An Old Haunt for a New Hunt
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Thank you to Jubilea for being a wonderful beta.
"Few things can help an individual more than to place responsibility on him, and to let him know that you trust him." Booker T. Washington
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Sam spun around, grabbed Dean's arm, and drew back his fist before his brain caught up with his reflexes, and he recognized his would-be attacker was his brother. "Dean," Sam said with a sigh of relief.
Emotions flitted across Sam's face. Concern, relief, and frustration all made appearances before Sam's eyes and face registered his strongest feeling. Dean did not need any special, psychic abilities to read his brother's mind. Sam was pissed.
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Sam held tight to his brother's arm, and glared at Dean. Heat radiated from his body, as the intensity of his anger grew. He pushed Dean's arm away from him, and walked to the open door. The Impala was parked haphazardly way too close the motel. Dean had obviously been in a hurry.
Dean watched Sam as he built up a head of steam that would culminate with an explosion of epic proportions. Over to the door, thumb tapping on the frame, back to the table, can of air freshener slammed down so hard the table wobbled, over to the bed, where Sam bent over to pick up his duffel bag. Dean once again, easily beat Sam's slow stoop to pick up the bag, and swung it onto the bed.
Sam turned around to face his brother, and very slowly and calmly said, "Dean, knock it off."
"Sam, I get that you're pissed," Dean began, his eyes registering his concern.
"Do you?" Sam asked the volume in his voice climbing. He pushed past Dean, and walked back to the table. He pulled a wad of crumpled papers out of his pocket, and flung them on the table. His fingers snagged the string of Dean's charm necklace. Sam pulled it out of his pocket, and examined it carefully for several moments before clenching it tightly in his fist. "Were you at the lake, Dean?!" he shouted, his hoarse voice cracking. He spread his arms out wide. "Is that where you were?!"
"Yeah," Dean replied unrepentant. "You know that's where I was. I went to pick up the car, Sam."
"You were gone for hours, Dean! You obviously did more than just pick up the car, or are you trying to say it really took you that long? Even if you had to push it back, you would have been here sooner," Sam retorted hotly.
"I fell asleep in the car," Dean admitted sheepishly. "When I woke up, I decided to poke around a little bit and not waste the trip."
"And how exactly was I supposed to watch your back, man?" Sam demanded his hazel eyes flashing, his posture stiff. "We don't hunt alone."
"Actually, we do - repeatedly," Dean countered. "You have to trust me here a little. I didn't even get close to the water."
Sam's face softened a little, "I do trust you, Dean. I trust you to watch out for me, to save others," Sam admitted, and his voice dropped as he added quietly, "To save me, but, you're reckless with your own safety."
"Maybe, but I'm not stupid, Sam," Dean replied. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I wouldn't fall for her trick twice."
"I know," Sam replied, his anger dissipating, and with it, his sudden burst of kinetic energy. Sam slumped down onto his bed. "Did you find out anything?"
Dan sat down on his bed facing Sam. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs, arms stretched towards Sam. "There's a crazy lady who lives on a cabin near the lake. She hears loons."
"Loons?" Sam asked tilting his head, and smirking, "As in the state bird?"
"Huh, I always thought it was the mosquito," Dean quipped lightly. "Yeah, she hears loons. More interestingly, I think another hunter might have been here last year."
"Who?" Sam asked.
"Could have been anyone, but she described him with brown hair, a beard, and dangerous-looking," Dean replied with a small puff of laughter. "Hell, it could have been Bobby for all we know."
"Or Dad," Sam supplied with a thoughtful look.
"No way," Dean disagreed. "Dad would not have left without finishing the job."
Sam ran his fore-finger several times back and forth above his eyebrow and said, "He would have, if he was meeting up with us in Chicago."
"Meg and the shadow demons," Dean replied, remembering. "That would have been about a year ago." As soon as he said the words, Dean regretted it. One look at his brother told him Sam was remembering, thinking about his week of possession, of things he had no control over, of things that were not his fault. "Hey, hey, hey, Sam," Dean said, bumping Sam's knees with his knuckles. "Whatever Meg did was not your fault."
