John bolted from his chair, both his warrior and parental instincts instantly evoked. He seized the woman's shoulders to pull her away from his youngest son but he was met with a resistance that confirmed the woman was more than she appeared to be. She didn't move, remaining firmly planted at the side of Sam's bed.
Yet John's assault still managed to produce the desired effect as the woman released her chokehold on Sam. As soon as his airway was freed, Sam inhaled deeply with a raspy gasp that ripped through the silence that had previously encompassed the small room.
The nurse braced herself against the bedrails before she propelled herself around to face John. Her angry, shining eyes cast an eerie glow in the otherwise darkened room and John could barely keep up with the rapidly changing silhouette as the woman's mutation into a supernatural predator progressed. Her physical features quickly lost any resemblance to human characteristics as they transgressed all accepted laws of nature to take on the bestial appearance of the feline enigma that John had come to know so well during the past week and he watched in abject horror as her body augmented in size to morph into the now familiar silhouette of a muscular Aswang.
John knew he had to act before the transformation was complete if he was going to be able to stop the creature from killing either him or his sons. Shoving aside all his ingrained instincts that may have otherwise prevented him from striking a woman, John threw a powerful, well-aimed right hook that caught the unsuspecting nurse squarely in the jaw. Her head snapped backwards and John advanced, hurling another fierce blow into her sinewy torso. As she buckled forward John wrapped his arm tightly around her neck and quickly yanked her into an upright position.
Increasing the pressure on her neck, he pulled her closer to his body, bending her violently backwards. As her air supply diminished, her hands immediately went to her neck and she grabbed John's arms with incredible strength as she strove to regain her footing. Unable to breathe, the nurse frantically dug her fingernails into John's arms and though he was initially oblivious to her assault, John became abruptly mindful of the increased danger she posed as the woman's fingernails transformed into razor-sharp Aswang claws and viciously penetrated his skin.
Grimacing against the pain, John nonetheless upheld the pressure on the nurse's neck. Rendering her unconscious was the only option he had available to him; he couldn't kill her without the proper weaponry. So his only alternative was to effectively immobilize her in order to give him enough time to get his boys safely out of the room.
The woman thrashed violently against her captor as she struggled to catch her breath. But John held firm, even as her body continued to evolve into that of his latest omnipotent foe. But supporting the increasing bulk of the rapidly mutating creature proved to be too much and John lost his balance and stumbled backwards. His fall was halted when he bumped against his eldest son's bed.
Dean was awakened by the combination of the brutal jostling of his bed and the commotion caused by the skirmish. Immediately vigilant, he grabbed his father under his arms to stop him from falling to the floor with the almost completely transformed creature on top of him. John pushed his feet into the floor to regain his balance and, with Dean's help, he was able to stabilize himself. But just as John pushed himself up, the nurse succumbed to the lack of oxygen and her freakish, half-transmuted body fell limp in John's arms. Holding the dead weight of the grotesque creature in his arms John tenuously eased the unconscious creature to the floor. Dean maintained an uneasy hold on his father as he surveyed the surreal scene before him.
"What the fuck…?" Dean began, as he finally got a good look at the half-human/half-Aswang creature that his father had been fighting.
Recovered enough from the brief scuffle John shot his son a stern glare at his choice of language before he stepped over the Aswang's prone body and marched hurriedly over to his youngest son's bed.
Sam had stopped coughing but still lay clutching his throat as he watched the turmoil that had overtaken the room. He was having a much hard time staying awake because, unlike his older brother, he had been given enough drugs to combat the pain of his injuries as well as to help sedate him so he could sleep. Trying desperately to overcome his drowsiness, Sam blinked a couple of times before looking his father.
"Hey Bud," greeted John breathlessly as he gripped the bedrails of his son's bed and swung them downwards as quietly as he could.
"What's goin' on?" asked Sam.
"We're getting' outta here," stated John hastily as he reached across Sam's body and expertly removed the IV line from his son's arm. Applying an even amount of pressure to the small puncture wound that remained, John looked sternly at his youngest son and decreed, "I want you to go with Dean. He's going to take you back to the motel."
"Back to the motel? Why is he taking me back there?" ventured Sam in confusion.
"Because I said he is, that's why."
