Chapter Twenty
Jo's eyes tried to drift close as she sat on the couch, Dean leaning against her chest. This was the first break she'd taken since being rescued. Now that she was sitting still, exhaustion was finally catching up to her and she was finding it difficult to stay awake.
Sam was out trying to find more wood for the dying fire. The small wood pile they had found outside the cabin had been quickly exhausted, so as soon as it was light enough outside to walk without tripping, Sam had gone in search of more useable wood.
Jo adjusted her position slightly, shaking her head to keep herself awake. No matter how tired she was, she couldn't go to sleep yet. Not while she was the only one here to take care of Dean. Not when he could wake up at any moment. Not after last time.
About an hour ago, Sam had been out of the room and Jo had been warming her hands by the fire when something slammed into her back. When she had turned around, Dean had been collapsed on the floor. He had apparently woken up without her noticing, and, seeing only the back of a blonde female and being delirious with pain, had jumped to conclusions and assumed she was the demon. His hunter instincts kicked in and he attacked her with the closest thing to him: a water bottle. He had slammed it into her back with all the adrenaline-fueled force he could muster, but had unbalanced himself in the process and crashed painfully to the floor. When Sam ran into the room moments later, Dean was sprawled on the floor, desperately trying to fend off Jo with the water bottle. It had taken several minutes to calm Dean down enough to realize that Jo wasn't the demon and that there was no immediate danger. After resituating him on the couch, they had coaxed him into taking more pain killers before he drifted off to sleep again.
Dean had pulled several stitches in his escape attempt and had aggravated his arm and rib in the fall. Sam and Jo fixed him up the best they could, but they quickly ran out of gauze. With no thread, no bandages, and an unconscious Dean, they couldn't do much else besides continuing to warm him up and waiting for Ellen to arrive.
Now Jo sat behind him, lending him her body warmth while keeping her face where he could clearly see it if he woke up. They didn't need him mistaking her for the demon again and injuring himself even more.
Dean moaned quietly, pain lines marring his face even in sleep. Jo absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him. God, she hoped her mother got here soon.
A gust of wind ripped through the room as Sam opened the door of the cabin. He closed it quickly and dropped the wood by the fireplace, his face flushed from the cold.
"How is he?" Sam asked over his shoulder as he stoked the fire.
"The same. He hasn't moved at all since you left." Sam nodded stiffly in response, feeding more wood to the flames. Even from her position on the couch, Jo could tell that he was tense with worry and exhaustion.
"You know, Ash hasn't always had a mullet," Jo said once the fire was blazing again.
Sam turned and blinked at her. "What?"
"When I first met him, Ash didn't have a mullet. He had a full-blown head of hair, longer than yours."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm trying to lighten the mood. We can't do much more until Mom gets here or Dean wakes up, so you can either sit and listen to my story or we can wait in awkward silence. Your choice."
Sam stared at her incredulously for a moment before dragging over an old armchair from the corner of the room. "Alright. So, Ash's hair?"
"About three years ago the Roadhouse was empty except for the two of us. All the patrons had left and Mom was off doing something, I don't remember what." She spoke quietly so as not to wake Dean. "Anyway, we were playing pool when Ash decided to turn it into a drinking game. Pretty simple, you miss the hole, you take a shot. It took about an hour before we were really drunk. Ash sucks at pool, so he was drunker than I was. When he was lining up a shot, he somehow managed to drop his gum into his hair. I don't know how he did it, but he got it stuck pretty badly. Bad enough that the old peanut butter trick didn't work. That or we were just too drunk to get the peanut butter trick to work. He started talking about how he, and I quote, 'ain't gonna walk around with a head full of pink blob,' and the next thing I knew, he'd grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a big chunk of hair off the left side of his head. And, of course, Mom chose that moment to walk in, right when Ash was walking around the bar, triumphantly holding up the gum-filled hair like a trophy. She wasn't too happy to see this, especially considering how drunk we were, and she immediately sat him down and cut off the same amount of hair from the other side. Not sure why she did it, maybe her maternal instincts kicked in and she was trying to teach him a lesson for getting so drunk (and for letting me get so drunk). If she meant it as punishment, it backfired. He got a mullet that night and he's refused to change it ever since."
