Happy easter everybody!

Chapter 27

Before Dean found the motivation to open his eyes the next time, he heard a new sound right beside him. The tapping of swift fingers on a keyboard was replaced by the cosy rustling of pages being turned. Squinting against the bright sunlight illuminating the room he found Phillip occupying Sam's chair, completely absorbed in a magazine.

"If that's the 'Playboy' at least read out aloud so I have a bit of fun, too", Dean rasped, blinking the fog away from his vision.

Phillip's face lit up as he lowered the magazine and met Dean's gaze. "Who would've thought that there's actual text in the 'Playboy'", he answered cheerily and held the journal up for Dean to see. "It's 'Better Homes & Gardens'. Call me a Babbit."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "For that haunted house of yours?"

"Well, it isn't anymore, remember?" Phillip put the magazine aside and helped Dean sit up, wearing such a genuine smile on his face, it was downright creepy. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. I mean, up here..." Dean moved his hand up to his temple and made a swirling motion with his index finger, "...everything's in place, I guess. But I'm still a prisoner, and as long as that's the case I won't be really okay at all."

Phillip's smile faded and he nodded bitterly. Dean wished he would say something. Something reassuring. Something like 'Hey, good news, they don't want you back in there, so you're a free man! Get up and go!'.

"I get it that there's no way you could distract the gorillas outside so I can hobble out of here, huh?" Dean joked, albeit swallowing heavily. He knew that was too much to ask. Phillip had risked his job and much much more already once. And Dean wasn't even sure if he was able to get out of this bed in the first place, let alone walk out of here on his own.

"I'm sorry", the nurse replied softly, "they're well trained. They won't fall for something like that."

Dean shrugged, "Nevermind." So he would have to rely on Sam and Sam alone once again. Would have to trust him. Come to think of... "You don't happen to know where..."

"...your brother is?"

Dean shut his mouth with an audible click, causing Phillip to chuckle.

"Yes, Dean, we had some time to talk. I'm in the know."

"Okay. That's…well. Good. You're still here. Not over the hills and far away, I see."

"To be honest…I haven't slept for one night and my wife looks funny at me because I dragged grandmother's old silverware from the basement and keep small portions of salt with me the whole time but…" He shrugged. "At least I know what's out there now, right? What is possible. Might make my job easier."

Dean didn't know what to say. Yes, Phillip had learned the hard way that ghosts were real. And he certainly hadn't fallen from his chair in disbelief when Sam had told him about what the Winchester's did for a living, he might have had figured as much. But the nurse took all that surprisingly well.

"I sent Sam back to the motel", Phillip continued, "he didn't want to leave you at first but I promised him to stay here. And after all those days at your bedside he really needed some rest. And a shower. And a shave."

That made the Winchester smile. Typical for Sam. Mother hen through and through.

"So, I guess you're looking for an explanation, huh?" Dean asked softly, dreading the answer. Honestly, he didn't want to talk about what had happened. He couldn't wrap his head around it himself yet, how was he supposed to explain anything right now?

"I learned what your brother and you are dealing with on a regular daily base", Phillip said, "and it scared the bejesus out of me. To know that there's something…that something has happened to you terrible enough to trigger all that fear and panic and…well, caused you to do what you did…I don't think I want to know, no. And I think it's not for my ears to hear. But of course, if you feel like it, I'm here. I'm listening."

Dean felt his eyes water. Relief over Phillip's acceptance, deep gratitude for his understanding, anguish over those words that were so true. Their lives were screwed, messed up in so many ways, how they were able to move on and on like this sometimes was a miracle to him.

"No, you're right", he whispered, shaking his head, "you don't need to know everything."

Phillip nodded curtly. "Concerning that other problem…" He jerked his head towards the door. "…we'll find a way, alright?"

Dean darted his eyes from the nurse's face to the door. "Well, I'm counting on it."

A commotion outside his room interrupted Dean's brooding.

He hadn't slept the whole night and when the sun had started to crawl up from the horizon, drenching his room in a cold bright light, he had settled for watching the tree in front of his window, had tried to void his brain from everything. At some point he had tried to get up, had tried to set a foot on the floor and straighten to his full height but had given up the task after his vision had turned black and a wave of nausea had forced him to lay back down again.

