Garth tossed back and downed his fifth shot of…Sherry. He savored the last drop and plopped his glass down. The bartender might giggle whenever he cast a glance Garth's way, but he didn't understand why Garth needed the calming influence of alcohol. No one could possibly understand.
Sam Winchester was in Lemay, not tucked up in Kansas where he was supposed to be. And he was pissed. At Garth. Because he wanted his brother and Garth couldn't produce him.
Dean Winchester was sitting naked in the ER.
And Garth…..well Garth was busy trying to come up with a solution that didn't end with him joining Dean in the ER, in traction, with a tube up his dick, drinking his meals through a straw. He wasn't completely sure, but he was quite sure, a person drank their meals through a straw when their jaw was wired shut, from being broken, by a fist, the size of a ham...
It hadn't hit Garth until after he'd hung up that Dean had left the ER the same time Garth had, and that'd been hours ago. That realization was what made him give up his fruity cocktails and order a bottle of the hard stuff. What the hell was Dean doing back in the ER?
What was an accomplished hunter to do? Go willingly to his torture at the hands of a pissed-off giant, that's what. He pushed back from the table, tipped his hat at the giggling bartender and strode from the bar with a swagger that many a woman would be proud to flounce.
Hang on Dean, I'm coming. I'll get you out of the ER and back to your brother before Cyclone Sammy destroys the ER, the hospital, and the whole damn town tearing it apart looking for you.
He couldn't, wouldn't leave either brother. Being the sibling of the man who bore the title, 'Super Sam the Researcher' simply wasn't enough. Dean needed to know more about what Garth had found out about the talisman Casper the Ghost had had in its possession.
***000***
The doctor folded his hands and let them dangle as he considered the best way to handle the….ehrm, man who he just knew was going to be obstinate, the man who was his most perplexing patient. Dean Smith. Yeah, right, might as well use the name John Doe.
The doctor silently admitted defeat. He was never going to know who this man was, what had happened to him or make him understand leaving the hospital would be detrimental to his very health. Numerous bruises, several which were severe, a recently set dislocated shoulder that was swollen and speaking of swelling – the left side of his body, from his ear to his smallest toe – swollen. Touchy elbow, tender wrist….puffy knee…..bruised hip bone. Swollen jaw, cuts and scrapes and abrasions, black left eye, split lip, and scratched cheek.
How the hell had he strolled into the ER with a how-do-you-do, have-you-seen-my-phone and insist he hadn't come for treatment?
"Yeah." the doctor snorted. "Right, sure….get up and walk out….go ahead….I dare you." he grinned at the look of startled astonishment that crossed the younger man's face as his eyebrows shot up, met in the middle then smoothed out. "I'll stand aside, right here, and watch you attempt to do it."
"Sure thing." Dean nodded. "Soon as I get dressed." he didn't recall speaking to anyone upon entering the ER the second time, yet they knew his name, knew Sam had been called after the first time Dean had passed out on the ER floor. He was really going to have to avoid that floor.
"Mind telling how you came about receiving those injuries?"
Dean sighed, pulling his attention back to the doctor awaiting answers. What injuries? Good grief, his shoulder hurt, big deal. Okay, sure…..he was probably pale, eyes might be a bit shadowed with exhaustion but come on….! Well….he frowned. Now that it had been brought to his attention….maybe his wrist ached and his foot might be throbbing and yeah, his jaw hurt, which was weird but…and oh hell, what the hell was wrong with his hip?
"Aah….yeah….." he thought back to his earlier tumble down a flight of steps. Concrete steps. He was like the toddler who fell unnoticed by his mother, got up and went right back to playing unless someone saw him fall and made a fuss, then the waterworks and screaming started. "Me and my partner…..I fell down a flight of steps. Can I go?"
He'd been so focused on his shoulder and Garth's attempts to reset it that he hadn't really paid his various other aches and pains much attention. First, he'd wanted to sleep, then he'd been preoccupied with finding his phone and calling Sam and then…Oh Shit.
Sam.
Right, Sammy was in town. And looking for him. And he'd been to the hospital once….and he sure as hell didn't need to come again.
"I can't force you to stay but I strongly recommend…" the doctor was saying.
