Bloodlines

Chapter 5

Sam was headed back to the hospital. The last seventy-two hours had been pretty rough. Dean was still out of it—he woke briefly, but was disoriented from the head injury and the pain meds they were pumping into him in a steady stream. Hilly had suggested after the first twelve hours that they tag team it. Trading off in five or six hour shifts, that way they could both get some sleep and a hot shower, but there was someone with Dean twenty-four hours a day. Sam suspected that Hilly had made special arrangements somehow, the hospital staff just took it for granted that one of them was always there.

Sam pulled Hilly's car into "their" parking place—they always seemed to get the same one. They had started driving her car when they had heard of break-ins in the hospital lot. Hilly had said it was probably better to risk her car than "face the giant ball of snot if something happens to the Impala." Unfortunately for Sam, he didn't fit in her tiny car very well, if this went on much longer he was planning to take out the driver's seat and sit in the back to drive.

He stopped by the espresso stand and got lattes—that was also becoming a routine. Sally, the barista, knew him by name now. The rule was whoever was coming in to "start the shift" brought coffees for both. They would drink the coffee together, discuss any changes in Dean's condition and then whoever was "off shift" would leave. It felt like they had been doing it for years, it was settling into just the way of life for the two of them.

They usually spent the afternoons together in Dean's room. Talking or reading or watching TV. Hilly spent some time writing on her laptop. She had asked the paper for emergency family leave, but the owner had said as long as she kept the stories coming she could work out of the office. She was working on a story about the developers where Mary lived. She would occasionally chuckle maliciously as she wrote, she was planning, as she put it, "to nail them to the wall with a six inch spike." She had told Sam that violating an archaeological site in Arizona was a major crime and she muttered occasionally about breaking a potentially award-winning story.

She looked up when he walked into the room. "Hey," she took the coffee. "Thanks."

"Any change?"

"He woke up about three hours ago, but it was the usual thing," she said with a sad sigh. It had been the same for the last three days, Dean woke up every three or four hours, he would ask the same questions and drop back off. It was like his brain was stuck in a loop. The doctor had said something about brain damage—Sam and Hilly were both getting very worried.

"I had hoped that once they backed the pain meds off he would improve," Sam said.

"Yeah me, too. Maybe we just need to give it time" she said giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'll be back at 2, I need to drop the first part of my story off at the paper, then I'll be home, if you need me." She smiled at him and left.

Sam sat down in the chair by the bed. He pulled out the book he had been reading, but after a few minutes he realized that the words were going by, he had been turning the pages, but nothing had actually made it into his brain. He shut the book with a sigh and started pacing. It was fifteen paces from the door to the window, thirty small ones and if he really stretched he could do it in eight large ones. He also knew there were 360 tiles in the ceiling, 321 tiles on the floor, the nurse came by once every forty-three minutes, it was fifty steps to the elevators and once on the main floor, eighty paces to the espresso stand. There were also 124 parking places in the lot visible from the window in Dean's room. He had stopped by the window and was recounting, in case they added one in the last six hours.

"Sam?"

He turned and walked over to the bed. "I'm here, Dean."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Mary? Hilly?"

"They're fine too, Dean."

"My leg feels weird."

"You had to have surgery, Dean. There is a drain in it."

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, concern creeping into his voice. "I thought you said everyone was ok?"

Sam looked up, that wasn't part of the script that had been running these last three days. He realized that Dean was actually focused on him. "Everyone is ok. It's you we were worried about." Sam knew there was a really stupid smile spreading on his face.

"Me, why? I'm ok. When do I get to go?"

"Dean, dude, you are not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"Dean…" He was at a loss for words. His brother drove him stark staring nuts sometimes.

"What?" Dean was still groggy, and he had started poking at his leg with one hand. "What's the IV for?"

"Primarily liquids so you don't die of dehydration, but they've had you on morphine since it happened."

"How could I possibly die of dehydration in one day, Sam?" he said in the scolding "big brother" voice.

"You couldn't. Not in one day—three and a half days are different."

That stopped the poking. Dean looked up at him, "What?"

"Three and a half days, actually it is eighty four hours and twelve minutes, to be precise."

"Don't jerk me around, Sam."

"I'm not. Three and a half days. You have been here that long, so you are damned well not leaving until the doc gives you the ok."

"They can't keep me against my will," Dean was starting to slur the words together, his eyes were starting to close again. "We'll discuss this when I wake up again, dude."

"I'll make sure Hilly is here for that one," Sam said.

Dean's eyes opened a tiny bit, "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

"Bet on it, Dean."

"Bit…" the usual insult ended as Dean drifted off.

As soon as he was sure Dean was asleep he went into the hall and called Hilly.

"What is it?" She answered, concerned.

"He woke up, actually woke up," Sam said, hearing the immense relief in his voice. "Are you still there?" The other end was quiet.

"Yeah," her voice was soft, mirroring his relief.

"He wants to leave when he wakes up."

"I'll be back, I'll need to stop by the hardware store, though."

"What for?"