The typical noises of the hospital coming to life had erupted from the hallway at some time. The clanking of dishes and trays containing breakfast, the squealing of the nurse's shoes on the floors, their hushed voices. The smell of fresh coffee had started to waft through the air.

Dean watched his closed room door intently, trying to identify the people obviously standing right in front of it, having a heated discussion. He recognized doctor Ollis, his tone surprisingly demanding and sharp. The other sounded like Griffin. Equally sharp.

Just as Dean pondered over yelling at them to just open the freakin' door and step in already, they did, Griffin in the lead. At the sight of his bandaged nose the corner of Dean's mouth twitched in an attempt to grin.

"This is absolutely ridiculous", doctor Ollis spat, marching behind the huge orderly, "Dean's still not well enough to be in your hands. I'd prefer to release him when I think it's wise to do so, and not when your doctor Salinger's bored and needs his patient back to continue messing around with him."

The small smile on Dean's face froze.

Oh no. No way.

"You talked to him on the phone, right, doctor?" Griffin asked, raising his eyebrows, "You heard the man, he wants Dean to be transferred back to Lake Okeechobee ASAP."

"Yes, I talked to him and I already told him what I think about this…"

"Well, it's his patient, which makes him the boss, so I have to ask you politely to prepare Dean for the hospital release."

"Hey!" Dean's angry outcry stopped both men short and they turned towards him for the first time since they had entered the room. Shifting on the bed to appear at least a bit bigger, he glared at Griffin. "How about you stop talking about me as if I were far away and not right beside you, huh?"

Griffin tilted his head to the side. "As if you had a say in this matter."

"I'm sorry, I haven't noticed waking up on a cattle market."

"Gentleman", doctor Ollis stepped forward, holding his hands up in a soothing manner. He let out a sigh and addressed Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean, I wanted to keep you here for a few days longer. You're not strong enough yet. But unfortunately Mr Griffin here is right. If your condition isn't life threatening anymore, which is the case, doctor Salinger is allowed to move you back to the mental facility whenever he wants."

Dean's mind was reeling. Ollis' words echoed in his head, suffocating every reasonable thought.

"Sam", he whispered, swallowing heavily before he looked up at Ollis again, "I want to talk to Sam...my br...doctor Larsson, where is he?"

"Don't worry, he's outside", Griffin replied smugly, "We grabbed him on his way to you and asked him to sign the forms so you can be discharged."

"DAMA, I might add", Ollis mumbled sourly and crossed his arms in defiance.

"He what?" Dean exclaimed, eyes widening. Why the heck was Sam doing that? Why would his brother support this plan so willingly?

Nu-Uh. He wouldn't go back. No. Never.

Struggling to get out of bed, Dean shook his head frantically. "No. Leave me alone. All of you. I won't come with you."

"Dean", doctor Ollis approached him, trying to hinder the Winchester from getting up, "easy, you have to take it easy, you can't just get up like this, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"Get away from me." Dean didn't think about taking anything easy. They wouldn't get him gift-wrapped. As long as he could move, he would fight them with everything he had in him.

Which wasn't very much, apparently.

His bare feet touched the cold floor and he tried to straighten, bracing himself with his hands on the bed which was now the only barricade between him and the two men. Again, his vision wavered and he sucked in precious air through his mouth to keep his churning stomach in check.

"You're going to tear out the catheter, Dean, calm down", Ollis tried again, his voice calm and dominant, hands up in a placating manner.

A handy hint, Dean realized as he looked down at himself. He could take out the needle from the top of his hand, no problem. But there was no chance he was able to pull the catheter out on his own. Not if he wanted to walk out of here after that.

He was cornered. There was no way out. The gleeful grin on Griffin's face confirmed it, too.

God, he was screwed.

"Dean!"

The older Winchester flinched at his name being called. Jerking his head towards the door, regretting it immediately when the room spun, he met Sam's eyes.

"Sam..."

"Calm down, okay", Sam soothed, striding into the room like a man on a mission, walking past doctor Ollis and Griffin right up to him, "I got it, it's alright."

"How can you say that?" Dean hissed, "They're going to drag me back, Sam, how am I supposed to stay calm?" He winced when his voice pitched higher to an almost shriek.