Dean held a finger up to signal the doctor he needed a moment and thumbed Sam's number but before he could press send, the nurse popped up by his side, took the phone from his hand and offered to help him dress.
"I'll write you a prescription for pain relief."
***000***
This time Sam parked his car in the hospital parking lot. He looked for the Impala but nope, not found. He entered the hospitals main entrance doors, thinking only after he was directed to the ER that perhaps he should have parked in the visitor's lot at the ER. Oh well. What difference did it make anyway?
Had he done so, he would have seen the Impala sitting pretty under the street lamp.
Head throbbing, stomach growling, he hopped on the elevator that would take him to the ER. Of course, it just had to be on the complete opposite side of the hospital. One large palm flat against his stomach, he guessed his headache was a result of not recalling the last time he'd had something to eat. Once he had his wayward brother within his sight, he would figure out what and where to eat and when.
"Hello."
Sam glanced up through his bangs, keeping his head lowered. The elevators other occupant appeared to be a doctor and she openly perused him with an appreciative gleam in her eye.
"Let me guess." she smiled. "Either ER or cafeteria." she held a coffee cup in her hand. "You look like you should be headed to the ER but you, or rather your stomach sounds like you need a meal."
Sam couldn't help the grin that tugged up the corner of his mouth. "Uh….both actually. ER first though. Not for me….need to check on someone first then yeah, lunch sounds great."
"Dinner." she corrected with a laugh. "Same floor off the elevator. ER to the left, cafeteria to the right. If you're not long at the ER, join me for a sandwich. I'll be there for a while. Take a break whenever I get one."
"Uh….thanks...but...I don't think...no, I..." Sam shrugged. "Sorry."
The elevator stopped, the doors opened and Sam stood aside to allow ladies first then stepped out behind her.
"Dr. Dixit."
Sam froze, groaned, then cursed. Of all the shitty luck…...he bolted right.
"Dr. Miffler?" she greeted warmly. "You're still here? Long day for you."
"Oh, I was called back in. Patient in the ER.
"Not your missing medical marvel." she teased.
"No. But it pertained to him. A Dean Smith walked into the ER with his law partner who was brought in for treatment to an injured hand. Mr. Smith fainted in the ER and his emergency contact on his phone was contacted, his brother, Sam Smith. Who we now know was the patient I contacted you for a consult. Once Sam Smith arrived, he too collapsed in the ER. Somehow, at some time, one way or another, both managed to remove themselves from the hospital."
"Smith?" Helen repeated. "So, Sam...tall, mop of brown hair, white male, late twenties, slim….."
"That would be him." Dr. Miffler confirmed. "Mr. Dean Smith showed up in the ER two hours or so ago asking after his cellphone and fainted in the ER after giving his name to the girl at the information desk."
"And he's where now?" Helen asked. "Dean Smith." she clarified.
"Still in the ER. I saw him myself. He appears to have lost a boxing match with someone thrice his size."
"I see." she sounded amused. "They've been quite the pair, haven't they?" she turned back to the elevator. "I believe I may have found one." she waved a hand towards the elevator but it was empty. "Huh…..where'd he go?"
Sam scurried down the hall, around the corner, ducked behind a rack of trays and waited. When neither doctor appeared, he went back the way he'd come, past the elevator and down the hall that led to the ER.
He didn't have to ask questions, the nurses were all a twitter about the handsome man who charmed all the ladies, awaiting the return of his clothes in curtain two. He causally strode down the corridor like he knew exactly where he was going, approached curtain two, grabbed the white privacy curtain, whipped it back and roared.
He ripped the sheet off its rings and the rings from the track in the ceiling for when he pushed it aside an empty exam table save for a very familiar cellphone was revealed.
***000***
Dressed, car keys in hand, prescriptions in pocket, several samples of pain medications secreted upon his person, humped over and panting, sweat heavily lining his forehead and making his palms slick, Dean strode from the ER with as much defiant pride a man who'd been thrown down a flight of concrete steps could muster. Which meant, he stumbled and staggered and weaved and god dammit to hell, he had to cross that fucking ER floor...
