An hour and a half later, I had Jake moved to the couch, picked up as much as I could, checked on the kids - again - and was now sitting in the ER waiting room. I watched as nurses bustled about, vaguely wondering how bad my break was. I looked down at my now swollen and bruised forearm and prodded it gently.
"Ally Mason?" a tall, beautiful, blonde nurse inquired as she walked gracefully toward me.
"Yeah?"
She smiled. "We're ready for you now." She stepped back, opened a thick, white door, and held it for me. "Let's see what we can do to fix you up."
I nodded with a smile that I hoped was at least a little bit convincing and walked through the door. I ended up having to walk all the way down the hall to a room larger than your regular examination office. This room had four hospital beds lining the wall with curtains to separate them and a long counter on the opposite wall with numerous sinks and a variety of doctor tools. I gulped.
I hated hospitals. Like, with a passion. The smell, the feel, the lack of windows, and the knowledge that lots of sick people had died here before. All of it. Oh, and did I mention I was scared of needles? I mean, only shots… I could give blood or take an IV any day, but when the doctor pulls out a syringe, I get the chills and the urge to bolt from the room.
The nurse gestered to the bed in the left corner of the room. "Why don't you go have a seat on that bed for us?"
"Okay," I said quietly. The bed was tough to the point of discomfort, so I just sat on the edge and cradled my arm to my chest.
Blondie pulled a shot needle out of a drawer under the sink closest to me and looked at me apologetically. "We need to get some pain meds in you." She set the shot on a silver tray and gently picked up my swollen arm to examine it. She grimaced. "This isn't a terrible break or anything, but you've got to be in pain."
She had a point, there. Adrenaline doesn't last very long, especially when you've been moving things around your house to make it look normal. My arm was throbbing and stiff with swelling, but it was nothing I couldn't deal with.
The nurse set my arm back down and grabbed my other arm in exchange. She pushed my t-shirt sleeve up and prepped my bicep for the shot with some rubbing alcohol and iodine.
"So," she said shortly, "what happened, may I ask?"
I knew this question was coming. "I was babysitting my younger brother and sister, and when I went back to the kitchen to clean up dinner, I tripped on my sister's jacket that was laying on the stairs and tumbled down." I mentally patted myself on the back. I had to remember that one. I laughed. "Pretty dumb, right?"
She shook her blonde curls. "No, it could have been worse." When she caught my best 'disbelief' face, she continued, "We have some people come in here with a broken foot from stubbing their toe, and we even have some people come in saying they think they will die from a disease when they really just have a cold."
I laughed and caught a glimpse of the needle that she pulled off of the silver tray beside her. "Uhh," I started, "can I have a stress ball, or a hand, or something?"
She kinda just raised an eyebrow at me and smiled slightly. "Sure… Let me go get a doctor for you."
I smiled and she got up, letting my sleeve fall back over my arm. I stared at the sharp needle on the tray in front of me. The clear liquid on the inside was filled half-way and I took a deep, stabling breath.
"Ally, this is Dr. Jones and Dr. Stephens," Blondie said as she walked back in the room flanked by two men. They were cute, to tell you the truth, but it was what they were doing that made me get a weird feeling about them. The man closest to the woman - the shorter one - was staring at her butt and grinning, while the second, taller guy was kind of jittery, eyeing the IV bags hanging off a stand, the doctor utensils on the counter, and my broken arm.
"Hi," I said quietly, watching the two. The taller one met my eyes and gave a grim smile.
"Alrighty," the shorter one slapped his hands together a rubbed. "What do we have here?"
I looked down at my arm and smiled. "Oh, nothing really, just a broken bone or two."
"Doctors," Blondie started, "would you be so kind as to lend Miss Mason a hand? I think needles make her queasy."
I blushed and nodded. They shared a quick look as if to say 'Well, whatever floats her boat' and moved to sit on either side of me, the taller on my right, shorter on my left.
Sam took another peek at the small girl's purpling and slightly disfigured arm and grimaced. Dean met his eyes over Ally's head for a brief second before looking back at the nurse.
"So, tell me, Nurse," Dean said slowly, "what should you do in this situation."
She pulled Ally's sleeve back up and reapplied the alcohol and iodine. "Standard procedure. We disinfect the area, administer pain medication, and bring the patient to get x-rays when the medication takes effect."
"Good, good," Dean said softly.
"Do you mind if we ask her a few questions while the x-ray room is being prepped?" Sam asked.
The girl between them went from slouched and fragile-looking to sitting up straight and rigid. She kept quiet.
"No, not at all!" the nurse smiled. "You wont have much time, as you know that the medication will make her sleepy and a bit loopy, but I don't see a problem with letting her have some company." She finished prepping and grabbed a cotton ball and the syringe.
The girl's good hand flew to grasp Dean's and Sam laid his reassuringly on the small of her back.
It was all over very quickly, but the girl didn't relax, nor did she loosen the death grip on Dean's hand.
The nurse pressed a bandaid over the site and stood. "I'll come to get you in a few minutes, okay, honey?"
Ally kept her head down but nodded.
The nurse walked out and Sam, seeing Dean wasn't getting out of the death grip any time soon, moved to sit on the stool in front of the girl and smiled.
"Hi," he said soothingly, "I'm Dr. Stephens. Can you tell us what happened?"
She looked up then, hazel eyes clashing. "I tripped," she said simply.
Sam reached for her arm. "May I?"
She shivered and nodded, gooseflesh appearing on her arms.
He picked her arm up and squeezed gently, trying to pinpoint the break through the swelling. She didn't say a word through his little 'examination', but somewhere in the thirty seconds Sam was looking at her arm, Dean managed to free his now red hand.
"Ally, we need to know something," he said, shifting to look at her squarely. "Has anything like this happened to you before?" He knew that she had been to the hospital quite a few times before this incident.
She looked at him unsmiling. "I'm clumsy."
"Now, you know-"
"That neither of you are doctors?" she interrupted suddenly. "Yeah, I know. It's kinda obvious."
Sam leaned forward and grinned. "You caught us, but that doesn't mean we cant help you. We need to know what really happened, okay?"
She shivered again, her eyes going a bit glassy. "Tell me who you are first," she said.
"My name is Sam, and this is my brother, Dean. We…" he looked to Dean for support, "…know things."
"Wha' things?"
"Hold on," Dean said, "it's our turn in this game of twenty questions. Have you been having headaches these last few months? Any strange dreams? Seen anything that seems a little unexplainable?"
Her brow furrowed. A good sign. "That's more 'n one question," she slurred. "But, yeah. How'd you know?"
Sam put a finger to his lips as the nurse walked in again. "Lucky guess," he said quietly.
Nurse Tall-And-Blonde rolled up a wheelchair and the three of them got Ally sitting in nice and safely. Before Ally was rolled away, Dean raised his voice a bit. "Just remember," he called, "we're here to help!"
Ally was wheeled out and Dean turned to Sam.
"Since when does the Yellow-Eyed demon abuse his soldiers?" Dean demanded. "That girl has a broken arm!"
"You'd think that he would want his soldiers in top condition or something," Sam mused. "Dean, that girl is carrying something huge on her soldiers. We have to help her."
"Yeah, I know, I know. Always Sammy with the need to save everyone with the lost puppy look."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
