Waking Up

I dozed fitfully for the next couple of hours as the adrenaline rush wore off. My head rested on the hospital bed next to Sam's large hand but the rest of me was stuffed uncomfortably in an uncomfortable chair. I felt a bit like a yoga master in some pretzel-like pose. Clearly, these chairs were not intended for any long term use.

My stomach growled, a pitiful reminder that I hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was almost six o'clock in the evening. I moved just enough to move my stiff, aching neck and protesting back, hoping it wouldn't disturb the sleeping man. It didn't work.

Sam groaned softly and his wide eyes fluttered open. Up close, they were some swirling color between green and blue, almost aquamarine. Messy brown bangs fell loosely into his eyes, and I brushed them away with shaking fingers. I didn't know why, but I felt like hugging the boy, soothing him back into sleep.

"It's all right, Sam. You're safe," I said softly, free hand reaching for the paging button. "I'm just going to call a nurse for you."

"Thirsty," he whispered back hoarsely.

"Just hang on a few more seconds, all right? Someone is coming to help."

"Where am I?"

"Sisters of Mercy Medical Center, a few miles out of Houston."

The man nodded resolutely, winced, and tried desperately to sit up. For a moment I was frozen in indecision between helping him and asking him to lie back down, but his need to be up won over my worry. I reached over, slipped an arm behind his back and gently steadied him upright. His eyes took in the barren hospital room.

"How're you feeling?" I asked gingerly.

"Dizzy."

"Do you want to lie back down? You might feel better."

Sam shook his head and traced the IV line to the needle in his arm. "Who are you?"

"Name's Joanna. Jo for sure. Dean and I…um, found you in an alley earlier today."

Groggy from all the medications in his system, the omega spoke slowly, slurring his words a little. His eyebrows furrowed in sheer concentration. Speaking was taking a lot of effort and a lot of out of him. He had a soft, almost southern accent that I couldn't place and the gentlest, warmest voice I'd ever heard.

About then, an elderly nurse in green scrubs walked into the room and looked at the two of us entirely disapprovingly. "Lie back down, young one," she commanded. "You ain't ready to be up and about. And you girl, what're thinking, letting him sit up?"

"Sorry, ma'am," we both said pretty much as the same time as Sam gingerly lay back down.

"That's much better now. How're you feeling, my boy?"

"All right. Thirsty."

"Perfectly normal, given the circumstances." The older woman grabbed a water bottle from a cabinet, poured some of the water in a plastic cup, and puttered over to the bed. "Raise your head up just a bit now. Wouldn't want you to choke on this."

Sam took a few shallow sips.

"That's better," the nurse repeated. "Now where's that alpha of yours?" She began writing down the numbers from some of the machines. "He ought to be here, really. Shame on him. It's not like them good old days. Alphas were gentlemen back then." She patted Sam on the shoulder and clucked a few times. "Boys today have no respect. No respect."

"Um," I said softly. "I'll call Dean."

"You'd better, young lady. Would be a shame for the young one to go through all of this by himself. Damn shame."

Sam looked between her and me and then sat up by himself. "I'd like to leave."

"Absolutely not, young man! Lie right on back down. You ain't in any condition to be going nowhere!" The silver-haired nurse shook her head. "Young ones today. Always rushing."

"Please," protested the young man softly.

"No, and no. It's not proper, all of it. Not one bit. Just be still a moment, and I'll give you a bit more morphine. I suspect the pain's starting to really peak."

With one swift gesture, Sam reached down and pulled the IV out of his arm. He winced at the gesture and a bead of blood appeared on his pale skin. The nurse gaped at him for a moment and shook her head.

"You're far too stubborn for your designation, boy. Now, lay back down and behave. No more of this nonsense."

I watched her rummage around in a drawer and pull out a syringe. She stuck the needle into a little tiny bottle of some clear liquid and measured out a few milligrams. Without thinking, I put myself between the nurse and the young man.

"Look, if he doesn't want to, it's OK." I took a deep breath and tried to look imposing, a nearly impossible feat for someone who barely reached five feet.

"Little girl, let's stop playing pretend. Your little friend over there's sick. He needs rest and his alpha, and that's all there is to it. Now, please move so I can do my work, all right?"

"Can we at least wait until Sam's alpha gets here?"

"If you insist, but it's really not good for him. The pain can be quite overwhelming, especially for someone like him. Best he sleeps through it."

Behind me, Sam sighed. "I've been through worse."

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Dean quickly. At his hello, I said, "It's Jo. You may want to come on down to the hospital. Right now. Sam's awake."

"Be right there," my boss said and hung up.

"Would you mind giving me a few minutes with Sam, in private," I said after a moment, hesitantly. "Dean should be here in half an hour, tops."

"Fine," grumbled the nurse and puttered out of the room.

I stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, and then picked my jaw off the floor. "Well that was weird."

"What did she mean, Jo?" Sam asked cautiously, looking down at his hands, "about my alpha?"

There was no good way of telling him the truth, no polite or kind of way of telling someone that a human monster had ruined their lives. I stood there uncertainly, twirling by fingers, not sure how to answer. Finally, I settled for the truth, terrified that I was no good at tiptoeing around people. Client I could handle, friends not so much.

"Do you remember what happened to you before the hospital?" I asked, probing the waters.

"Not much."

"There was a man named Gordon. He might've been chasing you."

At the mention of the hunter, the gentle-eyed man shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. I saw his gaze un-focus, as he was suddenly remembering something horrible. Wincing, I looked down at the off-white linoleum under my feet.

"At the hospital, the doctor who's treating you said that someone – possibly Gordon – hurt you pretty badly." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Whoever it was, they altered your designation using an old, forbidden and highly illegal ritual."

Sam let go of a breath he must have been holding and nodded to himself. "I was wondering why everything felt off."

"Your body is changing," I whispered, sniffling a little. Tears ran down my cheeks, pain unspoken. "What they did to you should've never happened. It's not…fair. It wasn't right and nothing can ever change what he did."

I expected anger on pain, but the young man merely shrugged and took my hand. "Life happens. Not always how we'd like it to. Thank you, for taking care of that nurse."

I smiled wanly at him. "She seemed weirdly old-fashioned. Like she's been around since the dinosaur walked the earth and the modern age just isn't to her liking."

"Listen, can you tell me who Dean is?"

"Oh yeah, yeah. He's my boss and an ex-hunter who used to frequent the Roadhouse. He owns a small garage down by the coast. You might remember him. He said he was on a mission with you and your pa a few years ago."

Brows furrowed, Sam seemed to remember. "Oh yeah. Tall? Buzz cut? Limps when he's worried?"

I chuckled at the description. "Sounds like him, all right. That's the Dean I know and love."

"Is he going to stop me from leaving?"

"I don't think so, Sam. He told me to check you out as soon as you woke up. Obviously that's not going to happen with Miss 'you-don't-know-what-you're-doing' on our backs, but Dean's not Texas-brand crazy."