Author's Notes: One step closer to the conclusion. And yeah. I'm kinda dragging my feet a little. I also want to apologize for not responding to the great reviews from the last chapter in a timely fashion. I know it's no excuse but my life has been a little out of sorts lately and while torturing Dean is great therapy that's totally free, expressing my own personal feelings is a whole different hill of beans. So I'll say thank you now and I promise I will respond to them properly soon. (Yeah, I'm whining. Sorry.)

Chapter 26

"Sam, it's well after four in the afternoon and I'm willing to bet we ain't gonna find anything in the few short hours we'll have before the damn library closes. Just stick that friggin' thing back into your pocket and we'll look into it tomorrow," Bobby stated rather crossly as if it hadn't been the first time he had make the exact same comment to the overly excited young man following closely behind him into the room.

"But Bobby, we've still got a couple hours be…" Sam started to argue, and quite obviously not for the first time either, before the older man stopped dead in his tracks and put his hand over Sam's mouth to silence him when he saw that Dean was not just deeply asleep but mumbling something he couldn't make out as he occasionally tossed and turned, the action of shutting Sam's annoying verbal discharge off serving a dual purpose. The last thing he wanted was Sam's big mouth to wake Dean from his conversation or his constant whine to continue to irritate him personally.

Sam opened his mouth to protest the abruptly rude way Bobby had shut him up until the older man pointed into the room directly at his sleeping brother and both men crept up slowly to the side of the bed as soundlessly as they possibly could, acutely tuning their ears to try and make out what Dean was saying and hoping that he wasn't just having a conversation with himself in whatever La La Land he may be in at the moment. Their hopes would be totally crushed when they made out a few words here and there that came from Dean's mouth as he let out an occasional moan or groan and both men couldn't help but just stare at one another and chuckle when they realized what it was that Dean was actually dreaming about.

"Oh baby… I know you like that…" was one of the first distinguishable phrases they heard and instead of shaking Dean enough to jar him not from his sleep but only from the his dreams, they decided to listen instead now that their amusement had been sparked, both men always on the lookout for potentially embarrassing material to use against the stubborn young man in the bed.

"Oh girl, Sammy just doesn't understand you like I do… you need to be treated like the lady that you are…"

Sam's wide smile turned into a slight scowl at the sound of his name coming from Dean's lips in what he could only describe as a creepy moan during what was not exactly a dream he really thought he should be a part of inside his brother's head and Bobby only laughed a little harder now that he had figured out something that Sam obviously hadn't realized yet. Bobby knew that Dean was not dreaming about a woman, even if Sam didn't.



"Oh baby, I've missed you so much… I'm gonna wax you and buff you like you've never been waxed before, then…"

That was the last thing Bobby could hear before he had to clamp his hand over his face to stifle the uproarious outburst that he was sure would erupt like a volcano if he listened to one more word the sleeping man said and as he turned to take off in a near run back the way he had come and out into the hallway, he barely made it through the door before he could hold his laughter no more. The wild hysterics echoing down the hall found their way into the room and the second Sam heard them he couldn't help but start laughing too now that the realization finally hit him. Dean was not dreaming about some big breasted woman in an overly tight sweater and painted o jeans but his damn car. That thought at least made him feel somewhat better because had that little excursion into his brother's normally perverted, slumbering head been something else, they both probably would have both needed therapy when Dean woke up. The controlled giggle coming from Sam's mouth seemed to quiet Dean's soft murmuring and the room fell silent for a few long moments before Dean actually spoke real, coherent words instead of the auto erotic fascinations he was murmuring earlier.

"Stop staring at me Sammy," Dean finally managed to say, his waking voice still raspy from the sleep it was trying so hard to pull itself from. "This gonna become a sick habit, you gawking at me every day?"

"I'm not staring at you Dean… or gawking," Sam chuckled back, noticing for the first time that the few movements his brother had made were slow and stiff, each one causing his face to twist or contort ever so slightly until he went still again and his muscles relaxed. "Dean, are you alright? You don't look very good."

"I'm just tired Sam…" he felt the need to remind his brother of the fact that by this time every day he was ready to pack it in, then felt the need to remind him of the rest as well. "…and in case you hadn't noticed, I was sleeping before you came storming in here."