"So, a little piece of gum is the real reason Ash has a mullet? Not some homage to the eighties? "
"Pretty much."
Sam threw his head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. The story wasn't that funny, but the stress he had been under was finally catching up to him, and he couldn't hold back the laughter. Jo joined in, trying in vain to keep it quiet. Soon they were both laughing hysterically, releasing all the built-up tension of the last 36 hours. Their laughter increased tenfold when Sam leaned back too far in the chair and it suddenly reclined, causing him to topple over with a curse. Thankfully the noise didn't wake Dean up.
Thirty minutes later and Sam and Jo were still swapping stories and telling jokes in quiet gaiety. They didn't stop until the sound of tires on gravel interrupted them.
"Oh thank God. Ellen's here," Sam said, walking quickly towards the door. Jo squirmed out from under Dean, trying to disturb him as little as possible. By the time she had extracted herself and resituated the blanket on Dean, her mom and Sam were coming into the cabin, their arms loaded with medical supplies.
"Jo! Are you alright?" Ellen asked immediately upon seeing her daughter.
"I'm fine, Mom, don't worry." Ellen set down the supplies in her arms and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. She released Jo, then promptly smacked her on the shoulder.
"Don't you ever run off like that again Joanna Beth! Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, I…ow! Stop it!" Jo moved back a step as her mother slapped her again before pulling her into another tight hug.
"I was so worried," Ellen said into Jo's hair.
"I know, I'm sorry," Jo said, hugging her back.
"Sam said you were hurt," Ellen held Jo at arm's length, critical eyes scanning her for signs of injury. Her mouth tightened at the sight of the blood on the over-sized shirt and the bandages on her arm.
"I'll be ok, I took care of it. Dean's the one that needs help." Ellen checked her over one more time before nodding.
"Where is he?" Jo gestured to the couch.
"Oh my God," Ellen whispered as she rounded the couch and saw Dean's broken body. She lifted the blanket off his chest and winced when she saw the myriad of wounds decorating it. "Christ."
She started examining Dean with deft fingers. Years of working at the Roadhouse had made her accustomed to tending to wounded hunters.
"We stitched him up the best we could before we ran out of thread and bandages. He's managed to pull a few stitches since then," Sam explained.
"How'd he do that?" Ellen inquired as she pressed gently into Dean's side, checking for any signs of internal damage.
"He woke up not too long ago, panicked, and tried to make a break for it. Before that, he had a, a seizure," Sam faltered a little at the last part.
Ellen paused in her examination and looked at Sam. "He had a seizure?"
"Yeah," Sam answered quietly.
"God, you never do anything halfway, do you?" she murmured to Dean. She finished taking stock of Dean's injuries and turned to the other two hunters.
"You two start stitching up the rest of these wounds. I'm going to get him hooked up to the IV's." Sam and Jo nodded and immediately went to work. Ellen found a floor lamp in the dining room to hang the IV bags from. Once she had the IV's set and dripping at an acceptable rate, Ellen took Dean's vitals using the equipment she had brought.
"How is he?" Sam asked nervously as Ellen removed the pressure cuff from Dean's bicep.
"His blood pressure is low, but that's to be expected. The IV's should help with that. He's running a slight fever, but it's nothing to be worried about yet. If he keeps going the way he is, I think he should survive."
"Thank God," Sam sighed at the good news. "What about his hand? Will it be ok?"
Ellen looked the hand for a moment, then sighed. "This is beyond my level of expertise. But I know someone who's patched up hunters before who can help. As soon as Dean's well enough to travel, we'll take him there. For now, all we can do is bandage it." Ellen quickly put her words into action, swathing the hand in a thick layer of gauze.
"Now," Ellen said, turning to Sam and Jo. "You two are going to eat and get some sleep."
"Not yet. Dean still needs help, and I haven't finished the stitches…" Ellen held up a hand to stop Sam.
"Dean won't die if you take a moment to care for yourself, Sam. Don't worry, I'll watch him closely and wake you if anything goes wrong. But right now you are going to eat the food I brought and then you are going to rest. You look like death warmed over."