"Yeah, I know," Sam replied his gaze turned inward. "Accepting responsibility for events I have no control over must be an inherited trait." He looked up at Dean, and gave him a small, half-grin. "It runs in our family."
"Ah, the force is strong in this one," Dean intoned. He stood abruptly, and walked away from Sam towards the table. He turned his head slightly to the side, and asked, "You hungry?"
"Not really," Sam replied. The thought of food made Sam slightly nauseas. They had only given him clear liquids this morning at the hospital. The chicken soup from two days ago was the last solid food he had eaten. The smell of the old soup still lingered in the air mingled with bleach and lavender.
Dean surreptitiously picked up the crumpled papers off the table, and quickly scanned them. "Why don't we head down to the Home20 for a quick bite, and get to bed early? We can pick it up first thing in the morning." Dean suggested.
Sam shook his head, and stood up slowly. "Why do you even bother asking me, if you are just going to ignore me anyway?" he asked.
"I like to let you think you have some say in the matter," Dean replied. He quietly folded the papers, and shoved them in his coat pocket.
He jumped guiltily when Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean turned around to face Sam with a questioning look. Sam held out his fist, in a silent request for Dean to hold out his hand. Dean obliged, and Sam dropped his necklace into his hand. "Thanks," Dean replied slipping the necklace over his head.
Dean took a close look at Sam. He was swaying slightly; his face was pale, his eyes wide, but his pupils were constricted even in the dim light of the motel room. "Change of plans, Sam. Why don't you lie down and sleep, and I'll pick up dinner?" Dean suggested attempting to gently steer his little brother towards his bed.
"No," Sam replied. He clutched the sleeve on Dean's jacket lightly. He opened and closed his fist spasmodically several times, pulling on Dean's jacket. "I'll go with you."
"Sam, what's wrong with you?" Dean asked his green eyes filled with concern. He grabbed Sam by the arms and steadied him.
Sam's eyes filled with emotion, "Nothing is wrong with me. I just don't want you traipsing off without me again."
"No, I mean what did they give you before you left the hospital?" Dean asked. He managed to clumsily maneuver his staggering brother to the bed. "You're emotions are all over the grid, Sam. Even you're not that much of a girl," Dean said jokingly. He sat down on his bed again to face Sam.
"I'm allowed to be concerned, Dean," Sam snapped, his mood slamming back to anger. "Last time we ran into that spirit she pulled you into the lake, you could have died, and you went there by yourself today."
Dean averted his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the truth. When he flicked his eyes back to Sam, he said, "I stayed away from the water, Sam. I'm fine, but I think you're having a reaction to whatever medication they gave you."
Sam narrowed his eyes, "You saw her again, didn't you?" he asked sharply, correctly guessing the reason behind Dean's guilty look.
"Yeah, I did," Dean confessed with a scowl. "She was sitting in the car, dripping water all over the upholstery."
"She was in the car?" Sam asked quietly, his eyes conveying fear for his brother. "But, she didn't try anything?"
"She wanted me to follow her to the lake," Dean answered. At the stricken look on Sam's face he quickly added, "But, I didn't follow her because I didn't have backup."
"You didn't even call," Sam replied accusingly. He was picking at the fabric pills on the motel blanket, and not returning Dean's gaze.
"I think my cell is dead," Dean replied.
When Sam's only response was to blink in confusion, Dean stood up, slapped Sam on the knee and said, "Jeez, you aren't any more fun stoned than you are drunk. Come on, kiddo, I'm taking you back to the hospital."
That seemed to snap Sam from his stupor. "No," he protested lifting his head to look at Dean. "I'm fine. I'm just having a little trouble focusing, that's all."
"Sam, it's more than that," Dean argued. He was met with wide eyes, begging him to change his mind. Dean knew he would cave to Sam, so he tried to salvage as much of a win as possible. "Okay, I'm sure you'll sleep it off," Dean capitulated. "Did you get any new prescriptions?"