Walk Dean, one foot in front of the other. Like we've practiced. Step, ow, step, ow, step, ow, right foot, oh shit, left foot, oh fuck, right foot…..uh-oh, oh-no, going down. Man, he was sure he hadn't felt like this before. He was getting old. All stiff and achy, muscles tight, joints swollen, skin bruised and taut. Oh hello floor...again, for the third time.
"Hey there dude." Garth popped up under Dean's right arm. Light and scrawny he might be but no strong gust of wind was around to knock him on his ass and the support he was able to lend Dean was enough to keep the heavier hunter upright and walking. "I've got you….come on…..car's right over there, outside….you're good, that's it...bit further is all."
"Garth?" Dean blew his breath out, leaning against the comforting solid mass of black steel that had supported him his entire life. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Askin' you the same dude." Garth let him go and reached around him to open the passenger door of the Impala. "Easy goin' down...watch your head...easy...easy...that's it, you good?"
"My phone….." he slurred. Well, that wasn't right…why was his tongue so thick? He stuck it out, crossed his eyes, wiggled it about but failed to make it visible. "Left…my….cell...here...in there." he plunked himself deeper down on the leather seat but didn't swing his feet in. "Gotta…call Sammy…."
"Sure…..sure….gimme your phone….I'll call him while you catch your breath." Garth opened the passenger back door and rooted around the collection of…..stuff on the back seat and in the foot well. "You got a towel or something? Oh…here…" he held a discarded t-shirt to his nose and took a whiff, clean enough. "Here, wipe your face…gimme your phone."
Dean patted his pocket, then his other. He laid back, bumping his head on the steering wheel and growled. He patted the front pockets of his jeans, squirmed his ass about, feeling for the familiar lump…..
"Aww FUCK!" he exploded, punching the back of the seat. "Musta left it inside."
"Okay, ok. No worries, we're good..." Garth hastened to reassure him. "Here, call him on mine…..feeling better yet?"
He was feeling bad? Dean frowned, struggling to clear the foggy cobwebs from his head. Now, let's see…..ok, pretty sure the doctor had given him a shot in the ass, well hip…he blew his breath out in an aggravated huff. Ass or hip, did it matter? Probably not a good thing on top of all that ibuprofen and cheap whiskey. He pulled a pout...ooohh Sam was going to have a squalling, bawling full-grown cow when he found that out. And find out he would...he always found out everything! Couldn't keep a secret from him, no sirreee!
"Dean." Garth was calling repeatedly.
"Sam...ER...wants him...he...they're...looking for him."
"Here, it's water." Garth uncapped the bottle and handed it to Dean who sat up to take it. "Okay, sit tight….he's not answering….let me send him a text then I'll go in and get your phone." he waited but Dean sat and stared stupidly at the bottle in his hand as though he had no idea what it was or what he was supposed to do with it. "Drink it." Garth ordered with a chuckle. "Man….what'd they give you? You're loopy-de-looped."
"Good, good, I'm good." Dean sang. "I'm goo-goo-gooey-good."
"Okay, ok, good. Drink. Stay." he motioned a sitting position with his hands, patting Dean on his head when Dean slumped against the seat and pulled his feet into the car. "Good boy, stay in the car, ok? I'll be right back."
Satisfied Dean would stay put, Garth strolled into the ER. He paused inside the door, trying to decide how best to go about asking after or locating the phone when the overhead speaker cackled for security to report immediately to the ER followed by a request for an orderly to respond to curtain two, stat.
"SOMEONE HAD BETTER TELL ME WHERE MY BROTHER IS RIGHT NOW!" followed with. "….most inefficient…..poorly organized…ill-staffed, incompetent ER….been in! How the HELL…MANY TIMES...lose the same person?!"
"Uh-oh." Garth knew that voice. He didn't hear every word but he understood Sam was on the warpath. He squared his shoulders, sucked in his breath, threw his chest out, and like he was leading a cavalry charging into battle, strode forward. "Now see here…." he waddled his way past a cluster of three doctors and two nurses but went ignored. "Oh, oh…oh this is not good."
A chorus of different voices, both male and female babbled over one another as they spoke to or attempted to reason with a defiant Sam Winchester, who was demanding his brother be produced or he would tear the hospital apart curtain by curtain and no one had better stand in his way.