"But…"
"Sam Winchester, don't think I won't slap you if you don't do as I say. Now eat." Sam sighed and complied. Jo handed him one of the sandwiches Ellen had brought. Once he started eating, he was surprised at how hungry he actually was. He quickly wolfed down the sandwich, then indulged in a bag of chips from the sack of food. It didn't take long before both he and Jo had eaten their fair share. Sam had to admit, he felt much better with a full stomach.
Hunger saturated, Sam turned his attention back to Dean. Before he could do anything, however, Ellen batted him away.
"No. Now you need to get some sleep."
"Ellen, I feel fine. Eating helped. I can still…ow!" Sam brought his hand up to his stinging face. Ellen wasn't lying when she said she would slap him. Sam could have sworn he heard Jo giggle behind him, but when he glanced at her, her face was passive.
"You sit your ass down and get some sleep. You don't want Dean to wake up and see you falling over from exhaustion, do you?"
Sam grudgingly sat down on the recliner, carefully leaning it back so it wouldn't dump him on the floor again. Jo took the worn-down loveseat. While there was probably a bed or two somewhere in the house, this was the only room that offered in source of warmth. Besides, neither of them wanted to be too far away from Dean.
Three hours later, Sam woke up with a shiver. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he glanced at the fire. Once again, it was reduced to embers, and the wood pile he had gathered was gone. Sam made a mental note to get more wood soon. Yawning, Sam looked around the room. Jo was still asleep, curled into a tight ball, and Ellen sat in a dining room chair by the couch, reading a book. Dean appeared to still be asleep.
"Hey Sam," Ellen said quietly when she noticed he was awake.
"How's Dean?" Sam asked groggily.
"He's fine. Or, at least, he hasn't gotten worse. We'll need to change some of the bandages soon, though. Some of them are starting to bleed through." Sam nodded, dragging himself out of the chair to kneel by the couch.
Dean didn't look as pale as he had before Sam went to sleep. The fluids and blood Ellen had brought seemed to be helping a lot. His fingers and lips were no longer blue, and he seemed to be breathing a little easier, although pain lines still marred his face.
"Have you given him any pain meds?" Sam looked over at Ellen.
"We've only got oral ones, and he hasn't woken since I've gotten here. The last time he got anything was whenever you last gave him some." Sam nodded again.
Sam gently brushed his brother's matted hair off of his forehead. Dean stirred at the touch, green eyes slowly blinking open.
"Sammy?" he croaked.
"Hey, Dean. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's ok." Dean stared at him critically through eyes still hazy with pain and sleep. "You ok?"
Sam would have laughed at the question if it didn't hurt so much at the same time. Leave it to Dean to put his brother before himself. "Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. How are you feeling?"
"Just peachy," Dean groaned, his voice defying his words.
"Well, you look like crap."
"Still better looking than you."
Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. Yeah, Dean was feeling better. "Jerk," he scoffed.
"Bitch."
"Do you want some more painkillers?"
"Well, since you offered…" Sam helped Dean sit up enough to take the pills. When he managed to drain an entire glass of water, albeit slowly, Sam offered him some crackers that Ellen had brought. Dean managed to eat a few before having to stop. He leaned back against the couch, feeling drained from the slight exertion.
"Sammy?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah?" Sam answered as he put the box of food away.
"Do you ever think about…?" Dean paused.
"Do I ever think about what?" Sam prompted gently.
"Never mind, it's stupid."
"What is it?" Sam asked again, his interest peaked. Before Dean could say anything else, however, the sound of tires crunching on gravel could be heard from outside. Sam looked at Ellen, puzzled. Who would be coming here?
Ellen set her book down and peeked through the moth-eaten curtains.
"Sam?" Ellen said quietly, an urgent note in her voice. "Do you care to explain why the police are at our door?"
A/N: Sorry, I know the story with Ash isn't the best, but it was the best I could do in a short period of time. And I know I've said it a thousand times, but I'm going to say it again: thanks for reading and for the reviews! I really do appreciate it! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can.