-1Here is the next installment of angst goodness for all of you loyal readers, Thank you so much for your reviews of the last chapter!!!! I hope you enjoy this one just the same I wish I could spout them out faster for you but with the holidays seriously just around the corner things are very hectic around here right now.

Rosebud

Bar Fights & Bullets

Chapter 8

10 Weeks and 2 days Earlier

Cold. Empty. Confined & Angry. Dean closed his eyes and tried to swallow down the sickness he felt rising up inside of him, his fingers shook as he let them glide over the cold bitter metal trapping him, slowly he could already feel it draining the life from his body. Taking his dignity, his soul and any remainder of the Dean Winchester he had been only seconds before.

It was easy to play pretend before now, to lay in that bed, flirt with the nurses, let Sam needlessly fuss over his every need. It was simple to act like everything was normal, like this was no worse then any hunting injury he had ever experienced… Like he was going to be able to get up and walk out of this stale smelling hospital any minute and never look back.

Until now.

"How does that feel?" The doctor's naggingly sweet voice broke through the pain that was currently engulfing the eldest Winchester's mind and soul pulling him back to reality as he opened his eyes.

Dean thought of many smart remarks, many bantered comments that could come flying from his lips in response to such a moronic question, but said nothing as he opened his eyes slowly only to be rewarded with the sight of Sam's pain filled and knowing gaze staring back at him.

His shoulders shrugged and he drew his lip into his mouth chewing on it lightly.

"Doc? Can you uh, give us a minute here please?" Sam questioned removing his gaze from his brother to the older man dressed in the white coat.

"Yeah, Sure. Of course." The doctor nodded and tucked the clipboard under his arm, "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you, I need to make my rounds anyway." He turned and headed for the door, signaling for Tyson, on of the hospitals PT's, a large man dressed in blue hospital scrubs, to fallow suit.

The minute the room was empty and the door was closed, closing the two brother's inside Sam kneeled down and exhaled knowingly as he placed a hand on his brother's knee, a bold move in an attempt to console him.

Dean was not a touchy feeling kind of guy, he was a stubborn pig-headed do it yourself man all the way, and there for physical contact was more often then not an unwelcome gesture, no matter who it was coming from.

"You alright?" He asked clearing his throat a little.

"Why…" it was now Dean's turn exhale, rubbing the bridge of his nose trying to force his tough guy image to stay in place, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't." Sam's voice was filled with warning.

"Don't what?"

"Don't pretend like everything is fine." He pushed lightly on the rough exterior of his brothers façade trying to break it down.

"What would you like me to do instead Sam? Cry? Scream? Throw something? You tell me how I'm supposed to act and I'll oblige." His voice dropped to a low mumble, "After all you're the one with the power now…"

Sam ran his free hand through his hair and shook his head, "I-I don't know Dean… But this, this isn't you… you can't just… pretend like everything is alright man, you can't just pretend that your alright with this… I know you better then that."

"Whose pretending Sam?" Dean's eyes flickered in anger and Sam actually felt a small amount of relief inside of him when they did so, at least it was a glimpse of a real human emotion. "Who the hell is pretending huh?… Do these look pretend to you? Does this chair look like a mirage? Like the minute I open my eyes it's going to go away and everything is going to be normal again?"

Every other emotion inside of him had dissipated now, Dean was left with only anger, not anger at Sam of course, but anger at everything, at what he had allowed himself to become, at this whole situation, at this damn metal he now gripped so tightly to…He was sick with anger and he could feel the hot stinging sensation of tears building in his eyes.

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW? YOU-YOU THINK I DON'T GET IT?…. "

Sam didn't bother to answer to his brother's rage, he didn't utter a word or even bat an eyelash, he simply stayed right where he was kneeled there in front of him, letting him lash out, letting his anger fly, letting him remember what it was like to feel something, letting the pain release from his brother and absorb into him instead… After all he was the one who should be taking the brunt of it anyway.

"I WANT OUT OF HERE…" Dean let his voice die down now, controlling himself once more his hands were shaking the only indication of his frazzled nerves as he shook his head and released his grip on the metal bars.

Sam swallowed his voice soft and calm as he found the will to speak again, fighting off the images of what he had just heard, just seen now replaying themselves in his mind. "The doctor's say you need to get use to it, you need to…. You know, get a feel for-"

"Not the damn chair Sam." Dean snapped a little harsher than he should have. "I want out of this hospital, I want to get back to the land of the living…"

"I don't-" Sam rolled his neck trying to figure out how delicately he could put the next words to come out of his mouth. "I don't think that is such a good idea…."

"If I wanted your opinion on the matter I would of asked you for it, all I need from you is to get them to let me out, I've been laid up in here long enough."

"Dean. Please man-"

"Get me out of here." Dean's voice was more pleading then demanding as he let his eyes soften looking directly into those of his brother.

"I just, if your not ready…"

"I'm ready." Dean's soul and mouth ached as he forced a small to form on his lips, it was a ghost of a real genuine smile that he used to wear. " I got a set of wheels… I'm as ready as I'm going to get, I need out of here…I can't breathe in here Sammy…"

Sammy… Sam hated it when his brother used that name, it meant that he was going to loose the fight, that he was unwillingly going to surrender and Dean would once again be crowned champion of winning arguments. "I'll see what I can do.."

Dean nodded he could tell by the sudden tensing in his brother's form that he was no where near at ease with the idea, but to be honest he didn't give a horses ass, he needed out, he needed something, he needed to be away, and he would play on whatever he could to make that happen as soon as possible. "And you might want to start looking for the next hunt while your at it… We've spent to long here-"

"NO!" Sam shook his head a father like quality taking over his voice.

