this is for Mish. Who totally made me feel better without even knowing how shitty my birthday turned out. So...she wanted more this story. And it's really literally the least I can do.

Chapter 12

Dean woke up to find the room pitch black, except for a slight amount of light filtering through the window. Probably from the streetlights outside, rather than moonlight like in some of the motels and cabins they'd stayed in. Especially since the light had that disgusting yellow-orange haze to it. Dean was forcibly reminded of English class, and Prufrock. Not really a good thing, but still. Shifting, he noticed the ice packs were almost warm, and that Jim was not there. Then again, he had a feeling Jim had been forcibly removed from the room. Well, maybe not guards hauling him away, but close enough. Jim might be in the waiting room, maybe. Glancing at the window when a shadow fell across it, it took everything in Dean not to scream. Staring, he was entirely unaware of the monitors starting to freak out, as he could see the smile through the window, waiting, and watching. And Dean knew that it was just a matter of time, and that the next bed he found himself in would be in a morgue, not a hospital. Hospitals would be no good to him after Amos got a-hold of him again.

Juliette came bursting into the room, wondering what on earth was going on with her patient, as she saw him staring at the window, she looked, half wondering if she'd seen someone in it, before going over to him. "Dean, c'mon, hey, look at me!" she snapped her fingers right in his face and he startled badly.

"Need…Need a phone, I need to call my dad," he told her, one hand gripping the front of her scrubs. His eyes were wide with fear, and she was fairly sure that he had tear tracks down his cheeks.

"Okay, you need to calm down first," she told him, gently pulling his hand away, and holding it.

"No! You don't understand!" His voice raised in pitch and urgency. "Where's Pastor Jim?! I need…I need my dad," he insisted. Looking around, he slipped out of the bed, knocking the ice packs to the ground, and pulling the IV free of his arm, ignoring the blood dribbling down his arm as he made a wobbly break for the door. Juliette caught him easily, forcing him back to the bed, stopping the blood flow, and replacing the IV.

"If you don't calm down, I'm going to sedate you," she told him, catching his jaw so that he had to look at her. "If you can calm yourself down, I will get you a phone, do you understand?"

"You don't understand!" His breathing was fast and shallow, his heart still going a million miles a minute. She wondering what on earth had managed to spook him like that. He'd been calmer earlier, maybe hiding his fear, but he'd been in control of it.

Holding onto his hand, she gently smoothed his hair, "Dean, if I don't understand, help me understand, but if you don't calm down, you're going to hurt yourself," she told him calmly, not letting go.

"You can't," he said, trying to pull away from her in an absentminded sort of way, while still staring nervously at the window. "I have to call my dad, you have to let me call my dad."

"I don't have to let you do anything," Juliette said calmly, tempted to administer a mild sedative. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm not going to let you call anyone."

"He's back, okay? He's back and he's going to kill me, so let my call my dad!" he said the last part slow, like she was a little stupid. She pulled the phone free from where it hung on the wall, dialing the number that would allow for an outside extension. Handing the phone to him, he dialed with the hand holding the phone; still holding onto her hand. She gently ran her thumb over his knuckles, rather than risk pressure across the holes.

"Hello?" John asked, and Dean could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Dad?" Dean cringed when his voice cracked, and he could hear his own fear.

"Dean, you okay? What's, where's Jim?"

"I don't, it doesn't…Dad, you…I need you, you have…I don't know what to do, if you could just get here…" Half stifled sobs punctuated his words, and Dean hated himself for the tears crawling down his cheeks. Juliette gently slipped her other arm around his shoulders, offering him what comfort and safety that she could, and he appreciated it. However, she wasn't who he wanted. All the same he leaned into her, trying to hold the sobs in so that he could hear his father over the crappy extension.

"Dean, dude, calm down," John said, his voice hitting that lower timbre, one that always calmed Dean, but at the same time had the slightest hint of stress. "He's gone, okay? I saw the coroner reports, he's just a pile of ashes, okay?"

