Thanks again to hotshow, my guiding light, and to everyone following this story. I never expected this kind of response. Thanks again and again!!
Chapter 12
Dean rolled out of bed bright and early. They had an eight am appointment at the hospital for Sam's tests. He grabbed a quick shower and dressed before waking Sammy. It amazed him that Sammy could sleep so well. Sam was practically an insomniac since Jess died. He supposed there were some advantages to amnesia, even weirdo amnesia.
Sammy dressed slowly, clearly not happy about going to the hospital today. A single stern look was enough to silence his brother's mumbled whining. With Sammy dressed, they went downstairs. Bobby sat at the kitchen table, reading the morning paper and sipping a cup of coffee.
"Morning," Dean said as he headed to the cabinets to prepare two bowls of Lucky Charms.
"Mornin'," Bobby grumbled. "Sleep well?"
"I had a really cool dream about the Thundercats," Sammy said as he sat at the table. "Want to hear about it?"
Bobby folded the paper and set it aside. "Shoot."
Sammy grinned. "All the Thundercats came for a visit and we played some really cool games. They were really good at hide-n-seek, I never could find them. But when we played the hand game, I won that."
Dean set the cereal bowls on the table. "What's the hand game?"
"You know," Sammy held up his hands and made swiping motions through the air.
Dean froze. If there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was that Sam at five had not learned to fight yet. Not really.
"Stand up," he said. Sammy gave him an odd look, but his brother stood. Dean took a swing at Sam, intentionally pulling just short of actually touching his brother's face. Sam's hand flew up to block it. He tried with the other hand, same result.
"Dean?" Sammy grinned at him. "I think I remember playing this game with you."
Sammy listed to the side. Dean reached out, grabbed Sam by the shoulders and guided him back into the chair. Sammy sat there, his face blank, for several seconds. Then a smile rose. "That's good, right? That I remembered?"
"Sammy. Do you remember sitting down just now?" Dean asked, heart slamming into his breastbone.
Sammy looked around. He frowned. "Not really. Where's the milk?" He pulled a bowl toward him.
Dean rubbed both hands over his face as he turned to fetch the milk. It was a really good thing they were already headed to the hospital. He felt Bobby's eyes on him from the moment he turned around until he poured the milk into his and Sammy's bowls. Dean shot Bobby a strong look before putting the milk away. When he sat down to eat, Bobby was reading the paper again. Well, at least the old man was pretending to read the paper; Dean had his doubts.
Silence filled the kitchen while they ate. He checked his watch. It was almost time to go. "Sammy, go get Batman. We need to hit the road."
"K, Dean." Sammy jumped up from the table and raced out of the room.
Dean put the dishes away, rinsing the bowls before leaving them in the sink. He turned to say something to Bobby, but Bobby was standing watching him. "I don't know how long we'll be."
"No problem. I'm bringing a book for you to read." Bobby stepped out of the room. He returned with an old volume that obviously resided in one of the many stacks throughout Bobby's house. When Dean held out his hand, Bobby scowled at him. "I said, I'm bringing it."
"You're coming with us?" Dean asked, more surprised than anything.
Bobby harrumphed. "If yesterday was any indication, you don't need to sit in a hospital waiting room alone. See ya at the car." Bobby walked out before Dean could protest.
"I got Batman!" Sammy announced, holding out the black clad action figure. "Do we really have to go? I don't like the noisy machine and having to hold still all the time." Sammy scowled.
Dean resisted sighing. He had been doing far too much of that lately. It was time for a better attitude about this whole thing. "Sammy, get in the car." That was better, he told himself. He did not sigh, groan or roll his eyes.
The drive to the hospital was uneventful, though Sammy did complain about the music enough to make Dean just turn off the damn radio. Silence was better than whining. Bobby tried to ask more about Lion-o, but Sammy did not have any new answers for him. When Bobby tried pressing for more information, Sammy stared out the window, refusing to turn around or respond.
It was a good sized hospital considering the relatively small town they were in. Dean supposed it was because this hospital had to service the entire county. That made sense. Despite the size, it still had a small town feel. The nurse who handled out-patients recognized Bobby, so they chatted while Dean found a place to sit. Sammy sat next to him, slouching down, hiding behind his bangs.
"What's Batman up to today?" Dean asked, trying to shake Sammy's mood.
Sammy shrugged. "Don't like tests."
"Yeah, I know." A sigh slipped out. Damn it! "But we need to find out why you keep falling down, Sammy."
Sammy looked up at him, hopeful. "What if I promise not to do it again?"
