Hi everybody! I wish you a happy new year, may your next 365 days be stuffed with everything that makes life so exciting and valuable!

Chapter 09

This was getting old. The whole fiddling and fidgeting and kneading of notebooks, papers, pens, as if he were some nervous wreck.

Maybe he was.

With a sigh Sam shoved the documents across the table, a few of them legit, the rest research, empty pages, the instruction manual of the motel television to let the pile of documents appear thicker. He looked around in the huge meeting room, unconsciously searching for the guy he had seen the first time he had waited here, who had cried his heart out over something. But there were only a few other patients he hadn't seen before, sputtering in excitement or talking quietly to their relatives, friends or whoever visited them.

Sam felt awfully misplaced sitting here in a suit, a briefcase at his feet. He started to fidget again, this time with his fingers, clenching and unclenching his jaw in a steady rhythm, keeping an eye on the double-door separating the cell block from the rest of the sane world.

Oh, he was still pissed. There was a huge bone to pick with his brother, dinosaur size. But when Dean was finally brought in Sam was reminded of the fact that being held in here might be punishment enough.

His brother was still pale, maybe even one or two shades paler then the last time and wore some unflattering circles under his eyes, darker and deeper then Sam had ever seen. And if he didn't knew better he could swear Dean had lost some weight. So either the food in here was bad, like really abysmal, because when did his brother ever refuse to eat, or something was bothering him. And Sam had his doubts that being locked away in here was the only reason.

Some common reflections in harmless looking cell windows maybe?

But it weren't the circles or the pallor or the shrunken appearance alarming Sam. It were the sparkling eyes he noticed even yards away, the way Dean scanned the room as if he expected something jumping him any second, the secret fight-and-don't-you-ever-even-consider-flight stance.

His brother was in hunter mode. And damn if this wasn't contagious, causing Sam to look around, too, eyeing the people in the room once again, searching for black eyes, flickering lights, anything worth to make his hair stand up.

"30 minutes", the orderly rumbled and nodded at the empty chair at Sam's table which Dean gratefully occupied. He watched the orderly step back, making sure he was out of earshot before he met Sam's gaze.

"Tell me you have a plan, Sam", he began, "Come on, make my day."

Sam took another good, now closer look at his sibling, noticing the tension that radiated off Dean.

"I have a plan", he replied and smiled at Dean who briefly closed his eyes an exhaled in relief.

Taking a deep breath, Sam leaned forward as far as he could without looking awkward. "The Great Escape. We're going to relocate you to a facility in New York. On your way up there you are going to disappear."

Dean looked at him, the words sinking in, and frowned. "Okay, now I'm curious. Didn't you already try to relocate me?"

"Yeah, but that was just me, the small, unimportant shrink of Dean Rodgers. This time my big boss himself will call Salinger and instruct the relocation."

A big, knowing smirk appeared on Dean's face. "Singer vs. Salinger. How I'd love to hear that conversation."

Sam returned the smile, although half-heartedly.

He had wished for a better plan. More legal. Well, as if anything was legal these days with them, but anyway. This idea had taken a seat somewhere in his brain right from the start, like a spectator watching other ideas popping up only to get wiped away again. And when Bobby had called last night, presenting the exact same idea, it was a done deal.

It was risky and it was everything but bulletproof. There was no guarantee that Salinger would be taken that easy, for all Sam knew the doc would fight tooth and nail to keep Dean here. He himself wasn't sure if he was be able to forge a relocation warrant in such a perfect way and even if they came that far, even if they managed to get Dean into a van out of here, there was still the 'escape' part.

"When?" Dean's question ripped Sam from his musings.

"Uh…I can't say. Bobby's working on his script, as you might call it, and then we'll see."

"Sam…"

"I know, I know, we're working on it as fast as we can, okay?"

Dean nodded and ran a tired hand over his face, puffing out a heavy sigh. He looked so fragile in this very moment, Sam was about to wrap him into a carpet and carry him out.