"No, Dad, you don't, I've seen him twice," Dean insisted, starting to go into hysterics. Not that he could help himself. He was barely aware of Juliette holding him closer, and tucking his head under her chin a little, while still allowing him to talk.

"Where's Jim?"

"I don't know!" Dean insisted, trying to get his father to understand that he needed him, not anyone else.

"Dean, there someone else in that room?"

"Just the nurse," he said impatiently, starting to realize that she was slowly managing to get him closer and closer to her. Most nurses didn't try, didn't care. Then again he wasn't sure if it was against protocol or not, but he appreciated it. Even if he was going to start working himself free again. Soon.

"Dean, I want to talk to her," John said, letting the air slowly out of his lungs, glad that Sam was still sleeping in his room. Glad that Dean hadn't called a few hours later, when they were planning on leaving. Dean looked at the phone, before looking at Juliette, and grudgingly handing it over. Juliette looked at him in vague surprise before taking it. She looked at Dean, before pulling the slightest bit away from him, and he realized that he wished she wouldn't. Begrudging himself that comfort, he pulled away from her the rest of the way, letting her know exactly how he felt about this betrayal.

"Hello, this is Juliette," she answered calmly, looking at Dean in confusion, before lightly gripping his hand that little bit tighter. She was still being gentle with his hand, but all the same she was somewhat amused to know that while he'd pulled away, he hadn't let go. She wouldn't let go, either.

"Is Jim there?"

"We made him go stay out in the waiting room, and told him that he wasn't allowed in the room until later tomorrow, or at least another nurse did, and I think he went home."

"If I give you a number, can you call it, and let Dean stay on the phone with me?"

"Yeah, of course, I've got paper right here," she said, since she carried a pen anyway, and had a little pad of paper generally to doodle on when she was bored working the desk. Holding the phone between shoulder and ear, she made 'mm-hmm' sounds at each time John broke up the numbers. "I don't know if it's a good idea to leave Dean alone right now," she told John clearly, watching the young man staring out the window, she could feel the tremors running through his body.

"He won't be alone," John told her grimly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my son now." He waited until he heard Dean asking Juliette where she was going, and told her not to leave the room. He could hear her calm explanation, telling him that he could either hang up on his dad, or he could wait a few minutes and she'd be right back, but it was his choice, and she couldn't do both. A few seconds later, he heard,

"Hi Dad, she'll be right back," and they both knew that there was a question mark at the end of that sentence.

"Yeah, she will be, okay dude, what're you seeing?"

"It's not a ghost, Dad, I've never lied to you before and I'm not now! You have to believe me!"

"Dude, calm down," John said gently, "Deano, I didn't ask you what it is, or isn't. I told you tell me what you saw."

"Yes sir," Dean breathed, "I…at Jim's, earlier today, I…I thought, I…"

"Not what you thought, what you saw."

"A face, in the window, when I woke up. I saw a face looking at me, and I know…it was Amos'." It wasn't easy to say that, especially not for Dean who didn't want to admit it to himself. "And then I felt sick in the hospital, woke up, and it was dark, and I looked up and there…in the window, he was there again, and when he moved it got a lot brighter in the room from the street lamps."

Dean paused and waited for a while.

"Dad?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah, I'm here, I was just thinking," he told Dean quietly. "Just wanted to make sure Sam was still asleep, and safe." Not that Amos could be in two places at once, but he was going to make damn sure. Because if he was…then it was a whole different kind of hunt. "Dean, listen to me, alright?" he waited, knew Dean had just nodded, and then cringed for having done it, and cut him off before he could say 'yes sir', "Now, when Jim gets there, tell him to get together his hunter friends, have them do a sweep of the grounds, and to lock the church doors at night for a while. Even if it's not his usual policy, Amos'll just kill him instead of giving him a chance to do anything. And then you go out there with Jim, in daylight, and look for footprints outside that window. If he was standing there watching, there'll be some. And on the way out, you still with me dude?" John waited for Dean's soft confirmation, "and on the way out you check for footprints again. You hear me?"