"I wish it were that simple. I really do." Dean shook his head. "What does Batman say about it?" He pointed to the toy clutched in one of Sammy's hands.
Sammy groaned. "He says I need to be brave."
"There you go." Dean nodded, eyes darting back to the nurses' desk.
A couple sat down opposite them. The woman gave him a faint grin while the man leaned forward, hand outstretched. "Marty. This here's muh wife Birdie." He grinned broadly.
Dean shook the man's hand, unsure what to make of him. "Dean." He nodded to the side. "Sam."
"Nice ta meetcha, nice ta meetcha." Marty's head bobbed.
"Don't you mind Marty, now," Birdie jumped in, "he's never met a stranger, that one." Her accent was different, Dean could not quite place it, but it was pleasant enough.
Marty's grin broadened. "True, true. Whereabouts you folks live? In the county?"
That sounded safe enough. Dean nodded.
"Graveyard," Sammy said.
"What's that?" A shocked look replaced Marty's grin. "You live in a graveyard?"
"For cars." Sammy replied with a nod. He held up his bandaged hand. "Have to be careful when you play outside."
Dean saw Birdie's eyes drop to the toy in Sammy's other hand before she smiled at him. "Yes, I suppose so. What is a car graveyard?" Her eyes shifted to Dean.
Dean cleared this throat. "Auto salvage yard." He felt his defenses kick in. These people better watch it.
"Ya live inna salvage yard? Tha only person I know like that is Singer." Marty replied, the shocked look still intact. Dean fought back the urge to scowl, forcing his face to blank.
"Bobby's right there," Sammy pointed out their friend, who was grinning at the nurse and writing something down.
"Ya live wid Bobby?" The shocked look was accompanied by Marty throwing himself backward, hard, into the chair. "I dinna know Bobby had family."
"How do you know Bobby?" Dean asked, cutting off whatever Sammy had been going to say. He heard his brother's mouth snap shut. Out of the corner of his eye he watched for signs of a temper tantrum or just outright moodiness. So far, so good.
"Ah likes ta go ta Singer's fer special parts," Marty winked at Dean. "Me and the missus. A safe home is a happy home, ah likes ta say."
"Nice saying." Dean refused to take the bait. He was not discussing their personal business with complete strangers.
"Marty! Birdie!" Bobby took the seat next to Birdie. "You're the last people I expected to see today. What are you doing here?"
Marty reached over his wife to shake Bobby's hand. "Jus some tests, Bobby. Nuthin' ta worry 'bout."
"He doesn't believe that for a second, Bobby." Birdie smiled at her husband. "Even though it's the truth. Bobby, why didn't you tell us you had family coming? We would have invited you all over for dinner. So these boys are…?" She let the words hang, clearly hoping Bobby would fill in the blank.
"Nephews," Dean said with a grin. "Uncle Bobby insisted we stay with him for a while."
Bobby squirmed in his seat. That's what you get for inviting yourself along, Dean thought, as he continued to grin at Bobby. The older man seemed to get it, nodding in defeat.
"Yep, the only family I got left," Bobby agreed. Dean was surprised at the sincerity in the man's tone. He wondered if Bobby was just the master of sincerity, or if he was being truthful. "Sam here needs a few minor tests done, so I figured why not here?"
"Good, good," Marty nodded at them. "We gots some uh tha best doctors ya ever seen round these parts."
Dean nodded. He hoped that was true.
"Sam Cooper."
"That's us. Come on, Sammy."
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Sammy had to be sedated because he was so agitated about the tests. Damn that bitch doctor and her lousy attitude. Once his brother was out they insisted Dean go back to the waiting area, promising to come get him before Sammy woke up.
Dean trudged back out to find Bobby waiting alone, reading the old book. He sat next to his 'uncle.'
"Cute," Bobby grumbled. "Nephews, huh?"
Dean flashed a smile. "Worked, didn't it?"
"Oh yeah. Birdie raked me over the coals for not telling her about my nephews before. I ought to turn you over my knee." Bobby glared at him.
Dean maintained the smile. "I wouldn't recommend it."
Bobby chuckled. "Here. This is what I wanted you to read." He handed over the book.
First Dean saw the newspaper clipping. The article was over a year old judging by how the paper was yellowing, not to mention the date at the top. It told about strange wild animal attacks in a state park. At first, from the description, Dean thought of a Wendingo, but the details did not add up. When the attacks moved from the park to a suburban area, he knew it could not be a Wendingo. They preferred deep forests and woods. Plus this creature continued its attacks for some time. Wendingos only feasted every couple of decades.