"I think there's a demon in here", Dean suddenly blurted out, holding Sam's gaze as not to miss his little brother's reaction, "he knows me, knows where I've been."

An electrical jolt ran through Sam. So that was all the caution about. How the hell did those black-eyed assholes always seem to know where to find them? They had charms, they even had an angel hovering over their heads...well, Dean had, at least..and still they couldn't get rid of that fiendish mob.

"Where?" he growled, "Who?"

Dean shook his head, "No one you know. Another inmate, a kid. Gives me the evil eye every time I set foot in the cafeteria. Yesterday he talked to me, said something about that it's a good thing that I'm here and all the people in hell can rest. That up here they can take vengeance for them."

Sam frowned, considered what he had just heard.

"Did you see his eyes?" he asked.

"What?"

"His eyes. Where they black?"

Dean pulled his head back. "What, you don't believe me? You think I can't smell those suckers a mile off?"

Sighing, Sam held up a placating hand, "That's not what I mean. It's just...why would a demon say something like that? This makes no sense."

"Whatever", Dean shrugged, "One thing's for sure, I can't kill him, not in here. I could try an exorcism, but I don't think I could finish it."

"Could you talk to him in private? Snatch him and tie him to your bedpost so you have the time to exorcise him?"

The expression on Dean's face screamed 'You must be joking' into Sam's direction. "With what, Sam? Dust bunnies? You noticed that I don't even own shoe laces, how am I suppose to tie the son of bitch anywhere?"

Sam nodded, racking his brain. "What about safety arrangements? Keep the thing off?"

"First, how do I lay my hands on salt, holy water, chalk or paint? And secondly, the moment I draw salt lines around my cot or doodle sigils on my cell floor they're going to think I'm crazy."

"They already do, remember?"

"Shut up."

The brothers lapsed into silence. Dean was right, if he'd adopt all the measures to keep him demon-safe they sure as hell would fine-tune him on all the colorful drugs they had in their arsenal. On the other hand, he had nothing to lose, right?

"I'm going to keep my eyes open", Sam finally said, not sure how he was supposed to do so, but certain to do his utmost to keep Dean safe, "you try to get the stuff you need and make that cell of yours demon proof. Ask that male nurse, what was his name? Phillip? I'm sure he'll get you what you need. It doesn't matter if they think you've lost your marbles, you're out of here in less then a week, driving the Impala and killing baddies." He searched for any reaction to that promising outlook on Dean's face, slightly disappointed when all he got was a nod.

"Yeah, okay", his brother replied, a slight trace of resignation resonating in his tone. Sam wanted to yank his brother up at his collar, wanted to shake him, wanted to yell at him in his best John Winchester fashion to men-the-fuck-up, to kick that demon's ass like he had been taught, like he always had.

Like he had before he had died and been dragged to hell.

"Dean?" Sam began, not willing to leave this room without talking about the incident yesterday, needing to hear what had freaked his brother out. "Anything else bothering you?" Soft line approach. Sometimes it worked.

Dean met his gaze, and for a tiny second Sam was sure his brother would spill his guts.

"No...well, maybe. Listen…uh…", Dean cleared his throat, "I need you to do some research for me, can you do that?"

Once again Sam frowned. "What for?"

"You know the old train station? I think we passed it when we came here. I think there's something going on there, a vengeful spirit maybe."

Okay, maybe no gut spilling

"You think there's something going on there?" Sam repeated in disbelief, almost barking out a laugh. Let it be up to his big pig-headed brother to save the earth while he himself was rotting in a mental facility.

"It's Phillip", Dean continued unperturbed, "he moved in there yesterday and I'm 100 per cent sure he met something last night. From what he told me it sounds like a spirit, noises, cold spots... and I've never seen him that spooked before."

Sam could only gape at Dean. The jerk was kidding, right?

"Because you know each other so well", he teased, his incomprehension over Dean's trains of thought letting his blood boil.

Dean paused and narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong, Sam?", he queried suspiciously, "Since when do we ignore it when other people's lives are at stake?"