"Duct tape. We'll just tape him in bed. See if he leaves then," she said. Sam started to laugh, she was laughing, too. "Be there in about fifteen."

Six hours later and they had discussed Dean's prognosis with the doctor. He said that as long as Dean kept improving they could probably release him in another three days. The drain could come out first thing in the morning. They had also consumed four more large coffees each and were currently playing a slightly psychotic game of cards. Sam wasn't really sure what they were playing. They made up the rules as they went along and as the caffeine built up the rules were getting more and more complicated.

"Sam?" They both dropped their cards at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Yeah, Dean? We're here," Sam said stepping up to the bed, he could feel Hilly right beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap, my leg is aching a bit," he said.

"They lowered the dosage on your pain meds about twelve hours ago," Sam said.

"Still trying to convince me I've been here longer than overnight?"

"Yeah. Still trying."

"That's what we're here for, to force you to stay here longer than you want," Hilly said with a nasty edge to her voice, Sam turned to her with a frown.

Dean heard something else in her voice, however, "Oh, god, this isn't going to be some huge weepy chick flick is it?"

"This is nothing of the kind," Hilly said taking his hand. "This is an intervention. You are going to lie there like a good boy or…or…" Sam noticed tears forming in her eyes, apparently Dean called it right.

"Or what?" Dean said.

"Or—or else. So there."

"Ooh, I'm scared now."

"You better be."

"I am, really I am," Dean said smiling at her.

"Whatever."

"Are you two finished?" Sam asked.

"Pretty much," Hilly said. "Dean?"

"Yep. At least for the time being."

"And he's not going to leave until the doctor says it's ok," Hilly said firmly, still holding Dean's hand. Sam noticed Dean's fingers had curled around her hand.

"Yep. Staying here until it's safe to leave," Dean said with a smirk.

The hospital ended up releasing Dean in two and a half days instead of the three the doctor had mentioned. Sam had a sneaking suspicion it was for the sanity of the hospital staff and had very little to do with his brother's health. Dean had been driving everyone crazy with his insistence he was fine and could leave at anytime. He loudly and repeatedly said he was just staying to keep the peace with Sam and Hilly.

He shut up when they brought in the crutches so he could try them out before he left. With the dizziness from the concussion and the pain from broken and badly bruised ribs he could not manage them. He ended up leaving the hospital in a wheelchair, a chair he was told he could be in for another three or four days, if not more. Sam was worried about the sudden lack of protest from his brother. He was meekly doing as he was told and even let Sam half lift him into the Impala when they left. When they got back to Hilly's that evening, he quietly asked if he could sit in the backyard before dinner.

Sam wandered out to sit with him after checking to see if Hilly needed any help. She chased him out the backdoor. "Go out, talk. Something's up," she said as she pushed him out the door.

"Hey," he said sitting down in the lawn chair next to his brother.

"Hey," Dean said looking over at him with a smile. "You come out on your own or were you pushed?"

"I was planning to come out before I was pushed," Sam said defensively. "I just thought I would see if she needed any help before I abandoned her."

"She's in pie-will-solve-everything mode, it's best to just get out of the way when she's like that," he said with a laugh.

"She did say something about making a pie," Sam smiled and then looked at Dean with a quizzical look. "Prickly pear pie?"

"Oh, god, really? That pie actually can solve everything. You're not kidding me are you?"

"How could I make that up?"

Dean sighed happily, "This day just got a lot better."

"Dean?"

"I'm ok, Sammy."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"I'm ok, Sam."

"You're ok?"

"Yep. I'm fine."

Sam changed tactics, "Ok, you're fine. I believe you Dean, except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"You let me carry you up the stairs," Sam said looking at him with his eyebrows up.

Dean deflated, "You win. I'm a little upset about the fact I am stuck in this damn chair. I might be a little annoyed about the whole still can't walk thing."

"It's only been a few days, the doctor said your knee would be fine."

"Doesn't make me less annoyed about it, Sammy."

Sam laughed, "Yeah. I can see that, but the whole meek thing doesn't really work for you, Dean."

"Probably not, but maybe if I am really quiet she won't bug me as much," Dean laughed. "And look—the meek thing—it's going to get us homemade pie. Prickly pear pie."

"You two want dinner?" Hilly said from the door.

"Sure," Sam stood up and pushed Dean towards the kitchen.

"I'd probably feel better if you brought dinner out to the backyard," Dean said softly.

"You will probably feel better without my foot up your ass, wheels."

"Yep. Definitely would."

A week after Dean got out of the hospital he was able to get around the house on the crutches. He was driving Sam to distraction. He would try, at least once or twice a day to walk with just a cane and would end up flat on his back. At first he would yell for Sam to help him up, but after suffering through several lectures about taking it easy, he would just wait until Sam came and found him and helped him back on his feet. Of course, Sam knew every time he fell, he was actually keeping a pretty close eye on his brother, but he also knew that Dean needed to try.

Dean was "crutching"—as he put it—around the backyard when Hilly came out.

"Hey, Katherine just called. She said Mary would like to come over and see you. Is that ok? Are you up to company?"

