People Are Strange
Chapter Four
After John's little out-burst in the hallway - and with the belief that a much bigger blow-up was soon to follow if he didn't do something fast - Dr. Hogan wasted no time in finding out what was going on with Sam Winchester.
"I've only been here a few minutes," he explained, calling various numbers from the reception desk phone, trying to placate John and cover his own ass simultaneously. "Dean was my first patient. Someone is bound to know what's going on. We don't lose children in this hospital, I assure you."
Twenty minutes later, standing outside Dean's room with Dr. Dave Harold, John wasn't so convinced of that.
"You lost my son." He stated, after being briefed on what had happened after Sam had arrived there earlier that evening.
"He ran away when I tried to give him a shot," the doctor said, altering the image of the events slightly, to cast him in a more favorable light. "He bit me so bad I needed ten stitches," he held up his bandaged hand like John hadn't already noticed it.
"You lost my son," he repeated slowly, as if still waiting for that knowledge to sink in.
"We've notified hospital security and the local police department - they've sectioned off the entire block. No one leaves - no cars, buses - until they get searched. If we don't find him within the hour, they start doing door to door."
John stared.
"The hospital security is searching the whole building discreetly," he went on, speaking fast, "So as not to cause panic. You'll need to talk to an officer as well."
For long moments John just continued staring at this doctor. This guy looked like he belonged in California, tethered to a surf board, getting high every night around a bonfire- not treating illnesses. Losing kids.
"You lost my son." It seemed to be the only thing he was able to say, like his brain had been short-circuited by the sheer enormity of what had happened so far that night.
Every time he said it though, he portrayed a different emotion; he'd gone from shock, to disbelief, and now he'd progressed to eerily calm. His tone was so loaded, that what the young doctor really heard was, 'I'm five seconds away from taking out a gun and shooting you.'
Lucky for all, that doctor would never know how capable John Winchester was of doing just that.
Also lucky, and well-timed, at that moment, was Dr. Hogan, exiting Dean's room and saying, as optimistically as was possible, given the circumstances, "Dean's awake."
The ex-Marine seemed to weight his options, and both of the doctors saw that there was a very real possibility that a couple stitches might not be Dave's only injury that night.
Everyone held their breath, but then John seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagged and he turned, nodding at the older - in his opinion, more competent, doctor -and waited for him to leave again before turning back to Dr. Harold.
He stepped into the man's personal space and narrowed his eyes, speaking dangerously, "Find Sam," he was gritting the words through clenched teeth, "Or so help me God, I will hurt you."
"Hey, kiddo," John entered Dean's room and smiled sadly, wearing an entire different face than he had out in the hallway with the doctors. His eldest son needed him right now, and that's all that mattered.
He cringed inwardly at how small his boy looked in that hospital bed, how pale and withdrawn - fragile - he seemed to be. Of course, that description didn't reach his eyes, which were alive and dancing with unhidden emotion.
"Dad," Dean rasped as soon as he entered the room, voice scratchy; he cleared his throat. "What happened?"
"You got hurt, sport," he admitted, and knew he'd have to admit a lot more. Suddenly he regretted his decision to always be forthright with his boys, wished he could just lie and say everything was fine, that there was nothing for him to worry about.
"I remember that," Dean was snapping impatiently, "I meant, what happened to Sammy? That doctor wouldn't tell me."
And John should have known; because he could barely recall a moment since Sam was born that his sons hadn't been together.
From long days spent together with Mary before that fateful night; to the long, long hours Dean had spent curled up in Sammy's crib after their mother had been killed - when the presence of his big brother seemed to be the only thing that would quell the infant's mighty screams. To beds shared at crappy motels and friend's houses - a slightly grown up version of that familiar comfort.
Sam would listen to Dean - not that he wouldn't listen to John - but his eldest had way of talking to the boy that their father couldn't begin to comprehend.
Even when they were at school, they were never far from each other - and they never seemed to tire of it.
Dean and Sam had created their own world, their own set of rules and forms of communication - and sometimes John felt so left out of that, that it physically hurt him. At the same time though, he had to be glad for it, because it was that bond that would save their lives in years to come.
So he should have known that Dean's first concern was - and always would be - his little brother. As it was, the boy was still looking up at him pleadingly, expression getting more and more panicked as the seconds ticked by.
"Dean-O," John sighed, "Ah…"
"Dad?" The eleven-year-old croaked, frightened, "Is Sammy okay?"
John took a deep breath. "I don't know."
"You don't…"
"After…" he glanced around them out of habit and lowered his voice a smidgen, "After the spirit attacked you," he explained, "You stopped breathing. But you're fine now."
"And Sam?" Dean was so unconcerned with himself that John briefly wondered if he'd done something wrong there.