"Yes sir, and if there aren't any?"

"Then don't forget the salt lines. But Dean? You find footprints, you call me. I'll make sure Jim has my new number."

"Aren't you coming here?" Dean asked, hearing his voice crack and being glad his father wasn't there to see the tears welling up.

"Soon as I can, but I can't ask Sam to sit in a car that long, and it's not like I'm going to tell him what's going on. Unless you want me to?"

"No!"

"Well, then I can't let him know in how much of a hurry we're in, since I promised we'd take our time, and we'd talk. Me'n him."

"About what?"

"About all this crap he keeps pulling."

"Oh."

"You gonna be okay dude?"

"I, yeah."

"That nurse back yet?"

"Yeah," Dean said, not having really noticed before that Juliette was back in the room gently holding his hand again.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay," and before he could even say 'goodbye' John had hung up. Dean looked at Juliette. Without really thinking about it, he allowed himself to lean into her. She smiled and settled her arm around his shoulders again, shielding him from the view of the window, even if she had closed it. She'd turned on the dimmest light she could, rather than really wake him up all the way.

"You gonna be sick or you gonna be okay?"

"Why would I be sick?"

"When you're that scared, when aren't you?"

"I'm not scared."

"And I'm not stupid, either, so stop trying to lie to me."

"I'm not scared," he repeated, "Being scared would be easier," especially since he was terrified. But he didn't say that. If she was so smart, then she'd be able to figure it out. She watched him for a while.

"Trashcan's right there, and even if I've been stuck in these stupid scrubs for a double shift, I don't want out of them that badly yet," she told him. He wasn't really young enough for that kind of joking around, and at the same time was too young for it. He was just at that age when nothing anyone did was ever good enough. And at the same time it was all too much. "Pastor Jim's coming," she said with a gentle emphasis on 'pastor' given his reaction the last time she'd just said 'Jim.' She didn't hear a response, and figured that since she was supposed to have gone home hours ago, it didn't matter if she was there for a little longer. Arranging herself more comfortably on the bed, she wrapped both her arms around him, one of his arms ending up crossed lightly since he refused to let go of her hand. At this point she had a feeling he didn't realize he was holding on to her at all. It was fine, if it gave him any form of comfort, it was fine. "You still have my number, right?" she felt him nod against her, "good, because even if you just managed to get hurt and need some medical advice, you call, okay?" she felt him nod again. "I should make you promise me, shouldn't I?" he shook his head to that, and she laughed. What she wanted was to go home to her husband, and her baby girl. Instead, she was here with someone who needed her more. For a long time she hadn't been sure anyone would need her more than her baby. Life had a funny way of playing with people like that.

When Jim walked in he wasn't actually as surprised as anyone else might have been to see Dean comfortably wrapped in Juliette's arms. Dean looked up groggily at him, before smiling a little. It was a lazy smile, and if Jim hadn't known better, he would have betted on Dean being drunk.

"Mild sedative. Just to keep him calm, I asked first," she said to Jim's expression. "Honestly I think the exhaustion's doing more damage than anything." Which was true. If he hadn't been so tired the drugs might just have been enough to keep him sitting down instead of pacing. Mild. She'd promised. "It's not like he can leave right now, anyway," she shrugged. Dean sort of attempted to struggle free to Jim, but Jim shook his head.

"How about you lie down and get some sleep?" Jim suggested. Dean made a bit of a face, clearly too worn down to fight things. He and Juliette managed to get Dean lying down and comfortable. He was glad that he'd missed the panic, but he had a feeling that the worst of it wasn't over yet. Regardless of whether or not Amos was still around, things weren't right with Dean, and he wasn't close to having dealt with anything yet.

"What happened?"

"He woke up and started panicking, the monitors went nuts, he really freaked," she said.

"You been here all day?"

"I was just leaving when he flipped out," she said softly. "Figured I might go home when you came back, since he shouldn't be alone, but…" she gently smoothed her hand over his for the umpteenth time, "now I'm not sure that he'd be okay with just one person."