Recognizing that his father's harsh tone left absolutely no room for argument, Sam fell silent as his father helped maneuver him into a sitting position by placing a hand on his back and hoisting him up. With Sam sitting groggily on the side of the bed, John walked briskly over to the closet and grabbed the bag of clothes containing his youngest son's clothes. Throwing them haphazardly onto the bed beside Sam, John ordered sharply, "Get dressed" before he turned to address Dean who had already managed to slip hastily into his jeans.
"I want you to take Sammy down the stairwell and get out of the building as fast as you can. Don't stop to talk to anyone on your way out. No matter who they are. I'm going to stay behind and make sure no one sees you leaving or follows you." He wandered over to the door and opened it just a crack so he could peer cautiously down the hallway. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, John eased the door closed again and turned back toward his children.
"Uhh…Dad?" questioned Dean hesitantly. "How do you expect me to get Sammy back to the motel? We don't have any wheels here, remember?"
That small - but extremely important - detail had momentarily escaped John's memory and he leaned heavily against the door as he mulled over their latest predicament. It wasn't safe for them to stay in the hospital. He had no idea how long the Aswang would remain unconscious and he didn't have anything with which he could kill it. Besides, if there had been one Aswang masquerading as a nurse, there were probably others. And the more John thought about it, the more he realized that it made perfect sense. Aswangs often held down jobs while they maintained their human forms. And they were innately attracted to blood. So what better place than a hospital was there for them to try to secure a job?
Glancing swiftly back at Dean, John implored, "Didn't I teach you how to hotwire a car?"
"Yes Sir."
"Then find one and do it."
"Here? At the hospital?" queried Dean incredulously. "But aren't there still cops all over the place? Looking into those attacks at the park? Won't that just increase my chances of getting caught?"
"Dean, they're here to check out the victims in the hospital. Not the cars in the parking lot. And the majority of them will probably have gone home by now."
"But there's still a good chance one of them will see me."
"Just do it, Dean."
"But Dad…"
"Dammit, Dean," snapped John, "Stop arguing with me! Just find a car you can hotwire and get your brother back to the motel. We'll worry about the ramifications later."
"That's easy for you to say," quipped Dean apprehensively. "You're not the one they keep trying to throw into jail."
"DEAN!" reiterated John in annoyance, "Will you just do as you're told! It's not safe here. You have to get Sammy back to the motel. And as soon as you get there, I want you to make sure that the room is fully protected. Make sure the lines of salt under each window aren't broken and lay down a new one in front of the door. And then neither of you are to leave the room until I get there. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir," gulped Dean as he resigned himself to the fact that it would be nothing short of a miracle if he actually made it out of this town without being charged with some crime or another.
John reached into his shirt pocket and removed his pocketknife. Tossing it to Dean, he stated, "Here, you might need this."
"Thanks," answered Dean unenthusiastically. Then he stuffed the knife into his jeans pocket.
Listening half-heartedly to his father and brother bickering, Sam did his best to get dressed on his own. He'd managed to slip his shirt on without much of a problem, although his shoulder had ached tremendously as he'd maneuvered his injured arm into the sleeve. But after he'd put on his jeans, he found that it was next to impossible for him to get them done up. He couldn't get his swollen fingers around the zipper nor could he do up the button. It didn't matter which hand he tried to use. He just couldn't get his pants done up. Frustrated by his inability to finish dressing himself, Sam untucked his shirt and let it hang loosely over the waistband of his jeans. Then he slid his bare feet into his shoes without bothering to bend down, simply scrunching the backs of the shoes down with his heels. And he stuffed his socks into the back pocket of his jeans before he headed reluctantly toward the door.
Walking warily past the unconscious being on the floor, Sam couldn't help but stare transfixed at it. The deformed creature was slowly reverting back into its human form and Sam was mesmerized by the aberrant slight of the transformation. His curiosity got the best of him and he paused beside it to watch as it completed the change.
John noticed what his youngest son was doing and he instantly became alarmed; there was no telling when the creature would awaken. And, if Sam was within its reach when it did, the creature could easily grab him before John would be able to stop it.
"Sam! Get away from that thing! Now!" bellowed John as he dashed over to Sam. Placing his hand firmly on Sam's uninjured shoulder, John guided his son toward the door. As soon as they were far enough away for the creature, John lifted his hand from his son's shoulder and scuffed him firmly across the back of his head.
