direction she had taken but also her surroundings as she tried shaking the flustered thoughts from her head slammed her hard into the man that was making his way into the room she had just vacated and within just a few feet of exiting through the door, her retreat was stopped abruptly by strong hands that prevented her from falling on her backside and throwing everything she carried in various different directions. He noticed immediately what she had been leaving the room with and instantly started questioning her.

"Did you just come from that room?" Mark calmly started when he noticed how nervous the young girl had become, pointing at Dean's door and trying to smile warmly.

"Yes sir," she respectfully answered, eyes trained on the floor.

"Mind if I ask what you were doing?" He questioned next, still trying to keep some semblance of cool in his tone.

"The chart said to take this out today," she quietly spoke as she showed him what she meant instead of telling him, somehow knowing she was probably in some sort of trouble. "So I took it out."

"Can I see that chart please?" He tried to keep his calm, knowing he hadn't made any such note but suspecting who had. She handed him what he asked for and as he flipped it open to read, all he could do was shake his head and roll his eyes when he recognized the handwriting inside, mentally berating himself for not noticing it before, considering it had been there for a week now.

"Trent. Fucking Trent."

Trent was pleased with himself. Very pleased with himself. Preparations had taken much longer than he had initially anticipated, but after a productive last couple of days, he felt everything was finally in place. Standing back and scanning the small area that had been sectioned off and hidden very well a long time ago in the large, musty basement that served as the perfect hideout for him, he smiled and felt he was finally ready to make his fantasy a reality. Besides himself, there were only two other people that knew this place even existed; one of which was dead and the other wasn't telling, not matter how many times he may be asked. He could carry out his plans totally undisturbed by the rest of the world, confident that nobody would ever find them even though they would practically be right under everyone's noses.

He had worked feverishly hard over the last couple days to make everything perfect; his need for stealth making certain tasks difficult to accomplish, but accomplish them he had. The easiest had been the decent sized mahogany bed nestled proudly in the corner that he had brought down from the dusty attic piece by piece, the bed that had been his great-great grandfather's, then his great-grandfather's and finally his grandfather's nighttime resting place as a child but had eventually been relegated to the abandoned attic of the equally abandoned house nearly twenty years ago. He had carefully cleaned and polished each piece of wood before reassembling them for the first time in years and had it not been for the worn out, old mattress with the equally old sheets and blanket atop that he had had to place in the frame, the entire display would have looked brand new and in mint condition. Mint condition except for the large holes he had drilled through the bedposts to slide in the bolts that fastened the chains and shackles to the wood frame at the head and footboards. That had taken him nearly two days and had exhausted him by the time he had finished, but he was proud of his work and it motivated him to continue.

Physically exhausted but mentally invigorated, he had waited until well after nightfall to attempt the dangerous task that, if caught, would squash all of his careful planning and preparing. Climbing into his 'borrowed' vehicle, he drove the short distance between his hidden sanctuary and his destination in Rockford slowly and cautiously so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself, completing the trip unnoticed in a little over forty minutes. Pulling up to the back doors of the old, deserted building under the heavy cover of darkness, he felt a slight chill course up his spine at its sight. He knew the stories that came out of the now defunct Roosevelt Asylum and he also knew that it held exactly what he needed to make his dreams become real.

Killing the engine and headlights, the black car sat nearly invisible in the unlit space next to the building and Trent quickly left the vehicle behind to quietly sneak inside with a flashlight firmly gripped in his sweaty hand. Breaking in had been relatively simple, considering the door he had chosen to gain access to the old nut house had been left slightly ajar, probably in someone's rather hasty escape so as not to be discovered trespassing inside. He had never actually been in the building, but knew all the interesting activities had taken place in the south wing, so in that direction he promptly headed, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

Much to his surprise, he found exactly what he had been looking for quite easily and gathered up each and every necessary piece of equipment he could carry in one trip, taking only the items that looked to be in still working order. Working order was the key. He didn't want to come back if he didn't need to. That would only delay things, and he was too anxious to tolerate any more delays. That and the fact that the odd sounds and cold breezes in the place gave even him the creeps. Making his way back to the car as quickly as he had made his way inside, he securely placed his newfound treasures into the trunk and made his escape, satisfied he had gone totally undetected.

His sheer excitement at hitting pay dirt in Rockford had helped cut the time of the return trip down to just under thirty minutes, the adrenaline rush his thoughts gave him causing him to step on the gas a little harder then he really should have considering he was in a car that wasn't his and he didn't have permission from the owner to be driving. It really didn't matter at this point though. His father practically owned this town and a little grand theft auto would only garner him a slight slap on the wrists, if any punishment at all. He did breathe a small sigh of relief once he was safely back inside his shelter, knowing the only thing that could ruin his night was about to be tested.

Carefully cleaning each and every inch of his stolen property until it looked nearly new, he gingerly plugged the black electrical cord that ran to the wooden box resting on the small table he had positioned next to the bed and squeezed his eyes shut tight in preparation for just about anything. He half expected to blow every fuse in the house at the least, but when nothing happened as the prongs slid effortlessly into the slots of the socket in the wall, he silently cheered for his small victory. Turning from the wall to the awaiting device on the table, he opened the lid carefully so as not to break it and held his breath as he flipped the switch to bring it to life. The excitement he felt in the pit of his stomach only increased to encompass his entire body when he heard the machine whine as it was powered up and Trent was absolutely amazed that the thing actually worked after all those years of sitting unused and unwanted.

The machine may have power, but he still needed to know what it was ultimately capable of. Plugging in the last piece of the puzzle into is allotted slot, he turned the small, black dial on the control panel of the unit to its lowest setting possible and rested his pinky finger against the cushioned metal paddle. Giving the equally small red button a quick press, he jumped when he felt the shock shoot up his finger as it numbed half his hand. Letting a huge smile spread wide across his already grinning face, he cut the power to the miraculously functional archaic piece of electro-shock equipment that had been invented to help those that couldn't mentally help themselves and let his mind wander to envision just what he intended to do with it.

Yes, everything was finally in place now, everything but his soon to be Trish. At nearly four o'clock in the morning, he climbed on top of the lumpy bed he had so painstakingly made, closed his eyes and drifted off into a blissful sleep with a very satisfied look spread across his face. He would have the last remaining piece of his everything by this time tomorrow, and his fun would begin. His and if the hospital staff was as stupid as he thought them be, Dean's too.

End Notes: To everyone celebrating the long holiday weekend, enjoy! I know this is kind of dragging on, but I have to take it where my mind takes me. Thanks for reading and if the mood strikes to leave a comment, feel free!!