"He was completely alone when he woke up. When's your shift tomorrow?

Juliette looked at her watch, "About four hours. I might just go sleep in an on-call room or something," she said with a sigh.

"Well…" Jim trailed off, unsure of what to say to that. "I…understand how that works," he said with a laugh. "I end up sleeping a lot at the church," he shrugged, thankful that there was at least a nice place for him to sleep, he had no idea what it was like to sleep in a hospital but he doubted that it would be comfortable. Or personal. His little room was pretty decorated in little cards and knick-knacks and things from over the years.

"I guess you would," she said, smiling before pushing some strawberry blonde hair away from her face. Not saying anything like she wanted to, she lightly patted Dean's shoulder, and left the room.

Jim settled himself into one of the more comfortable looking chairs, given they all looked painful and uncomfortable. Pretty pleased he'd remembered to grab his bag, he worked on some of the paperwork he'd missed. Did the paperwork never end? Between preparing sermons, setting up lessons, and just about everything else on top of managing the money, he felt overwhelmed at times, regardless of an attempt at a personal life. Especially when the Winchesters were involved. Just being around John or his boys was an emotionally draining experience. Then again John managed to drain patience, too. Sighing, he pushed aside his errant bangs, and flipped to the next page. He'd re-opened the window so that he could keep an eye on it, see if anyone showed up. Although he felt after Dean had noticed, if Amos was there, he wasn't stupid enough to be coming back and showing his face. At least in that same spot.

Dean startled him when he pushed himself up, yawning a little. Jim held still, watching Dean as the boy peered blearily around the room, and laid back down. Then seemed to wonder where everyone was, and sat up again, eyes locking on Jim before he settled down and went back to sleep. Jim took a deep breath, and went back to work.

Doctor Brant walked back in by the time Dean was starting to wake up for the day, and started checking him over. "We finally have an open O.R." She looked at Jim, and then at Dean. Dean shrugged, and Jim sighed.

"Let me guess, more paperwork?"

"No, just a signature," she laughed, clearly just starting her shift. And probably thankful that she'd gotten some decent sleep. Jim could tell she was one of the more jaded doctors, and had probably seen more than was healthy for anyone to see. And then he looked at Dean. Easier to see it than live through it. Then again, how jaded were the Winchesters? Even Sam believed in the worst in people, and it took him almost as long as it did Dean to warm up to people. Only Dean never truly warmed up, he just stopped figuring that they were going to go insane and try to kill his family. And now? God only knew how Dean was going to start thinking about people after this.

Hours later, Dean was out cold on the bed, one hand across his stomach, fingers curled lightly in sleep against his side, the other folded up so his lax fingers rested almost on his shoulder. Jim could tell he'd started to shift, and had stopped midway. He looked for Juliette, and didn't see her. "Doctor Brant?"

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Juliette?"

"Oh, she scrubbed in, I told her to get another couple hours sleep, if you don't see her in three, page a nurse," she told Jim, looking Dean over fairly quickly. "He should be out until Juliette's back, so, if he wakes up before that, he should just go back to sleep, if he wakes up after, it means he's probably finally getting some decent rest. I hear he didn't sleep so well?"

"No, not really. Is there some point where if he doesn't wake up that I should worry?"

"Another twelve hours at the most? But the monitors should be reacting and Juliettle'll be here to check on him."

Jim didn't bother to wonder why Juliette was apparently the only nurse looking at Dean, and was allowed to sleep when he wasn't going to need her. She was probably good with the difficult patients, and even if that wasn't how things normally worked, Jim could see Dean had formed an attachment. He barely handled his own family well, and for someone else to have him comfortable enough to allow physical contact… was pretty amazing. Jim just hoped that Juliette would be there when Dean woke up. He had a feeling that it would really add to the trust that Dean was allowing himself to give. Considering he knew Dean just barely trusted him and Bobby. It was bizarre, but it was true. Sometimes Jim felt Dean only trusted him because John did.

