Okay, you folks are amazing! I am completely overwhelmed by the number of people following this fic (and those of you kind enough to post a review) despite the lack of alerts. Thank you, thank you! Now that hotshow has blessed this chapter, I am passing it on to you. Enjoy!!
(Oh, and yes – I fully intend to have this fic wrapped up well before June, barring any illness or massive life-changing circumstances. No idea how long it will actually be, though.)
Chapter 8
Dean sat in the waiting room, one knee bouncing nervously. There was every chance this doctor would turn them in and hand Sam over to that bitch, but he had to try to find out what was going on. Why was Sam so clumsy all the time? If it were getting better he would be inclined to ignore it, just chalk it up to what happens when you bruise your brain. But this was growing decidedly worse, and Dean was not sure how much more he could take.
Wasn't it bad enough that Sam thought he was a little kid? And there was a demon breathing down their necks? And Dad died? How much more shit could possibly be piled on?
"Dean?" Sam patted his knee. "You scared?"
Dean forced his face to smile. "Scared? Sammy, what would make you say that?"
"So you're not scared of the new doctor?" Sam asked. "I'll let you hold my Batman." He offered the toy.
Dean chuckled. What a sweet kid. How the hell did he and Dad wind up with such a sweet kid? "No, that's okay, Sammy. I'm good."
"Then why does your knee keep bouncing like that?" Sammy pointed at his leg.
Dean looked down at his bobbing knee. He put a hand out to stop it. "I'm just tired of waiting, Sammy. It's called impatience." Dean smiled smugly as he saw that Sam believed him.
"Oh, okay." Sam set Batman back in his own lap. "I think Batman's kinda nervous about the new doctor, though."
"Why is that?" Dean asked, his eyes sliding over to watch Sam.
Sam leaned over to whisper, "Batman thinks the new doctor might work for Catwoman."
"Oh," Dean figured Sam was worried about that bitch finding him. "In that case, we'll have to be really careful."
Sam nodded seriously, jumping when the nurse called, "Sam Cooper!"
"That's you," Dean whispered, standing. He felt Sam's hand grab the back of his shirt as they followed the nurse into an exam room. Who knew Bobby had the kind of connections to get a same-day appointment with a neurologist? He guessed Sam's little collapsing act scared Bobby even more than it did him, and that was saying something.
The exam room was painted a pale blue-green which Dean found oddly comforting, despite the fact he was certain no man would ever choose that color. There were several padded chairs in the room in addition to the exam table, so they sat in the chairs. Dean answered a few more questions for the nurse before she left.
"Well?" Sam demanded when they were alone.
"Well what, Sammy?" Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother.
"Does the doctor work for Catwoman?" he asked, his face very serious.
If Dean did not understand what Sammy meant, he might think it was funny. Or cute. "I don't know yet, Sammy. Let's at least meet the doctor first, okay?"
Sam chewed his bottom lip. "If you say so, Dean." But he hugged his Batman close to his chest.
Doctor Wayne appeared sometime within the next twenty minutes, interrupting Batman battling the evil Catwoman right after blowing up the Joker's lair. He was a younger doctor, maybe ten years older than Sam, with thin gold rimmed glasses and short, straight black hair. He smiled at them as he entered and immediately shook both their hands.
"So, why have you come to see me today? I understand Sam is having some problems?" He looked at Sam who pointedly looked at Dean.
"Well, he, uh," Dean raged an internal battle between telling the truth and creating a lie that would keep them out of Catwoman's clutches. With a groan, he made his decision. One way or another, he knew it was the right decision for Sam. If he had to take some risks to ensure Sam's health, he would. "His last doctor was this bitch Jefferies in the next state. We didn't care for her too much, so we left. He has amnesia and he's falling down a lot, like he's really clumsy. Only Sam has never been clumsy, and we need to know what the hell is going on."
"Jeffries?" Doctor Wayne peered through his spectacles. "Elizabeth Jeffries?"
Dean nodded as he heard Sam gasp. He could have sworn Sam whispered, "Not Catwoman!"
Doctor Wayne looked down at his file then back up at them. "I know Elizabeth lost a patient recently by the name of Mahogoff, with symptoms similar to the ones you are describing. How fortunate your last name is Cooper, so I don't need to report you." He smiled at Dean. "She may be a colleague, Mister Cooper, but I don't care for her too much either."
Dean let out the breath he had been holding. "So where do we go from here?" he asked.
Wayne took out a pad and started scribbling. "When you say Sam is clumsy, can you describe that? How clumsy? How often does this clumsiness occur?"
"Well, he might stumble over something, or trip getting into the car. Last night he actually fell down after just turning around." Dean wondered why the doctor was more concerned with the clumsiness than the amnesia. He had expected to need to put up more of a fight to get Sam the attention he was certain his little brother needed.
Doctor Wayne nodded, scribbling in Sam's file and then on the pad again. "Sam? Can you tell me how you feel when this happens?" The doctor's gaze shifted to Sam.
Sam shrugged. "I didn't remember tripping in the car. Dean told me. Last night I just got dizzy. I don't really like it, but it doesn't bother me. Dean, can we go now?" he pleaded.
Doctor Wayne stared at Sam for a long moment before shifting his attention back to Dean. "The amnesia. Any idea how much your brother has forgotten?"
Dean cleared his throat. "A lot."
"Can you be more specific?" the doctor insisted.
Dean motioned for the pen and paper. Wayne handed them over and Dean wrote 'He thinks he is 5' while shielding it from Sam, who kept trying to look over his shoulder. Persistent bastard. He handed the paper and pen back. The doctor read the note carefully, his face giving nothing away.