"I know, I heard," Sam chuckled again, totally at his brother's expense. "Hey, sit up man; we brought you back something worthy of eating for a change."

"I'm not very hungry Sammy," Dean informed his suddenly overly cheerful brother as he made a monumental effort to roll over and turned his back to him, grabbing hold of the blanket that had worked its way down to his waist and pulling it back up to his chin again now that his bare upper half was starting to get chilled.

"Not even for a hot and greasy bacon double-cheeseburger, extra bacon and extra grease?" Sam teasingly asked back, reaching over Dean's body and shaking the bag gently in front of his face, the sight of the bag going unnoticed by the tightly closed eyes but the sound of the heavy contents being tossed around inside clearly heard. "No fries though. Bobby insisted on the burger, but I gotta draw the line somewhere."

"Aww, no fries… forget it then. That's like eating pancakes with no syrup or cookies with no milk," Dean quipped as he scrunched up his face in a mock look of displeasure and prayed that 

his little brother wasn't going to be the relentlessly persistent pain-in-the ass he usually was when he wanted things his way. "Seriously dude, I'm really not hungry right now. Maybe later, ok? I would kill for some water though. Think you can manage that for me?"

"Are you sure you're feeling ok?" Sam eyed him rather suspiciously and Dean knew that tone all too well. It was Sam's 'Dean, you're full of shit' tone and as much as he wanted to just curl up and go back to sleep, he knew he would now have to scam his little brother with some intelligent conversation for a while before passing out for the night again. "You really do look like crap today."

"I said I was fine Sam. I just need some water…please," he made his request again as he forced himself to roll over onto his back, then decided he would throw his brother a little bone in the hopes he would take it gladly and back off for a while. "I learned firsthand for the first time today how brutal Julia can really be and I'm just really sore and tired. That's all there is Sammy, end of story."

"But…" Sam started as he turned to hand Dean the plastic cup filled nearly to the rim he had in one hand as he depressed the button to raise the back of the bed up with the other when he heard the gruff voice that came booming in; it no longer holding the light tone of amusement that had initially driven it from the room in a fit of laughter in the first place.

"Sam, I need your help. Can you come here for a minute?" Bobby called and Sam nearly jumped at the sound.

Both brothers' eyes met, Dean's holding the suspicious look this time and Sam just shrugged innocently as he passed him the cup, turned around and walked out into the hall to see what the other man needed. He could feel a lump start to form in his throat when he saw Mark standing there waiting for him and it only got bigger when he saw the look on Bobby's face matched the doctor's own deep frown. His fast paced walk turned into a tentative creep as he made his way out of the room while a pretty, young nurse Sam hadn't seen before made her way in and he approached both men apprehensively with his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

"What now?" He asked, not caring how rude the question sounded. He was way beyond being polite at this point.

"Hey Sam. I was just telling your uncle that Julia really put Dean through the paces today so try to go easy on him tonight," Mark started to casually tell him and Sam could already tell not only by the way he said it but by his rigid body language that there was more to come.

"Yeah, he told me," Sam started to say, but decided right away he wasn't willing to wait for Mark to tell him whatever he had to say in a round-about way. "Can we just get straight to the point please?"

"Sam…" Bobby wanted to say something but the irritated younger man just cut him off.



"Bobby…Mark, just tell me whatever it is you're trying so hard not to say," he huffed out with the roll of his eyes.

Sam stood there in total silence as Mark went over the events of the morning, making a point of stating in colorful detail what all the nasty ramifications of what had been done could very well be, the possibilities of that tear not being healed enough very real and potentially dangerous should it reopen. Bobby could clearly see Sam's eyes narrowing in what could be nothing less than rage when he heard that Trent Waterson, yet again, had found a way to torture Dean just a little bit more. Sam really didn't care that Mark emphasized more than once that everything he had just told him was what could happen; not what would happen, because Trent was like an oppressively thick, heavy smog hovering over Dean's head at all times, just waiting for the chance to suffocate him.