Grabbing Dean's shoulders Sam ducked his head to keep eye contact. "I tell you, it's okay, let them do whatever it takes, don't fight."

"No", Dean disagreed, not stifling the shrieking tone this time and shaking off Sam's hands vigorously. He stepped back, stopping immediately when an uncomfortable pull a few inches below reminded him of the thing that had spent the last few days with him.

"You know what, sort this out", Griffin spoke up, "I'm going to get a wheelchair. Did you sign the papers?"

Sam didn't turn to face the orderly, his gaze staying glued to his brother. "Done."

Dean was getting desperate. What kind of game was this? If this was a plan, he couldn't figure out where it was leading.

"Sam, no...why are you doing that?" he asked shakily, sounding so small thanks to the confusion, the damn fear and the growing difficulties to stay upright. So his body was selling him out, too. Fuck, there was no relying on anything these days.

When his knees buckled, Sam was there. Had rounded the hospital bed so fast Dean was sure he had learned that trick from Cas, warping space or something. His little brother caught him and steered him back to the bed, helping him to sit down onto the edge of it.

"Sammy..."

"Do you trust me, Dean?"

That caught the other man in surprise. "What? Why..."

"Do. You. Trust. Me?" Sam was looking at him, dead serious. But in between the determination and the hardship mirroring in his eyes, there was much more. There was desperation. There was an entreaty.

Please. Trust me. Let me fix this.

Dean blinked. Once. Twice. Did he trust Sam? He had told him hours ago that he didn't. Had told Sam that he had a hard time trusting him lately. So what now? Caught in a situation that smelled really rotten, with Griffin on his ass, ready and willing to ship him back into the clutches of Frankenstein and Mister Hyde as soon as possible. With Sam who had just signed the free ticket to the ride back there, obviously voluntarily.

"Sam..."

"I know it's a lot to ask", Sam was almost begging now, "but...please. It's okay."

Dean's eyes darted to the door where Griffin walked in, pushing a wheelchair. Then to doctor Ollis who looked like a sullen little boy who had just earned himself a ban on watching TV. When he looked back at Sam, his shoulders slumped.

"Okay", Dean whispered, feeling a lump forming in his throat. What was he supposed to do anyway? He wouldn't stay here, no matter what. Griffin surely had a syringe in his pocket, containing something nice and calming, eager to ram it into Dean's body the moment the Winchester would fight back. Maybe Sam saw clearer. Had indeed a plan Dean just couldn't figure out at the moment.

Yes, he trusted his sibling. With his life. There were a few dents in his trust but he had never stopped trusting him altogether.

Sam squeezed Dean's shoulders, a small smile appearing on his lips. "I'll wait outside for you." Then Dean watched him straighten, his features harden. The game face was back on.

Under normal circumstances Dean would have thrown expletives around, would have grumbled and scolded at everyone that had the nerve to look at him funny while being pushed around in a freakin' wheelchair.

Right now he wasn't in the mood. He was nervous, he was tense, he felt terrible. He had made a mental note to himself to carry a sign reading 'No catheter, at any time' from now on. The giant, Abominable Snowman was walking behind him, puffing and blowing onto his head, a true miracle given the fact that his nose was wrapped up so tight. Sam was beside him, don't saying a word. He looked relaxed, in charge, but Dean knew it was facade. The tension radiated off of him in waves, vibrations Dean had learned to distinguish over the years and was sure Sam felt coming from his older brother right now as well.

Doctor Ollis hadn't grown tired of telling Griffin and Sam about his thoughts concerning Dean's transfer to Lake Okeechobee. Griffin had replied with a mixture of ignorance and anger, while Sam had apologized and promised to look after 'patient Rodgers'. Dean had remained silent, had fought the urge to struggle out of the chair and run away, or maybe just head-butt Griffin's bandaged nose to see if he might feel better afterwards.

The trio crossed the hospital lobby and headed towards the exit. Through the giant double doors Dean recognized Phillip standing outside, leaning against an ambulance parked in front of the building.

"An ambulance?" he rasped towards Griffin, "What, a normal car wouldn't have done the trick? I mean, I'm healthy enough to get out of here but too sick to drive in a normal freakin' car?"