"I sent Sammy here to get help after we got back to the motel."
"By himself?" Dean asked ludicrously.
John cringed, "Yeah, I know, it was a bad call."
Dean didn't use his father's rare admittance of fault against him, didn't seem to be able to think at all beyond, "Where's Sammy?"
"That's the thing, son," John sighed heavily, he took a seat in the chair next to Dean's bed and placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "No one knows."
Cal, Dee-Dee and Annie all stared at Sam with identical expressions of disbelief when he returned with the little white, driver's license type card not long after they'd sent him to get it.
Kenny, however, was just smirking knowingly. "Told ya the kid was good." He sounded triumphant. "Just like my kid when he was that age. You'll go off to college, man. Just like he did."
Sam shrugged and handed over the plastic square.
Cal studied the card a lot, looking it over, front and back, running long fingers over it - then passed it on to the girls so they could do the same.
The seven-year-old grew impatient quickly. "Can you find Dean now?" He demanded.
"Yeah, sure," Cal said distractedly, and Sam's face lit up. Then quickly fell when he amended, "You'll have to come upstairs with us first, though."
"But I want Dean back now," he whined. He was using the kind of voice that usually got him in trouble with dad, and made his brother fix him with a hard, annoyed glare; but he couldn't help it.
He was tired, he missed his brother, his side hurt where the doctor said his ribs were broken or cracked, or whatever he'd said, and he just wanted to go back to the motel, or the Impala, or whatever they were calling home today.
Really, he just wanted his family.
"I know," Cal paid him more attention at the whine, and assured, "It won't be too much longer. We actually thought this part would be the hardest to pull off."
Sam shrugged again, tiredly. "It was easy."
"And no one saw you?" Annie grilled. "You didn't tell anyone what you were doing?"
Dee-Dee smacked her shoulder, "Of course he didn't."
Annie just looked at him.
"I didn't." Sam confirmed.
"Good," she smiled, Sam realized it was the first time he'd seem her do so. "Okay, so," she turned to the rest of the group. "Me and Kenny are gonna go pick up the van-"
"Hey," the older man protested at once, "Why do I have to go get the stinkin' van? I wanna go with Cal and Dee-Dee."
"You're the most recognizable," Annie told him, and Sam smiled when he pouted. He'd never seen a grown-up pout before. Of course, he'd never seen anybody quite like this group of strangers ever before.
"True," Cal and Dee-Dee were nodding and Kenny continued to sulk as Annie kept giving orders.
"We'll park right outside the North-East entrance, so all you'll have to do is take the elevator straight down from the lab and go out the door. Wear lab coats, if you can,"
"Well, no duh," Dee-Dee snapped. "Hey, why don't you take Sam? It might make it easier for us-"
"No way," Sam spoke up at once. "I'm staying here."
Because he trusted Cal and Kenny - the girls too, he supposed - but there was no way he was getting into a car with any of them, just…no.
"He'll be fine," Cal shrugged off Dee-Dee's concerns, "He'll probably get a kick out of it."
"Fine," Dee-Dee gave in. "Look, we don't have much time. It should take about , what? Six, seven trips to get them all down? If Annie helps?"
"Sounds about right," Cal nodded, and gestured towards the back entrance of the Parking Garage. "Go."
And just like that, Annie and Kenny were gone.
"Cal?" Sam finally had the opportunity to ask the question that'd formed quite a while ago.
"Huh?" The tall man was studying his watch, seemingly waiting for something. Dee-Dee kept looking back and forth between the exit Kenny and Annie had just left out of, and the entrance to the hospital.
"What are you guys doing?"
"We're giving Annie and Kenny a five minute head start," he answered. "We timed this all out weeks ago."
"No," Sam shook his head. "What are you doing? Why do you need a van? Why'd you want me to get that…card thing? Are you stealing something?"
Sam knew that sometimes his own family had to steal certain things in order to get by - as hunting ghosts didn't exactly bring in the big bucks - well, that's what Dean said, anyway. And he was okay with that, mostly because he never really thought about it.
In this situation though, with four strangers and a van, he was curious.
"What we're doing, Sam," Cal spoke deeply, like he was talking to someone else - not a kid, "Is taking back what this hospital stole."
"The hospital stole something from you?" Sam asked in amazement. He didn't think hospitals did things like that.
"Not from us," Cal explained. "From society."
Sam was going to ask him what he meant by that, but Dee-Dee cut in. "It's happy hour. Let's go."
Cal nodded and stood straight, as he always bent to Sam's level when he was really talking to him. "You'll see when we get up there, okay?"
And again, Sam just nodded and followed them back through the Parking Garage.
TBC…
A/N: Any guesses as to what it is they're up to?