Dean stirred once or twice, finally twisting himself so that his hips were perpendicular to the bed, and his shoulders were at a slight angle, the one on the bottom curled some as more weight was on it. That arm was curled so that the back of his hand was tucked under his cheek, the other arm just draped across the bed. He looked relaxed, and Jim hated to admit that even in sleep, Dean never seemed truly at peace. Although the drugs seemed to be helping.

When Juliette walked in a few hours later, Jim looked up at smiled. "When do I get to take him out of here?"

"Actually, they sent me to ask a few questions."

Jim frowned, he could tell Juliette was upset. "Alright, shoot."

"They want to know where his father is. And what happened, and I know that you've been trying to keep it left out, and I don't…with Dean, I see why, but the reaction he had last night, it's raising up some questions."

"First of all, his father works, and second of all I'm his legal guardian when his father's not around. It's there in the paperwork, in the medical records you should have received…"

"Yeah, and his brother?"

"Is with his uncle, on his father's side. Bobby Singer," since Dean's general fake last name was Singer so that there were a lot less questions asked, "Bobby's not real close to any hospitals or anything else, and with Dean like this, sometimes it's better for him to be away from his brother. Surely you know what it's like to have your own personal mini-stalker. Dean wasn't handling it well, and he just needed some peace and quiet. So, I was the best choice to take him, and Bobby took Sam. Dean's father, John, will be bringing Sam in a few days, if you really need to talk to the man, he'll be here." Which was a lie, John was going to drop Sam off, and then leave. But all the same.

"They…the extent of his injuries…"

"I told you, some ex-marine went after John, they'd been enemies in The Core, and he saw Dean and went for him. He was working at Sam's school, and he saw them all together, and went for the oldest. Guessing there was more opportunity, and maybe he just wasn't sick enough to go after a ten year old. I don't know, I don't know much about what happened, it's not like John really talks about his time in the military. Most people don't." Jim wasn't sure he liked this line of questioning, but he'd known it was going to be coming up soon.

Juliette looked uncomfortable.

"What else?" Jim asked softly, glad that Dean was still dozing, or at least doing a good job pretending.

"We talked with the other doctors, getting the records, you know the guy who attacked Dean? His house burned down."

"And the cops?"

"No evidence of foul play," she shrugged.

"So what's the question?"

"If John was a marine, would there be evidence?"

Jim actually felt relieved. "No, John wouldn't do that. He found Dean, sure, John's not stupid. But he wouldn't have ever gone ahead and killed someone. It's not in his nature, military man or no. If the guy burned to death, then it wasn't John's doing." Jim knew he was going to be praying for hours about this. Then Jim frowned. "Was the guy in the house?"

"They never found remains. That's why all these questions came up. Especially with Dean's...with the episode last night," she shrugged. "It's possible…I mean they found some blood, since the basement didn't totally burn, but most of the stuff left was Dean's, not anyone else's."

Jim glanced at Dean, concern painted across his features. "If it's true, and he really did see Dillinger out there, then he's not safe here anymore. I need to get him back to the parish," Jim told her.

"Dean saw him there, too, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but trust me, he's not getting in. We have some guys who stay in the church, homeless guys. And we have some church members, mostly cops and firemen, y'know, who stay with them to keep an eye on 'em. Since it's not exactly a good idea to leave a group of homeless men alone. There's plenty to steal, and even if I'd like to believe in the best in people, I often find myself disappointed," Jim ran a hand over his jaw, rubbing at his temple. "Dean'll be safer there."

"We could post a guard."

"And that will not make him feel better, he's likely to do something stupid if you do that," which was the God's honest truth. Dean did not always do the smartest thing when he felt threatened. Dean woke up, glancing at the window first, then when he saw Jim and Juliette he settled back onto the bed, letting his eyes droop closed. He was clearly tired, surgery or no. Jim wasn't sure what to do. "Let me stay, I can keep an eye on him, alert someone if anyone shows up in the window."

"I…"

"Please."

"If…alright," she said, knowing her career wasn't exactly safe if something went down because she didn't take action.