He lifted the article to examine the page Bobby wanted him to read. After scanning it, Dean flipped to the front cover. The title of the book was 'Mystical Creatures: Real and Imagined.' He turned back, pouring intently over the page.
"It can't be a werecat, Bobby. The lunar cycle is all wrong," Dean said when he looked up.
"Yes and no," Bobby replied. "You see, there's something strange about those damn cats. The legend in here," he tapped the book, eyes aflame, "says once a human is bitten by either a werecat or an original, you turn into a werecat. What we're talking about, is one of those originals."
Dean raised one eyebrow. "Original what?"
Bobby shrugged. "No idea. But you can kill 'em."
"Okay." Dean shut the book, looking at Bobby. "How?"
"Same way as a werewolf or werecat: silver bullet to the heart." Bobby's voice was soft and deep. Dean tried to throw off how much Bobby reminded him of Dad sometimes, but it was difficult.
"So, how do you know about these original cats? You hunted one before?" He closed the heavy book, setting it on the chair beside him.
"Took out a whole family of them," Bobby replied, adjusting his ballcap. "Didn't think there were any more in the area. But, Dean," Bobby leaned forward and his voice dropped to a whisper, "last time I had plenty of help, and we still had some serious injuries. I don't think we can take this one alone."
Dean scowled at him. "We're not calling anybody, Bobby. If one of these original cats is after Sam, I'll take care of it."
"We'll take care of it, Dean," Bobby glared at him. "But it'll be dangerous. For all of us. It would be better if you'd let me call in a couple of other hunters."
Dean shook his head. "I've been learning how hunters like to talk. Hell, the first time we met that psycho Gordon, he knew all kinds of things about my family. Forget it. The last thing I want is for any hunters to know where we are, much less about Sammy's condition. I doubt Gordon is the only one who wants to come after Sam." Dean glared back. If he could not trust Bobby to keep his mouth shut on this one, then he and Sam would need to hit the road after all. After the test results, of course.
Bobby removed his ballcap, scratched a hand through what hair he did have, then pulled the cap back on roughly. "Never really thought about it that way, Dean. You're right. We'll have to take care of it, assuming that's what it is." He shook his head. "Won't be easy, though."
Dean let out a mirthless chuckle. "Is it ever?"
---------------
"Mister Cooper," Doctor Wayne approached them.
Dean sprang to his feet. "Sammy waking up?"
"Not yet. I expect it will be at least another half hour before the anesthesia wears off. Considering your brother's size and how agitated he is about certain tests, I made sure they really put him under. The test went really well." Doctor Wayne sat opposite Dean, next to Bobby.
"Bobby? Nice to see you." Wayne shook Bobby's hand. Bobby said nothing, just nodded toward Dean.
"Right," Wayne lifted the file he was holding. He checked a page in it before continuing. "Judging from the preliminary results, I would have to say that your brother's mini-strokes are not causing permanent damage, but we do need a more thorough review. Were you aware of the additional fluid build up he has?"
Dean nodded. That Jeffries bitch had mentioned that.
"That is the reason for the strokes."
Dean's jaw clenched. He was going to hunt down and kill that bitch.
"I take it you didn't know that."
He shook his head, unable to trust his voice.
"Can you tell if they seem to be getting better or worse?" Wayne asked, whipping out a pen.
Dean cleared his throat, attempting to reign in and force back those pesky emotions as he considered the question. "Well, the one the other night lasted for a while, maybe a half a minute to a minute, but it seemed like longer. I think he had one this morning and it only lasted about," he looked to Bobby for confirmation, "ten seconds?"
Bobby nodded. "Sounds about right."
Wayne smiled as he wrote it down. "That's good. It may mean nothing, but it may mean that Sam's body is taking care of the excess fluid itself. If that is the case, then we will not need to perform any surgery. However, I would like to keep a close eye on Sam. I understand that keeping him in the hospital is not an option at this point, and I think we know who we all have to thank for that," the doctor scowled as Dean nodded. "But if you and Bobby agreed to monitor him closely, I see no reason for him not to leave with you today. I'm going to give you my cell," he whipped out a couple of business cards to write on the back, "any time you feel Sam may have had one of these strokes, call me. I need to know how long it lasted and how severe it appeared. As long as they continue to improve, we're good. But if just one looks worse, I want to do another scan, check the pressure. I'd like to do that anyway in a few days, Mister Cooper. To monitor him."
"It's Dean," he informed the doctor. "You set it up, and we'll be here. Thanks, Doc." Dean stood, his hand outstretched.
Doctor Wayne stood, taking Dean's hand in a firm handshake. "I'm just relieved that your brother is in such good hands, Dean."
"Me, too," Dean admitted.