"Just keep an eye on him tonight, ok? He's not on any pain meds right now, so unless he asks for them, he's not getting any. I know it's a shitty thing to do to him, but it's the only way for you two to be able to tell what's going on or if something's wrong. Make sure he eats something before he crashes for the night and if all's well by morning, I think everything will be fine. If he even remotely hints at feeling sick or having any pain in his stomach though, you have me paged immediately," Mark bottom-lined it for both men and they just silently shook their heads in agreement with no questions asked. When all three sets of eyes caught the nurse that had entered Dean's room as Sam had exited coming out again and approaching them rather red-faced as she waved the little cup she carried in her hand triumphantly at him, Mark just shook his head in a negative manner and frowned, leaving frowns all the way around the quiet little trio.

"That was an interesting experience," she stated, not finding any other words to describe her second encounter with the elder Winchester for the day. She had, after all, been the one to set this entire series of events into motion this morning and was beginning to regret ever coming to work on this floor.

"Did he give you any trouble?" Mark questioned her calmly, noting how flustered she was, but clearly seeing she had done her job.

"No, not exactly. He just… he wouldn't… I mean he couldn't… oh, never mind. I'll take this downstairs personally, and then I'm going home. Good night, Dr. Horton," she shyly answered with her eyes fixed on the floor and she quickly scuttled away when the last word came out of her mouth, leaving the three men to themselves once again.

"Well, I guess you can go back in there now. Good luck gentlemen. If I don't hear from anyone sooner, I'll be back in the morning."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam snorted, and rather sarcastically at that.

"Well, let's go Sam. Looks like we're babysittin' tonight," Bobby stated abruptly as he grabbed Sam by the coat sleeve and dragged him back into the room, not wanting to hear one whiny, complaint filled word from the younger brother's mouth when he could see by the look on Sam's 

face that they were all poised on his tongue and ready to fly as Mark walked away. Bobby knew he would never say a word in front of Dean and that's exactly the way he wanted it to stay.

Dean glanced at the door disinterestedly as both men walked in, his mind clearly elsewhere and lost deep inside in his own thoughts judging by the blank look on his face as he sat mostly upright in his bed with his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling. Unfortunately for Dean, Sam was thankful he was still awake and intended on keeping him that way for a while. Putting on his best happy face, he casually strolled up to his brother's side and started speaking to him like nothing strange was going on in their universe.

"Cute girl. By the way you made her blush, I'd say I think she likes you," Sam lightheartedly tried engaging Dean into some friendly brotherly banter that Dean was most definitely not in the mood for judging by his sudden response.

"Dude, that was the most humiliating experience of my life! How do they expect you to pee in a cup when they're standing there watching you? I mean, hasn't she ever heard of performance anxiety? All she had to do was turn around for Christ's sake! She didn't have to…" he caught himself before he could finish that outburst when he quickly realized what he was about to announce and Sam took hold of the unintentional bait he dropped.

"She didn't have to do what Dean? What did she do?" Sam egged his brother, figuring his irritation alone would keep him awake for hours.

"None of your damn business what she did Sam, just forget it," he nearly growled, the amused look that had returned to Sam's face only annoying Dean more. Desperately wanting to change the subject now that he was indeed partially awake, he asked the question that would leave the last item up for discussion totally forgotten. "You two find anything useful out today or was the entire day just a big waste of time?"

"We found this," Sam excitedly blurted out when Dean asked and pulled something from his deep inside his jacket pocket that he had tucked away when Bobby had nearly yelled at him as they walked into the room. Handing Dean the small, black and white photo he held in his hand, he just stared at his brother and waited for him to respond.

"Yeah, so? It's an old picture of an even older house in the middle of what looks like nowhere. What's the point?" Dean stated as he tossed the faded photo back in his brother's direction and frowned again, not sharing Sam's enthusiasm at the little find.

"We checked all the Waterson properties out Dean, and I'm telling you, we never came across that house," Sam told him and waited for Dean to pick up on his line of thinking.

"What makes you think this is a Waterson house?" He asked, not seeing the connection. "Just because the man has an old picture of some old house doesn't mean it's in his family."

"Take a closer look at it Dean," Sam shoved the picture back into his brother's hand and waited for him to look at it, actually look at it.



The photo was of a large, two story farmhouse standing proudly behind two of the biggest, tallest Weeping Willow trees Dean had ever seen, the trees themselves being nearly as tall as the house itself. There was a car parked between one of the trees and the house and Dean placed it as being an old Model T from the early twenties. Standing on the porch that spread the entire length of the home were a man in a neatly tailored suit and a woman holding a small baby in her arms. Dean was starting to figure out his brother's thought process when he flipped the picture over and read what was written on the back. 'Trent -1921' was still clearly visible even with the extremely faded ink it had been written in standing out against the yellowed paper backing. Handing the photo back to his brother, Dean raised his eyebrows and stated the obvious.