"You know, sometimes our own lives are important, too", Sam spat back, but keeping the volume down, "and right now I don't quite care if there's some spirit up to trouble somewhere, don't you think we got other problems right now?"

"I know very well what kind of problems we have right now, believe me, I do."

"Oh yeah? Wanna share? Let's talk about those problems, shall we? How about: 'Doctor, doctor, I see things in windows that freak me out that much I tend to turn into a pillar of salt. And then I lie straight into my brother's worried face about it, tell him there's nothing there.'"

So much for soft line approach.

Sam knew that was low, he knew he was pushing all the right buttons, all together with both hands. But right now he couldn't care less. He prepared himself for an inevitable blow that was sure to come when he watched all emotions drain from his brother's face, when the familiar green eyes turned into a vicious glare, when full lips slimmed to a thin line. The muscles in Dean's jaw jumped menacingly.

There would be no blow coming. Couldn't be, because Dean knew what was on the line. Pummeling on your shrink sure wasn't a very wise move right now.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Dean growled and it was so low, so threatening, it would have given Sam the creeps if he weren't so angry himself at the moment.

Sam held Dean's icy stare with and equally icy one. "Are you going to talk to me or not?" he asked. Also low. Also threatening.

It took another two seconds before Dean stood abruptly, pushing the chair backwards with the back of his knees with so much force it almost fell over. The screeching of the chair legs on the flor boomed through the hall-like room like thunder, causing the few other people to pause their talking, the soft murmurs that had accompanied them the whole time suddenly breaking off.

"Fine", Dean spoke up, his face a stony mask of anger.

They still stared at each other, Dean looking down on Sam now, a rare thing the youngest Winchester thought stupidly. The orderly stepped up behind Dean, his posture showing clearly that he was ready for whatever was there to do, his eyes darting from him to his brother in a mixture of distrust and confusion.

"Everything alright? You have still 10 minutes left..." he stated but was interrupted by his prisoner.

"We're done here, thanks", Dean assured him, a fake smile cracking his hardened features up when he turned to look at the sturdy man, fading again when his eyes met Sam's once more.

Sam wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to let Dean go like this, didn't want to part with both of them sitting on huge explosive piles of things left unsaid. But he didn't want to cave in either, he wasn't Dean's geeky research boy, not anymore, and he didn't want to split his attention to a wild goose chase. Just because of a hunch. Just because some nurse working here, bringing Dean the pills, hadn't slept so well in his new bedroom.

He wanted Dean out of here. And he wanted to know what had bothered him so much yesterday. He just wanted him safe. Why couldn't the stubborn mule understand this?

Without saying another word Dean turned on his heels, the soles of his shoes squealing on the linoleum, and headed for the exit. The orderly followed him, hesitantly at first, shooting a questioning look at Sam before he caught up with his brother, guiding him through the double doors.

Sam watched them disappear, his bottom lip a mangled mess after chewing on it in frustration. He slammed his flat hand onto the table with a gritted "Damnit!" before he ran now tingling fingers through his hair. He bit back the furious 'What?' he wanted to dash into the other people's faces who still stared at him in irritation and curiosity and decided to just smile at them, a pained one, but a smile nonetheless.

Dean was fuming. There was such a huge hurricane of rage and disappointment whirling inside of him, he wanted to punch holes into the walls, big ones, so deep that he'd be able to see what's on the other side. Or maybe break another orderly's nose while he was at it, imagine it was Sam's.

What the hell was wrong with that asshole? He hadn't asked for something impossible, had he? He hadn't ordered an african elephant playing an ukulele, hadn't asked for a giant flat-screen TV. One hour, maybe two in front of the laptop Sam occupied every night and day anyway was all he had asked for. A simple name, a simple story, a bit of research, only the affirmation of his assumption, it was everything Dean needed.

So Sam was cranky, alright. Had his panties in a twist because Dean hadn't spilled his guts out, hadn't curled up in mother Sammy's lap to whine and cry about the bad bad visions that haunted him since he was in here.

What a girl.