"Sam…..Sam…Sammmmmm!" Garth remained unnoticed. Unable to make himself heard over the chaos, he clapped his hands, he whistled, he banged medical instruments together, he stomped his feet….he kicked a stool on wheels across the floor. "AAAEEEAAHHHH!" he let loose an ear-splitting whoop, backed up several steps, and with a running leap, charged full steam ahead. He threw himself at Sam, arms outstretched in a quarterback sack to tackle Sam to the floor.
He bounced. Off a brick wall. Also known as, Sam's chest. And landed so hard on his ass, his teeth clacked. He stared up in bewilderment at Sam who, not even knocked off balance, reached out for him with his fists.
"Escapee from psyche!" someone yelled and received a response asking if a straightjacket was required.
"What the hell are you doing Garth?" Sam demanded with a huff and roll of his eyes. He so didn't need this now. Not when the doctor was attempting to talk him into admitting himself and allowing surgeons to examine him. No one was answering any of his questions regarding his brother. Hell, they acted like they had no idea what he was talking about or who and apparently no one on staff was aware of a nurse with the name Marlene Painter.
Okay, yes, as someone had suggested, perhaps he did have the name wrong, who knew, who cared. Someone from this hospital had called him and they'd better produce his brother, or else.
"Sam…Sam….hey there big guy…whoa…come on now….." Garth held his hands up. "Easy there…"
"I'll rephrase that, what the fuck are YOU doing here?"
"I'm…." Garth began but two huge hands lodged under his arm pits and he was lifted off his ass but not put on his feet as he expected. He was held, feet off the floor, eye level with Sam who, with murder in his eyes, shook him until he yelped. "RESCUING YOU! I'm rescuing you!"
"Put him down this instance!" someone ordered.
Garth gulped, feet kicking as his mind whirled. How was he supposed to get them out of this? "Yes…yes….aah, yes. Grand idea. Put me down." he nodded vigorously. "You don't want to hurt me."
"Oh. Yes. I. Do." Sam spit out.
"No, no, no…no you don't." he stopped kicking, and with his head beckoned Sam to bring him closer. Sam didn't budge, didn't blink. "The hard way it is." Garth took a breath, grabbed Sam's left ear, yanked and butted heads with Sam .
Sam howled in outrage, dropping Garth to clutch at his ear and his nose. An orderly, straightjacket in hand, hung back, unsure who to grab and wrestle into the restraints. He watched dumbfounded when Garth, now on his feet, squawking about being tied into knots and not wanting to be a pretzel, fled from the room. Sam, promising hot nails would be driven through his toes, on his heels.
"Sam….Sam….Dean's outside…. I left him in the car….come on…you can kill me later…..let's just get out of here." Garth panted when the back of his jacket was bunched up and he was jerked backwards off his feet into Sam's grasp. "See….come on…..I sent you a text….honest…I came in after his phone…..see….see…" he tried to run but he was a cartoon character, feet running on the floor but running in place for Sam effortlessly held him with one hand. "Sam….see…come on…..they're coming after us…Dean's right outside…..honest….come on!"
Sam let him go and pushed him ahead as they burst out the ER doors, down the sidewalk….across the parking lot to a parking spot that contained only an empty water bottle.
()()()()
Dean gulped from the bottle until it was empty then dropped it and closed the door….with his right hand. He held the offending appendage in front of his face and struggled to recognize it. Oh, right….right hand, huh, weird. What was he doing over here in Sammy's seat? He slanted a look to his left…he belonged over there.
First one foot, then the other, slide his ass…ow….across the seat….ow….hip hurt, foot hurt, arm hurt….elbow didn't want to bend, shoulder didn't want to move, arm refused to straighten out…fingers wouldn't curl…..ass cheek stung…ooooh right…..freaking doctor and his freaking needle…alrighty-roo…he patted the dashboard over the steering column…...now this seat fit his ass. This is where he belonged.
Ok, steering wheel, brake pedal, gas pedal…..right arm obeying all commands, that was good…..keys…..keys…did he have keys? Not sure he could hotwire….whoop….there they were…ignition….ooooh, just listen to that purr…okay Baby, let's go find us a wayward brother who isn't where the hell he's supposed to be.