"Uh Sammy, I may be wrong on this, but I'm pretty sure Trent's not 86 and if he is, that finally makes him our kind of problem."

"No Dean, he's not 85, but I'd be willing to bet he's got a grandfather or a great-uncle that is. We didn't bother to go any further back into the Waterson family history then his parents," Sam said as he shot the silent Bobby an annoyed glance before continuing, "That's why I wanted to hit the library tonight. I bet if we can find this house, we can find Trent's hiding place."

"What's the matter Geekboy, can't find it on your trusty Tonto laptop there?" Dean snarked and Sam just rolled his eyes. "What makes you so sure this is the place anyway?"

"I don't know, its just a feeling I have," was all Sam could say because it was the only answer he really had.

"Well, I'm sure you'll still have that feeling in the morning Nostradamus," Bobby finally said something as he silently reminded Sam with the look on his face that they had more important things to worry about for the rest of the night. Grabbing the bag Sam had deposited onto the bedside table, the older man dropped it in Dean's lap and flatly told him what he was going to do, the way he stated the phrase leaving no room for argument from the younger man. "You… eat that, now. You ain't going back to sleep 'til you do."

Dean rather reluctantly forced himself to down what he knew both men had thought they had been doing him a favor by bringing to him after a few short words of protest while Sam took his brother's advice and booted up his laptop to begin a cursory search for any information he could find on the rest of the Waterson clan, which ended up being not really much beyond the current patriarch of the family and his father before him, interestingly enough not named Trent. Totally frustrated with his lack of internet results, he just closed the lid and tossed the computer down next to him onto his bed, never once realizing that neither of the other two men in the room had said a word to the other in the longest time until he noticed that both Dean and Bobby had fallen fast asleep now that it was well after nine. Glancing quickly in Bobby's direction as he rose from his seated position on the bed, he crossed to the room to stare a little more intently at his brother, who hadn't moved not once since he'd looked at him last, which had surprisingly been hours ago. Aside from being all too still, Sam could see nothing else amiss in his brother's condition and deciding it was time to join the fray, he turned off all the lights and dropped himself onto his bed, his mind falling into sleep nearly as fast as his head hit the pillow.



Something harshly jolted Sam from his dreamless sleep and he jerked his body quickly into a seated position to scan the room for whatever it was that had caused the offending sound. It didn't take him long to realize it was morning when he saw the perky young girl bent over trying to clean up the mess she had made when she accidentally dropped the metal tray sporting what the hospital considered breakfast food she had been carrying with her all over the floor and much to Sam's dismay the shocking sound hadn't even caused Dean stir, who was still relatively out of it in his bed across the room. For the first time in days, Dean wasn't up before the sun and Sam didn't like that, not one bit. Glancing to the chair Bobby had been planted in the night before, he quite noticeably found it empty but wasn't the least bit surprised either. Climbing off the bed nearly as fast has he had sat up, he bent down next to the young girl frantically trying to erase any evidence of her small blunder.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she stammered as she scooped up the last few remains of the unidentifiable splattering up and wiped the floor clean with a towel and Sam just smiled at her warmly. "I'll bring in another one right away."

"Hey, it's ok. I needed to get up anyway." he reassured her and she breathed a small sigh of relief that he wasn't angry. He waited for her to come and go again before shaking his brother awake and if Sam didn't know better, he would have sworn Dean had fallen back into a coma again for how heavily he had been sleeping.

"Dean, wake up damn it," he finally barked nearly right in his brother's ear as he resorted to the drastic measures of pinching a chunk of skin on Dean's shoulder between his finger and thumb, the painful twisting of his flesh being the ultimate cause for his arousal.

"Ow, what the hell Sam," he groaned himself awake as he first rubbed the red mark now forming on his upper arm then wiped a finger at the dry, crusty sleep in his eyes and blinked repeatedly to focus on Sam's somewhat concerned face. It didn't take him long to realize that something was wrong when he felt the nagging ache that had been in his stomach the night before make its presence known in a much harsher way and it took all the effort he had to not let it show on his face every time he tried to move or shift his body into a more comfortable position, if one even existed. Giving up on finding a spot that didn't really bother him in one way or another, he just sat there and waited for Sam to speak.