"Do you mean am I up to seeing someone other than the two of you? Hell, yes."

"You are so sweet, just too kind. They will be here in ten minutes. I told them you would want to see her."

"Then why did you ask? Just to see if you could make me squirm?"

"Have to get my entertainment somewhere," she said with a smile. Dean flipped her off, he was getting pretty good at doing that and still keeping his balance with the crutches.

"I am so going to kill her," Dean said to Sam when Hilly went back in the house.

"She said the same thing about you, not two hours ago."

"See? See how I suffer?"

"Come on let's go inside so you can be settled when they get here. If she grabs you the was she usually does you will end up in a heap on the floor."

Sam had just helped Dean onto the couch when they arrived. Mary came into the room, her eyes were wide. "Hi, Uncle Dean. How do you feel?" She walked over to Dean and stopped in front of him. She had a gift bag clutched in her hands.

"I'm fine, Mary. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good. I sleep in my room every night. She never comes back anymore."

"That's good. That's really good."

"You made her go away," she looked a little tearful, "But I was scared. You didn't wake up."

"I'm fine now. I just hit my head."

"Mama said you were in the hospital," she pronounced the word carefully, clearly going to the hospital was a very big deal to her.

"I'm out now. Sam and I are staying with Aunt Hilly for little while."

"You could stay with us if you didn't want to leave."

"Thank you, but Sam and I need to go home sometime." Sam looked at his brother, Dean was having trouble with the interview.

"What's in the bag?" Sam asked, trying to change the mood.

"Oh, I got these for you, to say thank you. I picked them out myself." She shoved the bag forward, into Dean's hands.

Sam watched Dean open the packages in the bag. One held a framed picture of Mary, the other a key chain.

"You can put your keys on it. I picked it out to match your car. I like black and silver."

"Me, too. Thank you, Mary."

"We don't want to tire Dean out too much," Hilly said from behind the couch. "You can come and see him again before he leaves. Ok, Mary?"

"Promise?"

"Promise," Dean said. Mary turned to leave, "hey, don't I get a hug?" Dean said leaning forward. Mary propelled herself into his arms, Sam heard him grunt as she came into contact with bruised ribs. He held her for a minute then let her go. She took her mother's hand and walked out of the room. She smiled back when she reached the door. "Bye Mary."

"Bye, Uncle Dean, see you real soon."

"Sure." The door closed behind them and Dean leaned back on the couch.

"You ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, just give me a minute, Sammy." Sam took the hint and he and Hilly headed into the kitchen, leaving Dean alone on the couch.

Epilogue

"Hey, the car's all packed," Sam said walking back into the living room. "We got everything?"

"I think so, just let me check the bedrooms again," Dean said walking carefully towards the back of the house. He was still using the cane, but he was much more sure on his feet than he had been even a week ago.

Sam watched him. He was walking better. But Sam was torn. He thought Dean still need a little more time to recuperate, but Dean wanted to get on the road again. After spending most of his life on the road nearly a month in one spot was almost unbearable. And Sam had to admit after three weeks of what he had begun to think of as the "Dean and Hilly Show" he was fairly ready to go, too. The two of them never quit. If they weren't picking on each other, they were picking on Sam. It was all good natured, even loving, but it never stopped. One day they had decided to drive the thirty-five miles to Laughlin, Nevada for dinner and gambling. Sam had nearly stranded the both of them in the middle of the desert before the night was over.

"Nope, looks like we got everything," Dean said coming into the room. "What?"

Sam realized he had been staring, lost in thought. "Nothing."

"Looks like we're packed and ready to go," Dean said to Hilly.

"Not quite," she handed him a packet. "Here, and don't try to not take them. Insurance cards, if you need them, and a credit card. It's in Dean Iommi's name, use it if you need it. And if I find out you needed either of those things and didn't use them…"

"You'll hunt me down and make a pretty purse out of my skin?"

"Yeah," she hooked her arm through his and they walked out to the car. They three of them stopped and stood together for a minute. "Mary expects you back for her fifth birthday in nine months."

"I know, we'll be here."

"Come hell or high water?" She said with a smile.

"Come hell or high water," Dean said with a laugh.

"Sam," she turned to him and pulled him into a hug. He returned it. He had grown very fond of Hilly in the past month. "I'll miss you, take care of yourself," she said.

"And Dean?" he whispered.

"Of course, he couldn't be in better hands," she squeezed a little tighter and released him. "Well?" She looked at Dean.

"Well, what?"

"Well, are you going to take care of yourself?"

"Yep."

"Liar."

"Bite me."

"How many times do I have to tell you not in front of Sam?" She laughed and hugged him, he returned the embrace. They stood that way for a long moment.

"Ok, Sammy," Dean said pulling gently away, he still had her hand in his. "Time to hit the road." He squeezed her hand and then dropped carefully into the passenger seat of the Impala. "See you in nine months. Talk to you soon."

"Yeah, keep safe, you two. Oh, and I put a new tape in the stereo. Enjoy."

Sam turned the car on and Black Sabbath began blaring out of the speakers. Hilly stood waving until they turned from the street.