"What the hell were you thinking, standing so close to that thing?" he queried callously. "It's not dead you know."
"Sorry," came the grumpily stated reply.
But Sam sounded more pissed off than sorry. Still John chose to let it go. There were more important matters to attend to at the moment.
Dean had gone over to the door and was opening it slowly. John walked over to him and pushed him lightly out of the way so that he could look down the hallway himself. He opened the door marginally and peaked out; the hall was devoid of all activity so John opened the door wide enough to allow him to exit the room and he motioned for the boys to follow him as he walked cautiously into the hall. As they stepped silently through the doorway he pointed sharply toward the stairwell in the opposite direction of the nurse's station, indicating that he wanted them to head that way and make their exit down that set of stairs.
Trusting their father to watch their backs, the two teenagers raced stealthily to the end of the hall without bothering to check behind them. As they reached the door leading to the stairs, Dean pushed it open, taking extra care to ensure that it didn't make any noise. He stepped into the stairwell and held the door for his brother. Sam followed his brother through the door and immediately headed down the stairs.
Dean eased the door shut before he bounded down the stairs to catch up with Sam, gently nudging his brother to the side so that he could precede him down the stairs. He heard Sam emit an annoyed huff as he walked around him. Dean looked back at Sam and bewilderedly raised his eyebrows.
"I take point and Dad brings up the rear," he stated authoritatively. "You know that. Besides…you're hurt."
"So what?" shot back Sam defensively. He was tired and sore and just wanted to go to bed. And actually get to stay there for a while. "And Dad usually takes point."
"Not this time," replied Dean. "Because this time he put me in charge."
"Only until he gets to the motel. Or until you get arrested. Whichever comes first."
"Yeah? Well, until then I guess you'll just have to do what I tell you to. Got that?"
"And that would be different from any other time he's left us alone, how?" snarked Sam.
Dean looked over his shoulder at his brother and smirked, "It's just the natural order of things Sammy. Better get used to it."
"Somethin' else I don't have a choice in," replied Sam angrily.
Ignoring his brother's grumpy comments, Dean signaled for him to be quiet. They had reached the ground floor and Dean looked through the narrow window in the door to check out the activity on the main floor before he opened the door. Not seeing anything to warrant staying where they were, he guardedly opened the door and peeked down the corridor. Other than the usual hustle and bustle that always seemed to occur near the Emergency Department of a hospital, there was nothing out of the ordinary so Dean stepped into the hall and motioned for Sam to follow him. The two boys headed out the same doors where Dean had made his exit a few short hours ago.
As they wandered cautiously outside and leaned against the wall of the building to stay out of sight while they scanned the area for cops, Dean glanced at his brother and joked, "I'm getting pretty good at this. Sneakin'outta hospitals. Now I'm just gonna have to figure out how to do it at school."
"Won't be much of a problem as long as you're suspended," retorted Sam.
"Bite me."
With no law enforcement officers in sight, Dean moved out of the shadows toward the parking lot, making sure that Sam stayed within arm's reach. They increased their speed as they got closer to the parking lot; there was an ingrained feeling of urgency to get as far away from the building as quickly as possible. When they finally made it to the parking lot, Dean ducked quickly behind a large pick-up truck - one that had the chassis raised to accommodate its oversized wheels. Sam quickly fell in beside his brother.
Dean surveyed the parking lot; there were a lot of newer cars that that didn't lend themselves very well to being hotwired and he ruled all those out as his eyes swept over them. Still, there were a few cars that had promise. He just had to figure out which one would be the best.
Then he found it.
Sitting at the edge of the parking lot.
With only one other vehicle close by.
A nice little sporty car.
A couple of years old.
Should be pretty easy to hotwire.
Yep. It'd do just fine.
Slapping Sam gently on his uninjured arm, Dean announced, "Over here" as he set off toward the vehicle.
As they neared the car, Sam recognized it immediately. "You're not seriously considering stealing Robin's car, are you?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Because it's probably not a really good idea."
"Why not?"
"I dunno" replied Sam in annoyance. "It just doesn't seem like such a good idea."
"Aw, come on, Sam. It's a great idea. I mean, who else deserves it more than Robin?"