"Regulations", came the curt answer from behind him, "stop bitching."

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering a 'You got to be kidding me' before he ran a shaky hand over his face. When the double doors opened he had to squint against the bright sunlight. A beautiful day. Well, not for him, that much was sure.

The ambulance's back doors were already open and Griffin stopped the wheelchair right before Phillip's feet.

"Hop right in, princess!" the orderly cheered and took a mock bow.

Dean shot daggers at the man. Oh, if he'd be only in the mood right now, he would rip the guy to shreds.

"That wasn't necessary, Griffin, you can cut it out", Phillip admonished and held a hand out to the older Winchester – a hand Dean ignored deliberately. Not only did it suck that Phillip fought his fights for him, even if it were only the verbal ones, but treating him like an invalid was by far more he could take right now.

"I got it, thank you", Dean growled, getting out of the chair and setting his sights on the van's interior. The fact that it was Sam who caught him once again when his legs gave way a second time today was enough to let tears of frustration well in his eyes.

"Come on, take it easy. Just lay down, okay", Sam said softly, steering him right towards the gurney waiting for him in the ambulance. When Dean finally lay on the soft mattress, he closed his eyes, trying to block out everything.

He didn't want to hear Sam's voice anymore, telling him that it was okay, wrapping him into reassurances and soothing words. He didn't want Phillip's hands on him, groping and patting. He was done having Griffin around, smelling the guy's aura of cheap after shave and sweat. Dean wanted to get up an run away. But he couldn't. He wanted to lash out, no matter who he might hit, it would be the right person, he was sure of it. But he couldn't. It would lead him to nowhere. Besides, he felt his wrists being strapped down once again, probably those ugly leather belts. Whatever. He had to trust Sam, right? Everything would be okay.

My ass.

Dean concentrated on the sounds surrounding him. Sam didn't make any, he knew because his brother was sitting to his left. To his right was a soft rustling, obviously Phillip's jacket which had a rather plasticky quality. Locating Griffin was easy as always, everything the guy did was loud and massive. When he climbed into the back of the ambulance the whole vehicle dipped slightly backwards, the rear axle creaking angrily.

Simultaneously with the closing of the van's back doors, which startled Dean and almost caused him to jump up from his gurney, Phillip knocked against the wall separating the rear from the cab, obviously the sign for the driver to get going.

Now would be a good time to put your secret plan into action, little brother.

While the vehicle began to move, Dean racked his brain trying to think of something Sam might be up to. And did Phillip know about that magnificent plan? Phil had told him that he and Sam had had time to talk. Little brother had let Phillip in on their family business, which meant the nurse was still on their side, right? Or was Phillip the same bastard in Sam's books like Salinger, Rosenberg and Griffin? Griffin. They would need to get him out of the way first.

Unless he was on their side as well.

Nah. Not really.

So what would he do? If he needed an escape plan, what would he come up with? Knock Griffin out. Knock the driver out. Take the ambulance and haul ass. Crap, where the heck was his car? He could only hope Sam had her at the motel or somewhere safe, because if that was their way out, they'd need to change cars fast.

And Phillip? Knock him out, too, to simulate a proper getaway. To avoid people getting suspicious about the nurse. Yeah, that's what he would do. But the way it looked, or better, it sounded, Sam had no intentions to knock anyone out right now. He hadn't moved, hadn't said a word since their departure.

Dean felt the ambulance slow down, recognized a change of the road surface. Smooth tarmac turned to gravel. When he heard Griffin mumble an irritated 'What the heck...' Dean blinked his eyes open and looked over to the orderly, who roamed the cramped space they all were stuck in like a nervous tiger.

A scrutinizing look at Phillip and Sam told Dean that the two either had no clue as well or were damn good actors. When Griffin rushed towards him, bent-forward due to the low ceiling and wearing the expression of a pissed off bull, Dean unconsciously drew back, relieved when the gorilla didn't regard him and pounded against the cab wall instead.

"Hey, what's up? Why are we stopping?"

"Something's wrong with the brakes", came the muffled answer from the other side if the thin wall.

And holy fucking crap, did Dean knew that voice.

To be continued...

A/N: I'm sure this chapter's cliffie isn't really one ;-)