One day, when I rule the world, this disclaimer won't be neccessary.

Chapter 3. Short and Sweet. I swear, the next chapter Chase gets a chance to talk. Woo-hoo!

It was obvious Chase would need a hunting ground somewhere close to her house, so, with a little investigation, he slammed the car door and headed toward Little River.

Much to his dismay, Erica's explanation was correct. Thirty minutes into the drive and he still hadn't come to the infamous gavel driveway. He could understand why the house would appeal to Chase. It far away from prying eyes, and, therefore, perfect for a half-wolf/half-human changeling. Vaguely, he dredged up a memory of one of their conversations. She had always wanted to live out in the country, claiming it would give her the privacy and seclusion she craved.

Finally, the asphalt gave way to gravel, and minutes later, Sam was parked in front of a very large, very old, very dark house. He eased his way up the front steps and quickly picked the lock on the front door. The heavy wood opened with a creak revealing a scene straight from a home and garden magazine. The dining room, living room, and kitchen were immaculate, almost inhumanly perfect. The whole thing was obviously set up for unexpected visitors. Both the off white couch and the mahogany dining table screamed façade.

It wasn't until Sam stumbled into a bedroom that he was sure Chase had been here. There were about twenty boxes stacked and strewn around the room, and the bed was a tangle of sheets and pillows. There were also claw marks at the base of the door as well as under the window. Frowning, Sam left the small haven and ventured into the spotless kitchen. Medications were normally refrigerated, right?

As he rummaged through the fruits and vegetables, Sam couldn't help but wonder about the situation. First of all, what was Chase doing that she needed a picture perfect reception area? Especially when her actual living space was a complete mess. And why had she called Dean? It seemed like she was doing a pretty good job of fending for herself. After all, they hadn't heard from her in months. Granted, a hospital was pretty serious, but why Dean? Why now? It wasn't that he resented it or anything. It was just weird.

And then there was his brother. He expected him to drop everything for Dad, maybe even for Cassie, but for a girl he spent a little less than a week with? It wasn't his brother. Dean hadn't even talked about her after they left South Carolina except to tell him that Chase had shit of her own to deal with and it was time they part ways. He had laughed at that. It sounded like code for 'I'm sick of her let's move on.'

But here they were. In nowheresville, Pennsylvania hoping to save a werewolf. No, a loup-garou. Werewolves couldn't be saved. He had learned that lesson the hard way. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and continued looking for whatever it was he was supposed to be looking for. "Jackpot," he muttered when his fingers grazed a cool, glass vile. Further investigation uncovered several syringes filled with whatever it was they were supposed to be filled with. As he exited the house he cast a glance back into the full size magazine page. What had she gotten herself into?

XxXxX

"Just wake up," Dean pleaded for the millionth time. But, like the million times before, she just lay there. Not moving. Barely breathing. As if she was trying to die. The beep of the heart monitor was the only noise in the room, and even that was faint.

"She any different?"

His head snapped up at the sound of Sam's voice. "No. Do you have it?"

"Yeah," Sam pulled a needle out of his pocket. "Security's surprisingly relaxed here."

Dean watched as his brother expertly injected the serum into the already attached IV tube. It took a few minutes for it to drip into her veins, but as soon as it did, there was a noticeable difference. The beeping of the heart monitor grew a little steadier, and her skin regained a little color. Soon, her breathing was stronger, the ugly gash was closing itself up, and a quiet groan escaped her lips.

"I'll go get a doctor," Sam said.

With a grateful nod, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and watched Chase's eyes slowly open. "You know they had started calling you sleeping beauty," he said softly as soon as her eyes had locked with his, "It's a shame your prince never showed up."

A slight smile was painted onto her face. "Someone needs to get this needle out of my chest." Her voice was rough.

Dean laughed. "Good to see you, too."

"Well, well, well." A boisterous doctor walked into the room. "If it isn't the eyes of Aurora. Tell me, princess, did your prince finally come?" He pulled a stethoscope out of the pocket of his coat

Dean raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction. What was this guy on? Chase's expression asked the same question, and Dean chuckled when she caught his eye.

"My name is Chastity," she muttered as the doctor jotted a note on a yellow slip of paper.

"Lovely name," he replied. "I'm Doctor Wesley Parke. You've been here three days now, and it's most certainly going to be one of the stories I tell my interns." He pulled an empty needle out of a jar that sat on a grey counter across the room. "Just a small blood sample, dear."

Chase willingly held out her arm. "When are you going to take these out?" she asked, gesturing to the tube in her chest as well as the IV in her arm.

"In good time. We'll have to see what this shows us first." He held up the now blood filled vile.

"When will she be able to leave?" Dean asked, stepping up.

Dr. Parke turned to face him. "You do realize how serious her condition is?"

"Was," Dean replied, "She seems fine now."

"Seemingly yes," he stated glancing at the heart monitor, "But we shall have to see." He turned back to Chase, "I'll send this to the lab, and be back before you can recite the Japanese alphabet." He strode out of the room.

"Well," Sam said, "That was interesting."

"You said it." Dean sat back down.

"How long have you all been here?" Chase asked quietly.

"About a day," Sam came to stand beside his brother.

Chase nodded. "I should thank you, then."

"It wasn't a big deal," Dean replied tapping his fingers against his leg. She seemed so collected and at ease with everything. God knows, if he were in a hospital for the kind of crap she was here for calm wouldn't exist.

"No," she corrected, "you didn't have to come. It's a very big deal. Thank you."

Dean smiled, "You're right. Me and Sam were in the middle of a huge hunt. We were actually going after the devil himself, and then-"

"Sorry to interrupt Dean's, um, fairy-tale," Sam laughed, "but how did you get here?"

"I was just hunting," she muttered smoothing the bumps in the thin blanket. "Some guy thought I was going after his kids. He threw the knife."

"Why would you be close to kids?" Sam persisted.

"I wasn't." Chase sighed and then yawned. "Listen, guys, I'm really grateful you came, I obviously owe you my life, but I'm sure you have better things to do than hang around here."

"You mean like hang out around a cheap motel room?" Dean joked, "Yeah, that's much better."

"No," she frowned, "I'm mean hunting. What case did you drop to come here?"

"Nothing. We had just finished off a haunting in New Jersey."

"And I'm sure the fun of Pennsylvania's just calling to you." Chase replied sarcastically. "Seriously, there's no reason for you all to stay. I know you hate hospitals, Dean. And I'm sure Sam's ready to go." She looked at the younger man for a moment and Dean could swear there was sympathy in her eyes.

"You want us gone?"

"It's not that. It's just…" Chase continued smoothing the blanket.

"Just what?" Dean put his hand over hers to still it.

"You shouldn't be here."

"And why is that?"

"I don't…I just…" she prattled on.

"I get it." Dean stood. "If you say we shouldn't be here, then we shouldn't be here." He walked toward the door, "Let's go, Sam."

"I'm sorry there's not more here for you," Chase stated.

Dean looked back and nodded. "What can you do?" he said with a shrug, "Glad you're going to be okay."