"Well...it's just that you were all concerned about getting arrested and stuff when Dad told you he wanted you to hotwire a car...and now, you're gonna steal Robin's car. You don't think maybe that'll just lead to more trouble?"
"Prob'ly. But it'll be so worth it. Just thinkin' about the look on that little prick's face when he comes out and realizes his car has been stolen...Well, that's almost enough to give me an orgasm all on its own."
"Dean, you're disgusting, ya know that?"
"And your point is?"
The two boys walked up to the driver's side of the vehicle and Dean glanced inside.
Perfect.
The car had been left unlocked. Dean grinned to himself. Because that was one of the best things about small-town America. The false sense of security that people had. The belief that they were immune to things. Things like theft and other kinds of crimes. Things that ran rampant in big cities. Things that people in big cities protected themselves against.
Things like having their cars stolen.
Dean stood up and turned toward his brother, motioning for him to follow him to the other side of the car. Dean wrapped his hand in the hospital gown he was once again using as a makeshift shirt before he reached for the handle to open the door.
As he swung the door open and stepped aside for Sam to get in, Dean cautioned, "Be careful you don't touch anything."
"Dean, I still don't think this is such a good idea. Why can't we just find another car."
"Dude, where's your sense of adventure?"
"I think I lost it when I dislocated my shoulder the second time this week," sighed Sam, "If I even had one to begin with."
"Well Sammy, you know what your real problem is? You need to lighten up. Learn how to have a bit of fun. 'Cause otherwise life just ain't worth livin'." stated Dean. "And whether you want to admit it or not - this is fun. Hell, it's almost as much fun as makin' out with a really hot chick." Pleased with himself and his analogy, Dean shut the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side of the car.
Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes he just didn't get his older brother. No matter how hard he tried.
With a final glance around the parking lot, Dean climbed into the driver's side of the car, making sure he didn't touch anything in the car that wasn't absolutely necessary. Reminding Sam to keep a sharp lookout for anyone that looked like they might be headed their way - especially anyone that even remotely resembled the Leaveys - Dean jammed the blade of the pocketknife deeply into ignition column. Then he twisted it as hard as he could until he heard the telltale sound of the steering lock breaking.
Now he just had to get the car started. Dean leaned down to look under the dashboard where he expertly pulled out the ignition wires. Disconnecting them from the ignition column, he touched them together in order to start the car. It had taken him less than two minutes to hotwire the vehicle. As he sat upright in his seat, Dean smiled at his brother before he put the car into drive and drove off toward the motel.
They drove into the motel parking lot and Dean pulled into the spot right in front of the door. Before he put the car in park he looked at Sam and said, "Don't get out. Not until I come around and open the door for you."
"I'm not an invalid you know," huffed Sam. "I can open the door for myself."
"I know that, Dumbass. I just don't want you getting your fingerprints on anything. I don't want anyone to be able to trace this back to you."
"You do realize that I have been in this car before'" mentioned Sam exasperatedly. "My fingerprints are probably all over it already."
"Maybe. But I still don't want you to touch anything. And seeing as I'm the boss, you have to listen to me. And I'm telling you not to touch anything. And to wait for me to open the door."
"You know, you're beginning to sound more and more like Dad every day," complained Sam bitterly.
"Yeah, but I'm so much better lookin' than he is."
"Yeah...And a much bigger asshole too."
"Hey! Better watch your language Baby Bro. Or I'll be forced to wash your mouth out with soap."
"I'd like to see you try."
"Don't think I won't."
"What makes you think you'd win?"
"Oh…I dunno…Maybe the fact that I'm bigger than you?"
"Yeah? Well, you won't be for long."
"Says who?"
"Dad. He says I'm gonna be taller than you."
"Yeah? But what does he know anyway?"
"More than you," quipped Sam.
"Maybe," replied Dean with a shrug as he opened the door. "But that doesn't change the fact that he left me in charge. So I still get to tell you what to do."
"Well, I wish that you'd just drop dead."
"Careful what you wish for, Sammy," replied Dean as he got out, "Because it just might come true."
"Then I wish I had a different brother. Or no brother at all."
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…You don't really mean that," responded Dean with a grin before he shut the door.