Sam looked confused, and he glanced over at the table. Digging into his coat pocket, Sam pulled out two prescription scripts. "Strange, I thought I left these on the table. I guess I really am out of it."
Dean squirmed mentally as he was attacked by a guilty conscience. He should let Sam know he had actually left his discharge instructions on the table, but allowing Sam to think otherwise served two purposes. One, Sam would realize he was not up to par, and two, Dean could read over the papers and get the scoop first-hand rather than Sam's diluted version of the truth. It wasn't exactly fair, but being a big brother was not about being fair. It was about keeping his little brother safe. It was a job Dean felt he had not lived up to the past few days, and he was going to change that by whatever means necessary.
Dean snagged the prescription scripts from Sam and stated, "Why don't you sleep for awhile, and get whatever it is out of your system? I'll pick up your prescriptions and dinner."
"You're not leaving here without me," Sam stated firmly. "Besides, I don't think there's anything to sleep off. They gave it to me right before I left the hospital. It couldn't have taken that long to cause a reaction."
"How long ago was it?" Dean asked, stopping in his task long enough to shoot Sam a questioning look. He removed the blanket from his bed, folded it tightly, and tucked it, and a pillow, under his arm. He turned back around, and saw Sam staring at his watch in obvious confusion. "What?" he asked.
"It's only been a little bit over an hour," Sam replied quietly running a hand through his too-long hair. "It feels a lot longer than that."
"Time always seems longer when you are waiting…and worried," Dean conceded, suddenly understanding how long of a day Sam must have had. "I'm sorry about that, I lost track of time, and I should have come back for you first, Sam."
Dean held out his free hand as part peace offering, and part offer of assistance. Sam accepted, and Dean carefully hauled Sam to his feet, mindful of his ribs. Sam swayed slightly before regaining his balance, and Dean seriously considered reneging on his offer. The look of relief on Sam's face held Dean's tongue. He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and shepherded his brother out the still open door. "You really are a light-weight, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath.
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After placing an order at the restaurant, Dean left Sam in the car while he ran into the pharmacy. He was not exactly thrilled at the prospect of Sam sleeping in the car. Dean had parked the Impala where it could easily be seen from inside the pharmacy, but it was not an unobstructed view. Display racks of old magazines, dusty perfume bottles, and clearance items were blocking the window to some degree. Dean moved quickly to the counter, and waited impatiently for the pharmacist to finish helping the elderly woman in front of him in line.
"Here you go, Gladys," the pharmacist said his vowels elongated in a strong and distinctive Minnesota accent. He handed Gladys a paper bag. "So, you've taken these before, then?"
"Yah, Norlin," Gladys replied, sticking the pills in her purse. "Last time I was all bound up, I took these."
'Whoa, I really didn't need to know that,' Dean thought. He glanced out the window to check on Sam. It occurred to him, he was being unreasonable. Sam was a grown man, sleeping in a locked car, in a very small town. He doubted Sam would be safer anywhere else. There was always Sam's penchant for encountering freaks, and supernatural entities to consider, however.
"May I help you?" Norlin asked.
"Huh? Oh, sorry," Dean replied snapping his attention away from Sam and to the pharmacist. He had not even noticed Gladys leaving. He handed the prescription scripts to Norlin. "When can I pick these up?" Dean asked.
"Well, we are closing in just a few minutes, and we are only open until noon on Saturdays. So, be sure to get here…" Norlin answered, his voice trailing off. "Wait just a minute, I think Dr. Polson called these in this afternoon. He was complaining about two stubborn patients of his."
Norlin searched in the small bin of completed orders until he found the bag for Sam Richards. "Yep, here it is," Norlin said, brandishing the small, paper bag. "Dr. Polson wanted me to be sure to tell you, Sam needs to start taking these immediately, and if he develops any signs of infection to bring him back in."