"Sam…"

"Dean, You are not hunting, not anymore, not until… you know."

"I can do it."

"I said no." The younger man rose to his feet, "You want me to get you out of here, that's fine, I'll do what I can to make that happen if you think that's what you need to help you, but our hunting days are hiatuses until further notice…"

"But-"

"Don't fight me on this one… I've made up my mind, there's no way Dean."

"I can do it…" Dean repeated his weak defense once more looking everywhere now but into his brother's eyes, "It's my,.. it's our job."

"Not anymore it's not."

"Bullshit. I'm the older brother and what I say goes."

"Not this time no."

"Sam!"

Sam was growing frustrated now, he knew what was going on here, he knew what his brother was doing, and it all went back to the same word as before… Dean was pretending. Pretending that everything was the same as before, that he was going to leave the hospital and everything was going to resume as It had been before that horrible night.

Sam kneeled once more now placing both hands on his brother's thighs and forcing himself to look into those eyes of such a broken man, to be firm and father like in John's absence as he spoke. "You have to accept this…"

"For Christ sakes Sam." Dean let his own gaze fall.

"You are a human being and there are limitations… I know it's hard… "

"What-ever," came a grunted reply.

"Look me in the eye." Sam's nostrils flared a little, "Look me in the eye and tell me you can do this if you r so sure…."

Dean didn't look up though, not right away his eyes once again fixed on the chair confining him, his life less legs strapped into it, the sickness again finding it's way into his insides eating away at him slowly…..

He knew, he knew that Sam was right, that he couldn't hunt, that he was useless as a warrior now, that he didn't stand a chance on the battle field yet still the words could not find there way into his vocabulary.

He heard the door to the hospital room open and a sigh of relief came over him as the doctor reentered. He was safe for the moment.

Present Day

"You did really good today." Sam offered up as he now folded Dean's chair and placed it in the corner of the room glancing back over his shoulder to where the older exhausted man lay in bed already half asleep.

"Yeah, one day down and a life time to go…"

"Hey, no one knows how long this is going to take alright, but we will work at it as long as we need to…"

"Have you worked the possibility of never into that equation ?"

Sam shook his head knowing that this was just another self pity moment for his brother, moments that he chose most of the time to pay little attention to.

"Of course not, You've always been a glass half full kind of man haven't you?"

"What can I say? I'd rather drowned in milk then thirst for air…"

"Yeah well when you get sick of drowning let me know and I'll pull you back to the shores of reality…"

"Just get some sleep okay? We've got some long days a head of us."

"Yeah. Sure."

"Good night Dean."

Sam closed the door to the room and shook his head again, a side effect to this whole situation was depression, the doctors warned him about it, one minute he could be just fine and the next a short circuit somewhere inside of him could set off a whole wave of self hatred and self pity… It was a side of Dean he definitely wasn't use to, but that he dealt with just the same, just as he had the many other sides of his brother he was recently discovering…

"You alright son?"

Sam nodded absently before registering that his father was staring at him now as though he were growing a second head. "Yeah, fine… He's just in a mood is all."

"A mood?"

"Yeah, sometimes he gets a little depressed and the doctors say I just need to ignore it, let him ride it out on his own, you know."

"You'd think he'd be pleased with today's progress…"

"I'm sure he is.." Sam popped his neck, "You know how he gets though, he's not the most patient man I've ever met…"

"Truer words have never been spoken." John smirked a little, "I'm making a pot of coffee, you want?"

"Coffee? It's after 1130."

"Well what can I say? Once a night crawler always a night crawler…."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." The taller man nodded before fallowing his father toward the kitchen.

- Dean was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when his brow rose slowly and he forced his eyes to open fully glancing through the darkness toward the bottom of the bed.

He swore he felt something, he knew he felt something, like a pin prick against the bottom of his foot, fallowed closely by another and then another….

"What the hell?" He mumbled to himself wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, if the tranquilizers were screwing with his brain in someway…

He sat there for a minute and twenty six seconds, having nothing else to do but count the pin pricks prodding at the bottom of his left foot like cat claws….

He shook his head trying to wake himself further as he sat up forcing himself to a full sitting position He leaned down and pulled his feet over the side of the bed his head cocking to the side…

He thought briefly about calling for Sam, calling for John but dismissed the thought… This was probably just some mind trick anyway….

It took him a good three minutes to situate himself there on the edge of the bed to where he wouldn't fall over with an embarrassing thud leaning his shoulder and himself against the head board.

He bent down a little and gripped his left leg in his hand aligning it with the small night stand next to the bed he thrust his ankle against the wooden object as hard as he could, shock over whelming him as he did so….

He could feel it.

He repeated the action, again and again his eyes growing wider and wider with each thrust growing harder and harder.

- Sam took a sip of his coffee, his eyebrows raising as he put a hand up to shush his father who was in mid-sentence… "Do you hear that?"

John silenced his story and listened a resounding thud noise filling their ears from the other room over and over again.

"What the hell?" Sam climbed to his feet, John doing the same, the two of them heading toward the back of the house… toward Dean's room.

Sam stood at the door for a minute and listened sure enough that was where the noise was coming from, but what the hell as he doing in there? Pushing the door open and flipping on the light/// he froze inside the doorway staring in disbelief at what he saw John directly behind him in the same state.

Dean was hunched over against the headboard knocking his foot into the dresser like some crazy person repeatedly over and over again his foot and ankle red and raw, hand's shaking forehead sweating…

"Dean!" John's voice was thick with concern, "Son… what are you doing…"

Dean's head rose up and his hazel orbs were covered in a hopeful excitement, but also a confused type of fear all in one as he spoke his voice small….

"I can feel it."