Okay, as promised, I didn't keep you all hanging forever with that last cliffhanger. Thanks to everyone following this story and those of you generous enough to leave a review. Hotshow and I really appreciate it!!
Chapter 16
Dean raced through the house, eyes sharp for something that could bust in a door. He spotted an endtable that might work. He grabbed it, intending to carry it into the hall, and his abused ribs chose that exact moment to not just make themselves known, but scream, jump up and down, and paralyze him with pain.
"Dean?" Bobby's voice broke through the wall of pain as strong hands lifted him off the floor.
He blinked through the haze covering his vision. "Bobby, Sam's trapped. Steam room."
"Steam room?" Bobby groaned. "Leave it to Marty." He pulled Dean to his feet. Dean gasped as pain rolled over him again, causing his vision to swim.
"Did you try picking that up?" Bobby demanded, pointing out the heavy endtable.
"Figured, break down, door," Dean gasped.
Bobby shook his head, heading for the kitchen. "Wait there, I'll be right back."
Dean had no intention of waiting there, but when Bobby returned he was still in the same spot, same position. Damn it. Bobby carried two fire extinguishers, held one out to him. Dean took it, following on Bobby's heels. "Here," he said, motioning to the correct door.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, pounding on the door. "You ready?"
"Just break it in already!" Sam shouted back. Dean heard the underlying panic in Sam's voice and wondered at it. Sam was not the type to panic. With a nod to Bobby, they attacked the doorknob in turns with the fire extinguishers. By the third hit, Dean's side felt like it was on fire and he saw double. His lungs no longer contained air. Pushing the sensation aside, Dean forced a deep breath in and threw his whole body behind the next blow.
Bobby pushed against the door, but it still didn't budge. "Dean!" Sam shouted from inside the room. "What's wrong?"
"Damn it." Dean leaned against the opposite wall, eyeing the door. "Bobby, get ready to carry me to the car."
"What?"
Dean lunged at the door. His right shoulder connected and he felt the doorframe give way, splintering under his force and weight. His fall was stopped by the floor, nice of it. Little flares of light danced in his vision, obscuring Sam, the room, or anything else that might be in there. Damp, wet heat assaulted his face, making breathing damn near impossible.
"Dean!" Sam's voice. Well, at least his little brother was all right. Stupid imp. He felt someone pulling on his left arm.
"No!" he gasped, laboriously rolling onto his back. Dean had to stare for a moment before Sam's sweat-soaked face came into view. He held up his right hand. Sam took it, pulled him up. Forcing air in and out, ignoring the screams from his body, Dean managed a smile at Sam. "Look a little underdone there, Sammy."
Sam leaned with his back against the wall, shaking his head. "Not funny, Dean."
"Sure it was," Dean grunted, his right hand going to his side as he stood on his own. "We'd better find that opal quick. Another one of those might kill me."
He noticed Sam's eyes widen at that. Dean shot him a look and Sam turned away, following Bobby. Dean followed a few paces behind, unable to think about anything except how nice a soft bed would feel about now.
"Dean?" Sam's voice penetrated through his thoughts. "You all right, man?"
Dean stared at his brother a moment before answering. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Why?"
"Bobby asked if you had any ideas on more places to look," Sam replied, his eyes scouring Dean's face.
Dean frowned at the attention. There were more important things to worry about than him. He glanced over to Bobby. "You check Birdie's jewelry box? Chicks like to wear stuff like that."
Bobby appeared thoughtful. "Now that's an idea." He pointed down the hall. "I think their room is at the back."
"It is." George approached them from behind. "Why? What's going on?"
Dean did not even try to hide the scowl on his face at George's voice. If he had time, he might wonder about what Mike must be thinking, but he didn't have that kind of time. George, however, was being an ass. "Nevermind," Dean snarled, moving to follow Bobby.
"Dean? What's wrong? Something happen to your side?" George asked. The guy even sounded worried. Gee, wasn't that nice of him?
"He had to bust down the door to the sauna," Bobby said, turning around. "Sam was locked in."
George's hand flew to his hurt side. Dean pulled back, gritting his teeth, telling George with his eyes to back the hell off.
"You two go ahead," George waved Bobby and Sam off, "I need to check on Dean."
Sam moved closer. "Why? You think he might be hurt worse? What could be wrong?" His brother sounded a little stressed.
"Go on," Dean snapped. "Let this mother hen take care of it. You'll get your turn later." Sam glared at him a moment, lips pressed tightly together, before giving a short nod and following Bobby. Dean waited until they were out of sight in the furthest room down the hall before leaning back against the wall. "I felt something snap," he confessed to George to in a low voice.
George frowned. "Where?"