"Rodgers!" the orderly beside him cried, puffing and blowing , "Would you ease the hell up? This is no marathon..."

"You can take a break", Dean replied, the amusement of the orderly's bad shape halting his inner rant, "I know the way."

"Hilarious, man!"

Turning into the hallway where Dean's cell was located, the Winchester gasped in surprise when he rounded the corner and collided with another man, dressed in white, obviously in a hurry.

"Jesus, Phillip!" Dean exclaimed, recognizing the person immediately.

"This ain't no highway, people", the orderly muttered more to himself and dropped against the wall, shaking his head. Dean ignored him. His attention was on the nurse, who was clearly shaken.

"Phil? What's wrong?" he asked slowly. Alarmed. Phillip just looked at him, big eyed, mouth opening and closing before he tried to pass the Winchester.

"I need to go", he said harshly, walking on. Dean didn't hesitate and grabbed the other man's upper arm, gingerly but determined.

"Phillip, what is it?" He had the feeling he already knew.

Phillip let out a shaky sigh. "My wife's in hospital...I need to go there..."

"What happened?"

"She she fell down the stairs in our new house...well, she said someone pushed her but I don't think..."

"Who?"

"Who what?"

"Did she tell you who pushed her?"

Phillip gaped at Dean, pulling his head back. "A man", he answered irritated before he shook his head and waved a dismissively hand, "whatever, I don't think she was very accountable when she called, they gave her some heavy drugs, there's no one in our house, can't be..."

Dean's eyes darted over to the orderly who watched them from his position on the wall. He then walked a few steps away, pulling Phillip with him, whose weak protest he simply ignored.

"Dean, I have to go..."

"Listen to me, and listen to me good", Dean interrupted him, hoping his expression and tone was enough to convey the urgency of what he was about to say. When Phillip went absolutely silent and held his gaze, Dean took a deep breath.

"Okay, this is going to sound absolutely insane, but it's going to save your life, okay?"

Phillip just stared back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't go back into your house, it's dangerous..."

The nurse shook his head vigorously, "That's ridiculous, Dean..."

"Shut up and listen! If you need to go back in there make sure you have salt with you, and I mean a lot, a huge bag of it under your arm and a salt shaker in your pocket, you need to carry that one with you all the time. If someone turns up who's not supposed to turn up, you make a circle on the ground, big enough for you to stand inside of it. If you're in the bedroom and the thing's in the living room, you make a salt line at the threshold..."

"Thing? Dean, I don't..."

"Listen! Carry something made of iron with you, like, fire irons or a crow bar. If someone turns up you can defend yourself with it..."

"I have a gun in my car..."

"Forget the gun, use the iron. And the salt shaker. And don't feel safe when it's gone, it'll be back, sooner then you think, so you make a run for it the second it disappears..."

"Dean..."

"Phillip, please. I don't know if you trust me or not, but please, this is important. Trust me with this."

The nurse looked at him, thinking, assessing, and Dean could see he was biting on his bottom lip, hoped it was a sign that he indeed considered to trust his patient. When Phillip looked away, over to the orderly, Dean's panic spiked again and he was about to plea, to beg Phillip to stay away from the house, for God's sake.

"Parker, you got a crow bar in your car?"

Dean was sure his knees would give way, the relief making him almost queasy.

"Sure", Parker replied, "brand new one!"

Phillip nodded and looked back at Dean again. "I don't know what this is about", he said in a low voice, "but I trust you with this. I don't know why, but I trust you."

Dean nodded, a grateful smile on his face, "Thanks. And be careful, you hear? Careful."

With that Phillip started to jog away, "Parker, get Dean into his cell and let's meet at the entrance in five minutes!" he ordered before he vanished behind another corner, the squealing of his shoes fading.

Dean watched him go, once again ignoring Parker's muttering.

He had done everything he could, right? He had told Phillip how to defend himself against a ghost, if it were a ghost they were dealing with. Phillip was dealing with. There was nothing else he could do as long as he was in here.

Phil was on his own. But he could handle this.

So why was Dean unable to calm down?

To be continued...