"Just based on your descriptions, I'd guess that the dizziness and clumsiness are the results of mild strokes. I've seen similar symptoms in women who smoke and are on birth control. Of course, we would need to run a few tests to verify this and see if there is any real damage from them. And no," Wayne held up a hand as Dean opened his mouth, "I have no idea what would be causing strokes at this point, although I am certain it must be related to the same head trauma causing the amnesia.
"Now, our hospital, which is right next door, does these tests on weekends. I will be covering for the attending tomorrow, so I would like to do the tests in the morning. If that is all right with you two?" He searched their faces.
Stunned, Dean could only nod. In just a few minutes, this man had earned more trust and respect from him than Jeffries had in days. What a bitch! He turned to look at his brother. "Sound good, Sammy?"
"What's your name again?" Sam asked.
"I am Doctor Wayne."
Sam grinned. "That means you can't like Catwoman. Okay, Dean. He can be the doctor." He nodded at Dean.
Dean had to think about that one. Doctor Wayne can't like Catwoman? Then he wanted to slap himself in the forehead. He wondered if Bobby picked this guy because he was the only neurologist in town, he had a good reputation, or because of the man's damn name. Tonight he and Bobby were having another long talk.
"We, uh, don't have insurance," Dean said. "But I am starting a job next week, if you're willing to work out a payment plan."
Doctor Wayne smiled. "We can make arrangements through the hospital based on your income. I consider myself in debt to Mister Singer for taking care of ahem a problem. It's the very least I can do."
Dean nodded seriously. "Understood. Really appreciate this, doc." He stood and shook Wayne's hand again. He hated having to accept any type of charity, but this was for Sammy. Besides, working out a payment plan had to be better than insurance scams or credit card fraud. Sam would approve.
After getting instructions and directions from the front desk, Dean turned to his brother. "Ready to head back now, Sammy?"
Sammy shook his head. "Can we eat first?"
"Sure. Why not?" Dean headed out the door, glancing back periodically to be sure Sammy was behind him. When they reached the elevator, he felt a hand wind into the back of his shirt. At least he did not have to wonder if Sammy was with him like that. When they reached the parking lot, he felt the pull on his shirt. Desperately trying not to sigh, Dean held out his hand. Sam's hand grabbed his and they walked to the Impala.
After unlocking Sam's door and making sure his brother was safely inside, Dean slid in behind the wheel. "Sammy, how about we hit a place I like?"
"You don't like the places I like, Dean?" Sammy asked, sounding hurt.
Dean cleared his throat. "I just meant, I'd like to go to a place where we can raise a little cash. That's all."
"Oh." Sam was silent until they reached the bar and grill Dean spotted on the way in. "How can you get money here, Dean?"
Dean cut the motor before answering. "A couple of games of pool, Sammy." He turned to face his brother. "You remember Dad playing pool for money?"
Sammy nodded, holding Batman closer. Dean wondered if taking the toy inside was such a good idea. He could see it causing a fight later on, but maybe if they left before dark…
"Good. When I lose, don't say anything, okay? It's all part of the game," Dean explained.
Sammy nodded again. "I don't like it when Dad does that. Sometimes there are fights."
Dean maintained eye contact. "If a fight starts, I want you to get out of there and wait for me by the car. Okay? Sammy? Got that?"
Fingers lifted to Sam's mouth and he chewed on his cuticle. Dean waited for an acknowledgement. When he did not get one, he tried again. "You hear me, Sammy? If a fight starts I want you to come out here."
He chewed his cuticle and gave a quick nod. The brief shake of shaggy brown hair would have to satisfy him, Dean guessed. "Let's go."
Dean figured they needed to eat first, just in case his pool hustling required a quick exit. The burgers were decent, even if he did have trouble convincing Sam french fries were vegetables because they were made from potatoes. Sam insisted on something with veggies, since he was growing so well. The place did not have a vegetable plate, which did not surprise Dean, but there was a side available of grilled veggies so Sam would have to be happy with that.
Dean watched the pool tables while they ate, evaluating and judging the players he saw. He chose his target before the bill arrived. After they paid for the meal and Dean ordered a beer, strictly for show during the game, he motioned for Sammy to follow. They walked over to the pool tables and hung back to watch Dean's target finish off his opponent.
"Dean?" Sammy whispered in his ear. "Does that man want my toy?"
Dean spun around. A man who looked like he bench pressed pickup trucks and tortured puppies for fun stared at Sam with a look of disgust on his face. This did not look good. Dean debated between facing down the asshole making Sammy uncomfortable or hustling pool. Either was just as likely to start a fight, especially with Sam carrying a kid toy around everywhere. Dean chose to hustle, because they might need the money tomorrow at the hospital.
"Don't worry about it Sammy. Just sit over there." Dean pointed out a bar stool behind the pool table against the wall. "Dude," he smiled at his target, "ready for a real game?"
After Dean lost the first game, he noticed Sam looked worried. While his opponent racked, Dean sauntered over to nudge Sammy's shoulder. He winked at his little brother. "How's Batman?"
Sammy shrugged. "Robin's worried about him."
"Yeah? Why?" Dean cast an eye around the place. Things appeared quiet enough, but that guy was still staring at Sammy. It sent a cold chill down his spine.
Sammy leaned over to whisper, "He's thinks maybe Batman is in danger."
"One more game, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Then we can go."
He knew the hundred dollars over his initial investment that was riding on this game would not go far to cover any hospital bills, but at least his wallet would not be empty. With one eye on Sam, Dean proceeded to take the next game easily. He took his money off the corner of the table and jerked his head at Sam. Sammy leapt up to follow.
As Dean approached the door, his stomach dropped. Tall, dark and psycho blocked their way.