"Can you stay with him for a few minutes? I need to get some air."

"Of course," she pulled her hair-tie out, and combed her fingers through her hair. Pulling in a huge sigh, she let the air out slowly, calming herself as best she could. Things would be okay. Redoing the ponytail she watched Dean, wondering if he would ever really recover. He had to stay overnight, since he'd torn the stitches so many times, they wanted to make sure he had a day or two to actually recover in a controlled environment. It seemed like a better course of action.

Jim found his way outside Dean's window, ducking low, and saw that there were depressions in the dirt. Vaguely footprint shaped, but he wasn't sure how he felt. Settling his own shoe in the depression, he sighed. Someone had been outside the window, that was for sure. He would call together some hunters he knew, ask them to keep an eye on the church once he got Dean back. He wasn't sure if he could get Dean to his house without whoever was following them catching on. Assuming it was Amos, it wouldn't be hard to track down where a preacher lived. Some people wanted to meet at his home, while some preferred house calls, and other preferred to meet in the sanctity of the church itself. And if Dillinger had followed them this far, there was no guarantee that he couldn't go that little bit further. Standing back up, he walked back to the front of the building and sat down. He had no idea what Dillinger looked like to even look out for him. Pulling at his hair the slightest bit, he realized he hadn't shaved in a while when he dragged his hand down from his hair to his chin. He must look horrible.

He wondered where John was, he needed to call. But it wasn't like John didn't know Dean was in the hospital. Since half the point of sending Dean to him in the first place was to make sure he got medical care, and that he could stay there as long as needed. One more night. Dean wasn't going to like that, but there wasn't anything Jim could do about that. Not really. And it was a good thing, all things considered, he needed the time to heal, and the supervision, to make sure that he didn't overexert himself.

When Dean finally started to wake up, he noticed Juliette still sitting there, reading a book. He was a little confused as to where Jim was, but he wasn't too concerned. It wasn't like Jim was going to ditch him, but he didn't expect the pastor to stay there all day anyway. That was pretty ridiculous. People needed to shower, and eat, and all sorts of other things. Like go to work, do their jobs, Dean understood that. Probably better than anyone, given that John was never around because of how often he was working. Whether it was some hunt, or an actual day job that brought in some money. Dean preferred the jobs that had cash attached to them, it meant more food, and sometimes treats.

"Hey," Juliette smiled. "Finally up?"

Dean mumbled, but his throat was too dry to really say anything. Looking around, there was a glass of water at his bedside. He picked it up a little shakily and drained the glass, careful to go slow enough that she could warn him off if it was going to hurt him or something stupid. That and he found that every time he tried to chug water, someone got mad at him. No good reason why, but he'd learned. Sam left him alone, though. Thankfully. Bobby usually just stared at him, and then shook his head wondering why on earth it was necessary. And something about Jim always had Dean on his best table manners. Probably the black suit and white collar. "Yeah, I'm up," he said, surprised at how scratchy his voice was. "How long?" he croaked.

"You woke up a few times, but probably a good six hours or so," she said, glancing at her watch, then her eyebrows raised in surprised. "Okay, so more like ten. You look better."

"Feel better," he searched around the room, wondering if there was more water somewhere. She correctly interpreted his expression, and took the cup away.

"I'll get you some more water, you gonna be okay? Hungry?"

"Not for the craptastic food you guys have here," he told her, grinning a little. It wasn't like he could help himself, that stuff was horrible. He didn't like jell-o, it was weird, and it wasn't like the actual food was any better. He sort of picked at the fruit because at least he knew what it was, and then if there was pudding, he was all over it. For all he hadn't really been there long enough to have more than a couple meals. They usually don't serve food before a surgery anyway. Thank god.

"You're losing weight."