Wayne released his hand and shook Bobby's again. He turned back to Dean. "I know it is ridiculous of me to say something like this, but try not to worry too much. The human body is an amazing thing. You would be surprised what it can deal with."
Actually, he would not be all that surprised. Dean looked back, intending to sit, when he felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder. With a hiss, he knocked away the stabbing pressure on his left shoulder. Looking up, Dean saw it Doctor Wayne staring at him, one hand still extended. Bobby had a similar shocked look on his face.
"What?" he demanded.
"Dean, there something wrong with your shoulder?" Bobby asked, his voice suspicious.
"It's nothing," Dean snapped. "How long until I can see my brother?" he demanded of Wayne.
Doctor Wayne's arms crossed over his chest. "Right after you let me take a look at that shoulder." Behind him Bobby grinned, nodding.
Dean's eyes shifted between the two. His shoulder felt fine until Wayne grabbed it. He guessed it was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but right now he felt more like punching the guy's lights out. If he were not Sam's doctor…
"Come on, Dean," Bobby nodded toward the far doors where Sam was, "don't make me redo my priority list." Dean's eyes narrowed.
"The sooner you let me examine it, the sooner you'll get to see your brother," Wayne added.
"Fine. Where?" Dean felt like he was constantly giving in these days, and it was really starting to wear thin. Did all that extra patience he kept telling himself he needed only apply to Sammy? Yes.
Doctor Wayne led him to the same room where they prepped Sammy for the CT scan. Bobby crowded in behind him. Dean felt like his last nerve was being ground into dust.
"This isn't necessary," he protested. "I just dislocated my shoulder a while back. That's all. It doesn't even bother me."
The doctor stared at him a moment. "It doesn't bother you? What, until someone touches you?"
"Usually people know better," Dean snapped.
"Shirt," Wayne motioned to him.
Dean glared at Bobby, hoping that the older man would take the hint and leave. Instead, Bobby took a seat in one of the chairs along the wall, eyeing him suspiciously. Dean knew Bobby could take a hint, so this attitude was confusing. Keeping an eye on Bobby, Dean peeled off both shirts. As he sat on the exam table waiting for Wayne to finish washing his hands, Dean watched Bobby's eyebrows draw together.
He glanced over at his left shoulder. The bruising looked worse than it had this morning, the whole area covered in red and purple.
"When did you dislocate it?" Wayne demanded, lifting Dean's arm and performing several range of motion stretches.
Dean shrugged with his good shoulder. "Before Sammy got hurt."
"Did you strain it recently?" Wayne's voice was becoming more demanding with each question.
Dean cleared his throat, looking at the wall. "Maybe."
"How?" Wayne chose to stare him down.
He did not know why, but the combined stares of Bobby and Wayne made him start to feel guilty. "Kinda got into a fight yesterday." Dean saw Bobby's frown. "Just two guys, no big deal."
"Sam was with you?" Bobby asked. Well, it was more of a statement than a question, but Dean nodded anyway. "Why? What started the fight?"
Dean shrugged his good shoulder again and looked away.
"I'm going to get a sling. That arm needs to be immobilized for at least three weeks. Then I'm making an appointment for you with one of my colleagues, Doctor Schroeder, to check it out again. He'll give you rehab exercises to do at that time." Doctor Wayne scribbled in his folder again. "Got it, Dean? Three weeks." He headed for the door but paused, with his hand on the doorknob.
"Did you say you were in a fight yesterday? With two guys?" Wayne looked back over his shoulder. "In that pool hall on the edge of town?"
"I didn't say it was there," Dean replied, trying to figure out if he could start on that car restoration using just one arm or if he should pitch the sling.
"Two men were treated here yesterday from a fight there. One of the men, who was admitted for a concussion as well as torn shoulder muscles, told me this morning that it started because he didn't like the idea of a grown man carrying a toy around. He also said if he ever saw it again, he'd make damn sure the guy didn't have a brother." Wayne still stared at him.
"Smarter than he looks," Dean heard himself say. Wayne nodded, leaving the room.
When they were alone, Bobby must have felt like they could talk. "Dean. You didn't mention your shoulder."
Dean glared back. "It's nothing."
"I'll call tonight and arrange for the job to start in a month," Bobby said.
"No," Dean snapped, pulling his t-shirt back on. "I'll start Monday. This is for Sammy. We need the money."
"So, is this stubbornness genetic, or did you just learn from the best?" Bobby asked, glaring at him. Dean had no idea why Bobby seemed upset, unless Bobby was afraid he could not do the car job.
From outside the door they heard, "Dean!"