"Not a problem, thanks," Dean replied, handing the pharmacist Sam's insurance card.
"Don't need it, son," Norlin said, handing Dean back the card. "Hospital faxed it over this morning. Oh, don't look so shocked. We do have modern technology around here."
Dean closed his mouth, and bit back his original reply. "Sam seems to be having a reaction of some kind to the medication he was given at the hospital."
"Does he have a fever, itching, or stomach cramping?" Norlin asked his brow furrowed.
"No, nothing like that," Dean replied. "He's just easily confused, and he's having trouble focusing. He's even a little, well, a little sensitive."
"Uh-hmmm, it sounds more like a drug sensitivity than an allergic reaction to me," Norlin replied. "If the symptoms worsen, or change I'd take him to the hospital. Otherwise, they should wear off within four to eight hours."
"Good," Dean replied. "How much do I owe you?"
"Ten dollars for your co-pay," Norlin replied. He looked at Dean thoughtfully for a minute and then added, "Or, he could simply have a point."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, pulling ten bucks out of his wallet.
"Well, a drug sensitivity causes many of the same symptoms as intoxication, not the least of which is a lowering of inhibition," Norlin explained. He poked Dean lightly in the chest and said, "Maybe, he had a point in what he was saying, but he normally wouldn't say anything."
Dean tossed the ten dollar bill onto the counter. He was not in the mood for another lecture, especially from a stranger. "Thanks," Dean replied with a nod. "I'll keep an eye on him."
"You do that," Norlin replied, turning away from Dean and putting the money in the till. By the time he turned around again, Dean was gone.
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Sam awoke slowly to the sensation of being watched. He assumed at first it was Dean hovering, so he made no effort to pull himself out of his half-awake state. However, after several long moments he realized the presence he felt was not Dean, but someone else.
He cracked open his eyes, and peered through the fog covered passenger window. He could not see anyone, but the light was behind him, and his own reflection was blocking his view. He rubbed the fog off the window with the sleeve of his jacket, and nearly hit his head on the roof, when he jumped.
An old woman was standing merely inches from the Impala's passenger window. Her long, gray hair hung loosely down to her waist. She wore several layers of miss-matched clothing all piled onto her frail frame. She knocked on the passenger window, and her mouth was moving as if she was saying something, but Sam could not hear her.
Sam cracked the window, and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Don't answer the knockin'," the old woman replied with a heavy, Scandinavian accent. She backed slowly away from the Impala. "Don't answer the knockin'."
Sam was hit with a blast of cold air when he opened the door and exited the Impala. The sudden temperature change had him coughing lightly, but it worked up to more severe coughing in only seconds. Sam rested the palms of his hands on the hood of the car, and bent over trying to catch his breath while the coughing racked his damaged ribs. Finally, spent, he stood up carefully, and turned towards the woman, only to find himself face to face with his brother.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sam?" Dean demanded.
"I was trying to catch the old woman," Sam replied breathlessly.
"What old woman?" Dean asked concern etched on his every feature.
Sam turned in a small circle, looking in every direction. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. "I don't understand. She was just here," Sam protested.
"Sam," Dean said placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's okay, let's go."
"I swear, Dean, she was just here," Sam stated. He could tell Dean did not believe him. He knew Dean thought the medication was affecting him, but a little lack of focus was hell and gone from hallucinations.
"What did she do? Did she say anything?" Dean asked, opening the passenger door.
"She was standing there, and then she knocked on the window," Sam explained sitting down in the seat. "She said, 'Don't answer the knocking.'"
"She knocks on the window, and then tells you not to answer the knocking? Talk about a mixed signal." Dean replied closing the door. He walked around the front of the Impala, and climbed into the driver's seat.
"It sounded like she was trying to warn me," Sam said. He was frustrated at his inability to string his thoughts together in a coherent pattern. He knew he was missing something, but he could not, for the life of him, figure out what it was.
"Don't worry about it, Sam," Dean replied casting his brother a concerned side-long glance. "Let's get something to eat, and then we'll both get some rest. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out in the morning."