***000***
Garth gulped. He put his hands out in front of him and began backing away, one step at a time. He didn't want to make any quick or rash movements and startle Sam.
"He was right there Sam. RIGHT THERE! The car, the Impala, both were right there."
"Do you see him?" Sam asked eerily. "You know Garth, I might have a headache and I can't recall the last time I had something to eat and my eyesight ain't so good these days so maybe, just maybe, I might miss spotting my brother were he, you know, a distance away from me, but there's no fucking way I would miss a 200+ inch long, 3500 lb CAR Garth!" he ended in a roar. "I'M GOING TO END YOU!"
"No! No, no, no, no…nononononononono!" he hopped and danced, arms flapping in such a flamboyant display that Sam was struck immobile. "Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam." he chanted, dancing and bobbing. "No Sam, Sam no. No Sam, no Sam, no Sam….."
"ENOUGH!" Sam shook his head, snapping the image of Garth's head on the body of a chicken from his mind. "Where IS he Garth?!"
"I don't know!" he threw his hands up. "I don't! Honest Sam, I left him right here!" he gestured wildly. "Right here!"
Sam crossed his arms over this chest and stared Garth down. "You left him, right here?"
"Yes!" Garth nodded. "In the car…"
"Where did he go?"
Garth thought about it, head tilted in concentration. "Well…" a calm Sam was a good thing, wasn't it? "Maybe…he drove…." crap, wrong thing to say.
"Drove? He DROVE?! You let him have the keys?!"
"What? No!"
"I doubt he was in any condition to hot wire it."
"But….no! I left him in the passenger seat! He couldn't have driven away!"
"Oh. So you don't think he could have just slid across the seat and drove off?!
"No, no….he didn't…I mean, how could he have? He could barely walk! There's no way he could drive…not in his condition."
"And what condition would that be Garth? He dislocated his shoulder. He can handle that kind of pain."
"Well, sure…sure he can." Garth agreed. "It's just….."
"It's just what Garth?"
"Well….no…..but…..well see….maybe, I guess…." he began backing away as Sam stalked him.
"Is he hurt?" Sam asked. "Garth?"
"Well, I didn't think so. He didn't say anything but you know….maybe….the steps….."
"What steps?"
"The flight he fell down."
"The…..the…the flight?! Fuck me Garth, you told me he dislocated his shoulder falling down the steps."
"He DID!"
"You do know that most people differentiate steps from stairs, don't you? Steps are one or two, at most maybe five. It isn't a flight of steps, it's a flight of stairs…now what the hell did he fall down?"
"Stairs! A flight of stairs! Okay, ok, I'm sorry! Sam….Sam….what are you doing? Hey, no….don't! I break easily, I assure you! Sammmmm….."
"Shall we see if you bounce?" Sam threatened. "Did he fall or was he thrown?"
Garth didn't see a difference but Sam obviously did. "Aah, he…..the spirit…..it….."
"Thrown then." Sam growled. "And you left him alone? What the hell is the matter with you?" his hands pushed through hair, holding his bangs back. "Did he at least break his fall on the railing?"
"AAh, no…there wasn't a railing. Well, there was but it was in the wall….more of a hand rail….what? Why are you looking at me like that? Sam…..Sam…"
"Concrete? The flight of stairs was concrete?"
"Yeah, yes….does that matter? I mean…..he got up and walked away Sam. Other than his shoulder…he was ok!"
"And you know that how? Did you ask him? Did you check him over?"
"Because he said he was fine!"
"He's an ASS Garth! A lying jerk who wouldn't admit he was hurt if his bone was sticking through his skin!"
"Oh."
"When I have time, I'm going to kill you." Sam vowed. "Slowly and painfully."
"We have to find him." Garth said suddenly, voice small. "The doctor, aah, gave him something for the pain…he was pretty loopy when I left him to…."
"Yeah, when you left him." Sam sneered. "Again….you're good at that, aren't you?" he thumbed his eyelids closed. "How do you suggest we find him Garth?"
"Well, huh…..Oh." he brightened. "He probably went back to the motel. My car's right there, I'll drive." Garth smacked his palms together. "….you….you, well you….you be you and…..emote."
"And you think he can find the motel?"
"Sure, sure…he knows where it is….."