Dean lifted his shirt, motioning in the general area. He felt George poke and prod, but his fingers were gentle despite the pain they were causing. George let out a deep sigh. "Well, without x-rays, I'd have to say at least one of those cracked ribs is broken now. I don't think they've moved out of place, but…"
Dean groaned, pulling his shirt back down. "But what?"
George leveled a hard stare on him. "You can't go knocking down doors like that. You could drive a broken rib into a lung, or maybe cause something even worse."
"Thank you Florence," Dean snapped, intending to walk away. George grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Wait. Dean. I, uh…" He heard George take in a deep breath. Dean glanced over his shoulder, waiting. "I'm still worried."
"You should be," Dean stated. "It's here." With that he left George standing in the hall. When he reached the far bedroom where Bobby and Sam searched, Dean looked back. "Don't tell me you want to stay out here by yourself?"
George blanched at the suggestion, hurried footsteps coming to meet him. Dean grinned as George slipped by him into the bedroom. Well, if he had to be honest, George was coping better than most. But what was up with Mike? Now that guy was really being weird. Dean didn't know what to make of it.
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George entered his aunt and uncle's bedroom, one place he never wanted to be. He still thought of them as belonging in a 60's sitcom, with separate twin beds. But there it was, that huge feather bed with the creaky springs. Every time he slept over here as a kid, he would hear those springs in the middle of the night. The one time he mentioned it to his parents, when he was about ten, his father started laughing and his mother turned beet-red and told him not to worry about it. He figured it out a few years later, but not until after he made the mistake of going to listen at their bedroom door in the dead of night. George shuddered again at the thought.
Trying to take his mind off past mistakes, George focused on the task at hand. They wanted a black opal Bobby sold to Aunt Birdie a few years ago. Fine. If that would cure some of this nonsense, George was all for it. Once everyone could relax about this supposed imp, maybe he would be able to get Dean back in for additional x-rays. He didn't say anything, but he was pretty sure one of the ribs had moved out of place. Even with the pain killers, Dean had to be in serious pain.
George swept both brother's with his practiced eye. Sam was unfocused and covered in sweat, the latter attributable to the steam room, but clearly still suffering the aftereffects of that blow to the head. Wayne was going to have his ass for participating in this madness when Sam ought to be recuperating in the hospital. A thin sheen of sweat was apparent on Dean's face now too, and his cheeks were flush. Perfect. Even Bobby looked the worse for wear with his torn and stained clothes. The three of them looked like they just came out on the wrong end of a car wreck. Now, that might be a good excuse.
With a shake of the head, George chastised himself for wanting to come up with believable excuses. Like any of this was real! He knew better, he told himself. He did. He knew better. But where would Aunt Birdie put a special black opal she had never shown the family? Or had she? George tried to think back, to remember any new stones or jewelry his aunt may have flashed in the past couple of years, but he drew a blank. Instead, he rooted through her dresser drawers, desperately hoping everything she owned in there was age appropriate.
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Bobby stepped back from his fruitless search to survey the room again. Birdie had a black opal, a special one. She knew it was special because she had requested it specifically. Now where would she keep it? The black opal was supposed to have not protective properties but the ability to render other supernatural abilities inert. In short, it protected by short-circuiting anything someone else might use against her. It would make their house wards and charms ineffective as well. Bobby frowned, scratching his chin. If he were Marty and Birdie, he wouldn't keep something like that in the house. As he recalled, Bobby told them that at the time and Birdie said something about already having plans for it.
What plans could Birdie have? "It can't be in the house," Bobby announced, standing in the middle of the room.
"Why do you say that, Bobby?" Sam asked, turning rather dull eyes on him. Sam hadn't really looked like himself since Bobby came back. Well, nasty blows to the head could do that.
"The black opal would negate all the charms and wards Marty and Birdie have on the house." He frowned, concentrating. "But if they used it as barrier, so things couldn't get inside the house…"
"Then it's not working," Dean interrupted. "The imp already locked Sam in the steam room."
"Last resort," George said suddenly. His face lit up. "I know where it is!" George bolted from the room.
Bobby motioned to the Winchester boys to follow, intending to bring up the rear. Neither of them bothered to argue with him, which was a little odd. Guess it showed how beat those boys were. He noticed Sam giving Dean a look that might be called sympathetic. Dean responded with an expression that could be called anything but sympathetic. Sam pushed on Dean's shoulder, nodded at George's back. Dean rolled his head before nodding. Bobby hated watching these silent conversations. If he could at least follow half of it he wouldn't mind so much. Dean and Sam were actually worse than Reid and Mike, he realized. If Reid and Mike were still partners in ten years, they might approach the level of wordless conversation of the brothers. Or not.