"Hey, are you awake now?" Sam asked what Dean thought to be one of the dumbest questions he had ever heard from his brother in their entire lives.

"Are my eyes open?" His annoyed response indicated he was not only awake but mildly pissed off. "Did you really have to wake me up like that?"

"You didn't answer me when I shook you the first two times, so yeah; I had to wake you up like that. God Dean, you were so out of it just now I thought you were…"

"You thought I was what Sam…uhh, sleeping maybe?"

"Never mind. How do you feel?"



"Why do you have to ask me that ten times a day Sam? I'm fine, damn it. Do I need to tattoo it on my forehead for you?"

"Only if I can tattoo 'bullshit' in parenthesis right underneath it, or better yet, maybe on the palm of my hand," Sam smirked and had Dean not been using all his willpower to hide his discomfort from his overly astute baby brother, he probably would have found that amusing. "Here, eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Dean took one look at the conglomerated slop atop the tray Sam shoved before him and had to take in a deep breath to stifle the urge to gag when he not only saw it but caught a whiff of it. He knew if Sam moved that pile one inch closer to him he wouldn't be eating it but only succeeding in adding to it, assuming there was anything left in his stomach to offer up and he realized that it wasn't the food that was bothering him, it was him that was bothering him. He curled his nose up and pushed the tray back the way it had come from and before Sam could say a word, Dean cut him off.

"Too late dude, it's already cold and you know I can't eat cold oatmeal… at least I think that's oatmeal. Hard to tell by that funky gray color it's turning."

"Dean…" Sam said in a warning tone but Dean wasn't backing down.

"Sam, I'm not eating it and you can't make me. Go call Bobby and see where he is. He's probably on his way back from a coffee run anyway. You can tell him to stop and get some real food, then I think you've got a library to spend a fun-filled day at, don't you?"

"Dean…" he just repeated and it seemed that both bulls would be locking horns any second, the only thing saving them from ramming straight into one another being Bobby's well timed return to the room carrying a big, white box proudly displaying 'Krispy Kremes' on the top and a drink carrier full of coffee cups.

"Hah, see Sammy, Bobby knows how to take care of me," Dean proclaimed with a slight hint of victory in his tone as Sam just continued to glare at him. Dean could tell by the look on his brother's face that he thought 'bullshit' was probably an understatement today but he also knew that he'd have a much easier time with donuts then that shit heaped on the tray to help convince his little brother he really was fine. Donuts he thought he could do, mystery breakfast he knew he could not.

"Gee boys, did I miss the whole entire pissing contest?" Bobby sardonically asked both men as he added his own glare to Sam's and Dean suddenly felt even more uncomfortable in his own skin than he already did. "Guess I don't need to ask who won, do I?"

"What? Why do you two keep staring at me like I just took the last cookie in the jar?" He couldn't help but inquire, the constant stares starting to unnerve him.

"Because you look like hell kid," Bobby answered for both of them, pretty sure that was exactly what Sam was thinking.



"Yeah… well, I feel like hell too, thanks. Every inch of my body is stiff and sore and in less than two hours that wicked witch is gonna come walking through that door and make me do everything I just did yesterday all over again which is not gonna help my already less than sunny disposition any so excuse me if I don't look so damn pretty today, ok?" Dean intentionally added a definite whine to his tone as he tried defending himself, hoping to make both men feel guilty that they were treating him like a child. When he saw both sets of eyes drop from his face and drift away in different directions, he knew it had worked. God bless Julia and her relentless torture of him yesterday because he was using it to its fullest extent today. "If you guys don't mind, do you think you could just go and do your thing today and leave me alone to do mine?"

Bobby was the first to react to Dean's rather emotional outburst and all the middle man could do was smile internally when he saw the oldest of the three smack the youngest in the arm, grab one of the three cups still tucked in the holder he had in his hand and place it gently on the bedside table next to Dean, then turn his glare to Sam instead. "Come on boy, get dressed and let's get out of here."

