Three times during the night Ellen comes in and gently shakes Dean, running through the questions to test that his concussion is not worsening into additional brain trauma. The second time, he shamefacedly asks to be taken into the restroom – his face betraying his painful indignation when she suggests he use the bucket in the enclosure. "I'm not an animal."
Ellen melts at his woebegone face, and she can't help but remember him the first time she saw him – an eight-year-old with freckles and a shy grin, firmly holding his little brother's hand. Damn John Winchester for turning that sweet little boy into this insecure mess with the brittle macho mask.
"Has my dad called?" Dean asks after the third time he's awakened, and he betrays his anxiety by catching the leather thong that holds some kind of charm between his teeth, not quite chewing on it.
Ellen shakes her head. "Not that I know of sweetie. I'll check with Bobby in the morning and let you know, but right now – bar's finally closed and I'm off to bed. Do you need anything? Food? Water?"
"Ah, no, thanks. I'm good. Umm. Really. Thank you." It's both one of the most awkward and most sincere thank yous that Ellen has ever received from a hunter.
Once Ellen has gone to bed, Dean finds he can't get back to sleep. He's worried about Dad, and Sam, and Dad and Sam together, and about himself being useless to them, and not being there to look after them. And, truthfully, he's worried Dad won't come back to get him because he's nothing but a liability now. They've never been allowed to have pets. Being in a cage reinforces the idea that that's all he'd be.
Dean tries to shut all the doubts and worries down, but it's not like he has anything else to do to occupy his mind. Besides it's pretty dark in the room now. He'd exercise just to wear his body out, but even he knows that'd be dumb with a concussion. He gets dressed in as much of his own clothes as he can, weapons and all, and then sits with his knees drawn up chewing on his thumb nail.
The night passes slowly.
Jo comes into the room in the morning, tiptoeing and expecting to find Dean sleeping. She bends to peer into the enclosure to meet his eyes, green and haunted. "Hey, how're you doing?" Jo whispers, and then watches as Dean hides behind his mask.
"I'm fine." Dean's response is completely unbelievable, but Jo – with the sensitivity of a teenager who has her own demons – just nods. Trying to force people to talk never works in her short experience. She nods like she believes this tiny man is "fine."
"Want out of there? I could take you into the kitchen with me? We can get some coffee and something to eat while mom sleeps. I'll lock the cat out." Jo is coaxing Dean into saying yes, and he does. Being confined to the cage is making him feel claustrophobic.
Dean straightens up and waits for her to lower her hand. "Could you take me to see Bobby first?" He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as he gets the flying sensation when she lifts him.
Bobby is awake and making coffee when they find him. "Well, you look better than you did, Boy." He greets the younger hunter as he looks him over. "You look tired though."
Dean stands on the counter and checks the older hunter over too. "Well, I've seen you look better too, Old Man." He forces a grin to take the sting out. "Bobby? Have you heard from my dad?"
"Nothing yet, Dean. But it's early. No telling if they even got past research yesterday." Bobby's matter-of-fact statement helps calm Dean, and it shows. His posture gets less stiff.
"I guess you're right. Just, you know, it's hard when I'm the one shrunk down and stuck somewhere to be kept safe. I – umm – I'm more used to doing the taking care of than being taken care of. And, no offense Jo, but the bright pink furniture? Not my usual style." Dean wanders over to Bobby's toast and breaks off a tiny piece to nibble on. Bobby grunts in amusement.
"Hey, Bobby?" He stops to try again without the quaver in his voice. "I need something to do, man, or I may go a little nuts."
Bobby breaks off a piece of toast and starts chewing, giving himself time to think before he has to answer. He pours himself a cup of coffee, and finds the bottle top they are using for Dean to give him some too. Jo waves off the offer and fixes herself a bowl of cheerios, handing one to Dean without asking.
"Let me think on it, Dean. I think you could use another day of recovery with your concussion and I'm not up to par yet myself. Besides you're kinda small to be hefting around books or answering phones. I'll let you know." Bobby settles down to drink his coffee, trying to ignore how crest fallen Dean looks. Damn, John Winchester anyway. He'd better call soon.
But he doesn't and Bobby watches as Dean grows depressed, and the older hunter wonders if he better that the pistol away from him.
. . . . . . .
Sam has been trying to get his dad to go to Nebraska for two days. The first evening after Dad's encounter with the witch John spent drinking, going through the research, and using the rest room a lot. The next morning, Dad told Sam to stay in the cabin while Dad went to a free clinic four hours away. By the time he got home, he started drinking again and muttering about how much he hated witches. He blew off Sam's concern about the witch completely, and Sam backed down.
Sam checked through Dad's pockets looking for money so he could buy something to eat after John passed out, and he found a pill bottle of doxycycline, too. When he went out, Sam also figured out why Dad told him to stay in.
When Sam went to the Grub Stop diner that Dean had been working in, Dean's friends had come over to ask about his brother, and Sam had told them a family emergency took him away. One of the waitresses, April, lightly touched Sam's bruised cheek. "Not something like this, I hope. I mean, I bet your brother can hold his own, but him not showing up, you bruised?"
The younger Winchester brother flushes and stammers. "My brother didn't hit me."
"I didn't think he did, kid. I've heard your brother talk about you. Just we kind of noticed your father's back, and we didn't figure Dean would just ley you get smacked around." April trails off, a worried look in her eye. "Well, we're worried he's too bad off to come in."
"I tripped and fell." Sam says firmly. The Winchester boys both know to never say anything that might get child protective services involved. "And Dean is in Nebraska right now with my Uncle Bobby."
John gets them both up early the next morning and tells Sam to make sure to pack all his stuff. "It's check out day," John growls the explanation. "And you and I need to get over to where I left my truck. I can't just leave it sitting there. We'll shuttle them over to Nebraska, and then we'll figure out what we're doing from there."
"But, Dad? What about the witch? Shouldn't we stay and hunt her?" Sam wishes he couldn't hear the whine in his own voice.
"She said it's temporary, Sam. So we'll get to the Roadhouse and check on your brother. Hell, he could be cured by now." John sees the stubborn look come on in his son's eyes. "I don't want you with me when I confront her, Sam. Plus, don't you think it's time we checked on Dean?"
The problem starts after John drives them the four hours in the opposite direction of the Roadhouse to the Hunters camp, and he starts drinking and talking to the other guys. Sam's sitting cross-legged on the tail gate of his father's truck, but he's afraid to do anything except give his Dad stink-eyed looks. This will be the third night Dean has been left to cope with the witch's spell around strangers…well, except Bobby. But without his family.
Sam knows his brother well enough to know Dean will think he's been abandoned.