"Just let me grab my bag from my car….I can leave it here."
"Borrowed huh?"
Sam walked away, slowing when he realized he was parked on the other side of the hospital. He could either walk around the building or have Garth drive him.
"SAM! Where are you going? My car's right there…..Sam? Hey, Sam."
Sam walked to his car.
***000***
Garth pulled into the motel parking lot. He was tense, a tension headache making his neck stiff and his eyes burn. Course, the strain on his eyes undoubtedly came from keeping one eye on the road and the other on Sam during the drive to the motel.
Neither said anything. The car idled in front of the motel room, where no sleek black car was parked.
"What do you have to say for yourself now?" Sam managed to say. Inwardly, he exploded. Emotion pinged throughout him and he teetered on panic, frantic long behind him.
Garth couldn't find a word to speak. And it wasn't because he was scared of Sam or intimidated into silence. It was because he was genuinely worried.
"I'll call…." Garth began.
"Call who? The police?"
"Maybe he broke down or…"
"In the Impala?" Sam snorted. "I can't go back to that hospital Garth. If he's….if there's been..an….accid…"
"My PHONE!" Garth squealed, hands flapping as he frantically felt himself up. "My phone….Sam…my phone…I gave it to him to call….while I went to get his."
Sam pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat. No missed calls, no voice mails, no texts from Garth's phone.
"Is your GPS on?" Sam asked as he scrolled through his contact list.
"Always." Garth nodded.
"Track it." Sam ordered as he put the phone to his ear. "And Garth? I'm done with idle threats. You don't come back with his location...don't come back."
()()()()
Dean squinted against the glare from the over bright street lamps that were further and further apart. Huh, odd…he didn't remember a lake. He shook his head and the car swerved with the motion. He let off the gas and guided it back to the center of his lane. Well, between two lines anyway.
A car came at him, lights so bright, he cursed at the driver for having his high beams on. As if he'd been heard, the car blared its horn and Dean flipped him off.
"Prick." he muttered, steering one-handed because his left arm wouldn't extend up or out to reach the wheel. He sighed tiredly, ready to throw in the towel and quit. He wanted to call Sam and let him come get him. Find ice for his shoulder and heat for his aching hip. Sam was in Lemay, might as well make him useful since he hadn't stayed home where he belonged.
But, noooonooo couldn't do that…he didn't have his stupid cell phone. Another sigh and he shook off his melancholy mood. Find the motel, he could do that and coffee. Definitely coffee…..large cup-o-joe...
The ringing of a cell phone startled him so badly he swerved off the road, right side tires bumping down off the berm. Shit, he slowed up more and eased back onto the road, steering with his knee as he fumbled along the seat next to him for the phone.
"Hullo?"
"Dean? Where the hell are you?"
"Who's this?" Dean retorted, wondering whose phone he had. Oh, right, Garth. "Garth? This you? Where you at dude?"
"Dammit Dean…it's Sam. Why aren't you at the motel?"
"Workin' on it." he muttered. "Sam? Oh." silence, another horn blared, another jerk of the wheel and the car swerved sharply. He dropped the phone to grab the steering wheel with his hand, missing whatever Sam had been bellyaching about. "What'cha want Sammy? Make it quick, driving with my knee here….." he winced at the shriek in his ear.
"PULL OVER!" Sam shouted. "Pull OVER right NOW. Do you understand me? Pull off the road and stop the fucking car Dean."
"What? Almost to the motel Sammy…." he peered out the windshield then leaned his head against the door window. There should be buildings, a shopping center, and diner…..a place to get coffee, not trees...wasn't the motel in town?
"Dean, so help me GOD, pull the fucking car to the side of the road, shut her down, and get into the backseat. Dean, hey, listen to me….Do you HEAR me?'
"Whole state of Missouri hears you." Dean muttered. "Yeah…yeah….hey…"
"DEAN! I am not kidding, you jerk. IF you aren't in the BACKSEAT when I find you, I will hogtie you to Garth, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" he waited. "AM I CLEAR?!"
"Yeah…yeah…you're clear, crystal clear." he sighed. "And loud."
"I'm on my way Dean." Sam said. "I'm coming to get you…just please, stay put. Can you do that?"
"Okay."