Sam swiveled in his seat to face Dean. "You won't go anywhere without me, right?" he asked.
"No, Sam," Dean replied apologetically. "I'm really am sorry I didn't come right back today. I know you needed me at the hospital. I'll have to admit, I didn't expect them to discharge you so early, but I should have come back sooner."
"This isn't about me, Dean," Sam argued. "It was never about me. This is about you, about you being reckless, about you not watching out for yourself. You know that whole, watching out for your brother thing?" Sam paused and waited for Dean to make eye contact with him. "It goes both ways," he finished.
"Yeah, okay, I get it," Dean replied the apology making it to his eyes this time. "I promise, the rest of the hunt, we'll stick together."
Sam rolled his eyes and remarked, "Well, that's closer, I guess."
Dean smacked Sam lightly on the arm and said, "Let's grab the food. I'm starved. Crazy-lady offered me a cookie, but I had to turn her down."
"Why?" Sam asked, snagging the bait.
Dean fired up the engine, and slowly pulled back out into Main Street. "Because, watching her son eat his own snot, killed my appetite."
Sam wrinkled his face in disgust and replied, "That's really sick."
"Hey, you're not telling me anything I don't know," Dean replied with a smirk.
Sam knew Dean was trying to restore a semblance of normalcy between them. Sam understood that his concern for his brother came very close to tipping the small canoe of Dean's control in emotionally turbulent waters. As a magnanimous gesture, Sam steered the conversation to safer territory. "You know what? I think I could eat," Sam announced.
"That's my boy," Dean said. He eased the Impala to a stop across the street from the Home20. "Wait here, I'll go pick up our order."
"Dean, it won't take any more time to eat it here, than I would at the motel. Let's just go inside to eat," Sam suggested. He could hear Dean making noises of protest as he slowly exited the car.
"Sam, stop," Dean said in a commanding tone. Sam turned around in the middle of the street to look back at his brother.
"You really think this is the safest place to have this conversation? I could get hit by a car," Sam noted with a bemused expression on his face.
"This isn't exactly a street full of roaring activity," Dean responded dryly, nevertheless pulling Sam towards the restaurant. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
"Dean, it's just dinner," Sam replied with a hint of amusement. "Unless you're planning on creating some excitement in there, I'm good." He turned away from Dean to walk into the restaurant, but was stopped short by a hand on his arm.
"What makes you think I'd be the one creating the excitement?" Dean asked the serious look on his face caused Sam to chuckle.
"Are you serious?" Sam asked. "Dude, you don't just find trouble, you bring it with you." He opened the door, to the restaurant and was rewarded with a waft of warm air carrying with it the fragrance of a home-cooked meal. "Age before beauty," he quipped holding the door open for Dean.
Dean's foot was across the threshold before Sam's comment registered with his brain. He turned with scowl on his face, and opened his mouth to comment, but he was interrupted by Edna. "Dean, it's good to see you again," Edna gushed, wrapping Dean in a hug.
The shocked look on Dean's face was worth the price of admission. Sam smiled, and puffed out a couple bursts of quiet laughter, before Edna turned her sights on him. "You must be Sam," she guessed, turning to approach Sam with her arms outstretched.
"No offense, Edna, but he's hurt," Dean commented. He eased himself between Sam and Edna, and put a hand on her arm.
"Oh yes, I was sorry to hear about that," Edna said sympathetically. "So, are you eating here, after all?" she asked.
"If that's not a problem, because if it is, we can…" Dean began.
"No, no problem," Edna interjected. "At least this way, I'll know you ate it instead of letting it go to waste." At Sam's questioning look, she leaned in closer to him and whispered, "Becky is my daughter-in-law."
'Of course she is,' Sam thought.
"Right this way, boys," Edna said gesturing them to a booth near the window. "I'll just slip your supper out of those boxes, and bring it out to you right away."