His only response was to roll his eyes. There was no way anyone could tell in two days. But she was right, he had lost weight. Mainly because he hadn't been eating because it hurt, and he didn't keep it down if he ate more than a certain amount. He'd managed to keep most of it hidden for a while, up until he'd fallen running. Then he hadn't been able to hide it anymore. Especially not with Sam getting their father. It was something Dean could easily forgive him for because then he actually got real food, and the pain was gone. He was especially fond of the morphine drip that was keeping him comfortable. Given how much pain he had been without it before. The worst part of leaving the hospital was probably going to be the fact he had to take actual pills to stave off the pain. He hated taking pills. Making a slight face at the thought, he flopped back down on the bed, tugging up his shirt to look at the stitches, and was so relieved to see that there was no swelling. No angry redness, which meant no infection. Maybe this time he'd have a chance of healing all the way. Especially with no one to kick the crap out of him. And no scared dad to push him too far and make things worse.

Juliette brought him more water, and he felt she should have brought an entire cooler when he took another sip. He was so thirsty. "Thanks," he told her in relief, taking another long drink. Settling himself more comfortably, "When do I get to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

He choked on the water, green eyes widening in annoyance. "That's not funny."

"And I wasn't kidding," she told him. "Given how many times you've torn those stitches, and the raging infection in half those cuts, we want to keep an eye on you, and make sure that you actually heal. Don't really think you can blame Doctor Brant."

"Yeah, I can," he told her, "I want to leave, and if that's the person stopping me? Pretty easy to blame them."

"Why'd you want to get out of here so much?"

"You're joking," he told her, lips pursing as they went flat against his teeth revealing dimples in the curve of his cheek closer to his nose. His eyebrows puckered slightly, the shape above his left eyebrow reminiscent of the Nike symbol. "For one, I want to take a shower, two? I want real food. Three? I want accessible water." Four? He wanted his father. Five? He wanted his brother. Six? If Amos knew where he was, he was safer in the parish than he was in a hospital. Amos could claim to be a visitor and come in and kill him. Or worse. John was wrong, death would have been a blessing.

"I was seeing it from a medical standpoint," she laughed. He stuck his tongue out, then blushed. That was something he hadn't done in years, not since Sam had been little enough it caused him to laugh hysterically. "Think about it, painkillers, the ability to make sure you actually heal… and I can fix the whole showering thing. If you want."

He considered it for several minutes. "Sounds good to me. Unhook me from this thing."

"If you try to escape, I will personally make sure you're sedated for the rest of you time here. Understand me?"

"Yes ma'am." Catch me if you can.

"I can see that look. I will stand outside that room." She carefully unhooked the monitors and made sure he wasn't bleeding, holding onto the crook of his elbow and making him hold it above his heart. They couldn't put it in the back of his hand, not with the damage done, or the bandaging. "And we're going to have to re-do all the gauze. It'll give me a chance to check on how well you're healing anyway." She noted the face he made about that idea, and knew it was just because he didn't like it when they messed with his legs.

Grateful for the shower, Dean dragged it out as long as he could, but when the pain started to be too much for him, he turned the water off, and dried himself off. She was going to be able to tell that he'd overexerted himself. Not even close to pleased, he wondered how well he could fake it. Either way he was glad to see actual pants and a proper t-shirt instead of that thrice-damned hospital gown. Dragging clothes on, he wasn't exactly thrilled about having to take them back off so that this half-stranger could poke and prod at him. Even if he was starting to trust her. Even like her a little. Her number was tucked into the pocket of his jeans, where it'd be safe when he could finally leave. He knew he'd never call it, not ever, but it didn't mean he was going to ever lose it. Ten, twenty years later, he knew he'd still have it. In his wallet, in his duffel, a pocket, he'd always have it.

Letting her wrap an arm around him, since he was shaky and he knew it, he reluctantly went back to the room. Helping her get the gauze off his hands, and everywhere else he could reach, since his back wasn't really an option, and he barely tolerated her checking him over. It wasn't fun, but he had to admit he was thankful for the wrapping over his hands. Especially with the gauze pad over the wounds, so that when he touched stuff he didn't hurt himself. He was also thrilled to see that nothing was infected. The moment she was done, he was asleep, not that he'd meant to. But he'd worn himself out pretty good.