"But…" Sam started to argue, then immediately shut himself up when Dean reached for the cup next to him and started sucking down coffee like it was the last time he would ever get the chance to drink his favorite strong, black liquid. As Dean silently sipped at the contents, Sam silently dressed and Bobby silently watched Dean and waited and when Sam was ready to go, they silently went.

Once he thought the coast was clear, Dean let out the breath he had been holding off and on since Bobby had come back into the room accompanied by the long, pained groan that he couldn't stop from coming out with it and wrapped an arm around his stomach as the hot coffee he had forced in under Sam's watchful eye was threatening to force its way right back out. He could only hope that the cold sweat he had broken out in was from that same hot fluid he really had drank entirely too fast but judging by the clenching in his stomach, he highly doubted it. When the urge fully hit, he moved as quickly as he could; first placing both feet on the floor and supporting himself against the bed before reaching for the bedside table first, then the chair next to it as he awkwardly made his way to the bathroom. Once safely inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it before grabbing for the toilet and lowering himself to the floor, patiently waiting for the inevitable to just come. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there hugging the cool porcelain as the intense urge to throw up mercifully passed on its own without producing its much undesired result and he was sure he could have just closed his eyes and gone right back to sleep where he sat the moment he started feeling somewhat normal again until the sound of Sam's voice booming into the room jerked him back to reality.

"Hey Dean, are you in there?" Sam questioned as he pounded on the door and Dean sucked in a deep breath and tried to make himself sound as normal as possible.

"Yeah, what?" He responded, wondering what the hell Sam could possibly be back for and knowing he couldn't stay in there all day should Sam have decided to stay.



"I'm gonna leave my phone here for you, just in case you need something, ok?" Sam announced, the 'just in case' indicating to Dean that Sam wasn't entirely convinced Dean was as ok as he was leading them to believe.

'Damn it Sam, why do you gotta be so damn smart?' He asked himself before responding to his little brother, already suspecting what was on Sam's mind. "Ok, thanks. Just don't be calling me all day dude, I've got plans today."

"Yeah, yeah. Later dude, have fun with your new best friend," Sam casually joked and Dean nearly cried when he heard the blessed sound of Sam's long feet shuffling away from the door. He waited for the longest time before trying to get back on his feet and when he decided he just couldn't do it, he crawled from the bathroom back to his bed, slowly climbed up and back under the covers and waited for the rest of his hellish day to begin. He had no idea what time it actually was, but knew that Mark would be showing up soon and there was nothing he could do at this point to hide his gradually worsening condition. He could only hope that whatever it was that was ailing him, Mark could fix it before Sam came back.

Once he finally found himself in a somewhat comfortable position, he let his heavy head fall against his pillow and sat there unmoving, watching the door and waiting for Mark to come. The minutes seemed to drag slowly on until they turned into hours and much to Dean's surprise not only had Mark not shown up at his usual time but Julia hadn't either. By nearly eleven, Dean had dropped off into a light sleep, the increasing pain in his lower abdomen preventing him from dropping off any further but all the while wondering why Julia hadn't shown up yet but thanking god that she hadn't. He vaguely heard the muffled beeping of his watch striking noon in the closet across the room, but it was the voice he heard that started bringing him around again.

"Dean, wake up," she whispered softly in his ear and it somewhat startled him that she was that far into his personal space. He liked her, but not like that.

"I don't feel so good Julia; can we not do this today?" He mumbled back, knowing there was no way now he was setting one foot out of his bed the rest of the day. His head was throbbing, his stomach was tied in painful knots, and his mouth felt like someone had stuffed an entire field of cotton plants in it while he was sleeping.

"Come on Dean, wake up please. I need your help… she needs your help," the familiar voice verbally prodded him again and as Dean drifted closer to awareness, he realized it wasn't Julia talking to him.

"Trish? What the hell's going on? Who needs my help?" He groggily asked as he tried to sit up a little straighter, the sudden movement readily reminding him why he was grateful he'd been left alone in the first place.

"My brother's back Dean, and he's got her," she woefully told him and she suddenly had his totally undivided attention. "You've got to help her Dean,"

"He's got who? Who's he got Trish?"



"He's got Julia, that's who."

End Notes:As always, that's for reading and reviewing. It really means the world to me. (See what I mean about expressing my feeling...yak!)