"Thank you," Sam replied sliding carefully into the bench seat. It was low, and hard, and he was going to have a hell of a time getting back out of it.
Dean took off his jacket, and tossed it on to the bench seat. Pushing up the sleeves of his gray Henley, Dean sat down across from Sam. Sam noticed Dean had bruises on his wrists. At first he assumed they were from when he had pulled Dean out of the lake, but they didn't look like ordinary bruises.
"I'm not sure we should waste any more time on an investigation. I think we should get on with the salt and burn, and be…hey," Dean exclaimed when Sam grabbed his arm. "Uh, Sammy, I don't really want to hold hands right now," Dean remarked sardonically.
"Shut up," Sam commanded. He pulled Dean's arm closer to him, and further under the overhead table lamp. The bruises did look like they were made by someone grabbing Dean's wrists, but they were thin, and smaller than Sam's hands.
"Okay, this is awkward," Dean muttered.
"These bruises, how long have you had them?" Sam asked.
"I don't know, ever since I woke up in the hospital I guess. Why?" Dean asked. He pulled gently against Sam's grasp, but Sam did not release his grip on Dean's arm.
"They look blue," Sam commented.
"Yeah, thus the phrase, black and blue," Dean remarked snidely.
"No, just blue," Sam contradicted releasing his hold on Dean's arm. "Take a look."
Dean lifted his arm, and took a close look at the bruises. Sam was right. They were a bright blue in color. "Well that's a little odd," he said finally.
"Supper's on, boys," Edna said choosing that moment to interrupt. "I wasn't sure what your stomachs could handle right now, so I made a lighter fare. I hope that's okay."
"Sounds great," Dean replied throwing Edna his mega-watt smile. "Thanks."
"Yeah, thanks," Sam replied. He waited until Edna walked away, and said, "I've been thinking about what you said."
"Can't go wrong there," Dean replied stabbing a piece of chicken.
"About the salt and burn," Sam continued ignoring Dean's comment. "We're in Minnesota in March."
"Yeah, so?" Dean asked as he took a drink of water. "What's your point?"
"There's still slush outside. What do you suppose the chances are the ground isn't frozen rock solid?" Sam asked. He had yet to take a bite, but when Dean looked up from his plate, Sam made a show out of taking a bite of mashed potatoes.
"Well, hell," Dean moaned. "I guess we better make damn sure we're digging up the right grave, or that's gonna suck."
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
The brothers were almost finished with their meal, when the local sheriff rushed into the restaurant. "Edna!" he bellowed.
"Calm down, Larry," Edna chastised severely. "You're scaring people."
"Sorry, about that, Edna," Larry replied lowering his voice. "There's been another drowning at the lake. The doctor is trying to revive the poor woman now, but no one is holding out much hope. Anyway, folks'll be putting in a lot of hours down there, and I was hoping to pick up a little nosh for everyone."
"Oh, Lord," Edna moaned. "Who was it?"
"Emma Enderson," Larry answered. "Her daughter is taking it pretty hard. You know how Emma's had bouts of dementia, and Patty thinks she wandered away from the family home, and down to the lake, sometime after supper."
"Oh, poor Patty," Edna replied hurrying towards the kitchen. "I'll pack up some food for you in two shakes. I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. Larry nodded and took a seat by the front door.
Sam's mind traveled back to thoughts of Dean at the lake today without him. His anger started to burn anew until he saw the look on Dean's face. "Dean?" he asked softly.
"I was just talking to Patty this afternoon," Dean replied quietly. He looked up at Sam and said forcefully, "We have to end this thing, one way or the other."
"We will," Sam reassured Dean. He slid to the edge of the bench, placed one hand on the table, and one on the back of the seat, and slowly stood up. "Let's go."
Dean nodded, grabbed his leather jacket, and tossed twenty-five dollars on the table. The two Winchesters walked out to the Impala, and drove off towards the hospital.
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TBC – feedback welcome!
A special thank you to Carocali for the booster shot.
Thank you to everyone who has been reading!