Watching his brother walk around the car, Sam muttered quietly to himself, "Jerk." But the truth was, he hadn't meant it. Not really. He'd just wanted to get under Dean's skin. Because he was tired of being treated like a little kid. Tired of being ordered around. Tired of always being told what to do. Or what not to do. Tired of Dean acting like he was one of his parents.
Truth was...he was just tired.
And his brother's little charade of stealing Robin's car bothered him. Because he was just asking for trouble. And he was in enough already. He didn't need to get into any more.
But that was Dean. Always pushing his luck. And always getting into trouble. And not really caring whether he did or not.
Sam was relieved when they finally made it into their motel room. Now he could get into bed. And go to sleep. Maybe he wouldn't wake up until the next day. Maybe he'd sleep right through until Sunday. And that thought made him feel a whole lot better.
Sam sat down on the bed and watched as Dean grabbed the big bag of salt from beside their father's bed. He didn't say anything as Dean redrew the lines of salt around the windows and in front of the door. As Dean put the bag of salt away, Sam lay down, ready to go to sleep. They were safe inside the room now. Nothing could get in. They'd be okay until their father got back.
Just before he drifted to sleep, Sam heard the door open. Hoping it was his father, Sam glanced toward the door. But it wasn't his father; it was Dean and he looked like he was heading outside.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked sleepily.
"I gotta wipe down the prints in Robin's car.And move it away from the motel Can't just leave it outside the room for someone to find it."
"But Dad told us to stay here."
"That was before he knew we were going to hitch a ride in Robin's car" stated Dean nonchalantly. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you even know it. Dad doesn't even have to know I was gone."
"Maybe I'll just tell him."
"Not unless you want me to kick your ass the next time Dad's not looking," replied Dean before he exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
John had shadowed his boys as they made their way to the stairwell. He had followed them down the stairs, staying far enough behind them that he'd be able to intercept anyone that might join them in the stairwell. He had watched them as they made their way out of the building, right up until the time they had run over to the parking lot. Satisfied that they were safely out of the hospital, John had returned unnoticed to the boy's room.
Once he was back in the room, he crept carefully over to the still unconscious Aswang. He knelt down beside it and waited until it began to stir. As soon as it opened its eyes, John punched it in the side of the head with a powerful blow. Confident that it would remain unconscious for at least a little while longer, John lifted it up and placed it on Sam's bed, maneuvering it so that it was lying on its side and facing away from the door.
Grabbing the gown that Sam had left on the bed, John ripped it into strips that he could use to tie down the creature. That would give him a few extra minutes once it woke up. He wasn't sure what would happen once the creature woke up and alerted the remainder of its pack that he and his sons had managed to escape yet again. And he still had to find his own way back to the motel.
With the Aswang securely tied to the bed, John left the room. And because he couldn't think of any reason not to, he decided to take the elevators down to the main floor. He was tired and weary. And he'd been scratched again by an Aswang. Which left him even more tired. And he just wanted to get home to his boys as fast as he could.
So taking the elevator down made sense. And saved time. But when the elevator reached the main floor, the doors opened and John came face to face with Greg Leavey.
Hoping that the deputy-mayor wouldn't recognize him, John attempted to walk around him. But just as he got past him, he heard the man address him.
"Well, if it isn't John Winchester."
Damn. Why were politicians so good with remembering faces? And names.
John turned around to face the man.
"What brings you to our little hospital?" asked the deputy-mayor sarcastically.
John didn't answer.
"Visiting your boys, perhaps?"
Still John refused to answer.
"Maybe I should just check with the Admissions Desk and see if they're here," taunted Mr. Leavey. "See if I should call the sheriff and have them arrested."
And that did it. John hauled off and decked the man. Smacked him right in the face. Hit him so hard that he struck the back of the elevator as he fell.
Staring at the unconscious deputy-mayor, John suddenly had an idea. Placing his foot against the open elevator door to stop it from closing, John reached down and felt for the deputy-mayor's keys. As soon as he found them, John checked for the one he was looking for. Finding it amongst the other keys on the ring, John clutched the key ring tightly. Then he turned around and pushed the button to the fourth floor before he stepped out of the elevator and let the doors swing closed.
Heading toward the exit, John grinned to himself and muttered quietly, "Thanks for the lift."