Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but I do love to borrow and play rough!
Author's Note: THANK YOU to all you reviewers out there, I try to respond to each review, but let me say again to the nameless, faceless guests that I appreciate every review! They make my day, over and over again, when I see them!
I love that people are stumped and I'm tickled that people are guessing! Poor Dean…
MANY APOLOGOIES for the majorly horrendous, poorly timed week that I dropped off of planet Earth. I had a wedding and potential funeral up in upstate New York and had NO INTERNET access! AUGH!
So I wrote on the drive home, whilst hopped up on anti-carsickness meds…a quadruple dose got two chapters done. Anyone got an extra kidney now?
WinJennster, thanks for being my lifeline to the world this past week…I only had reception if I leaned on one foot towards the kitchen door or while hanging at the VFW bar looking for hunters.
Alright adventurers, LET'S DO THIS EVIL THING! Bwaahahahahaaha
Bobby pulled off the interstate and turned the car towards Sioux Falls. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Dean, who was unusually quiet. Bobby had insisted on ice packs for Dean's aching legs and feet, pulling over every hundred miles to get a new bag of ice and to check the many bruises that laced the man's arm. Ten minutes on, twenty minutes off; Dean seemed so distracted that Bobby had to keep reminding Dean to move the ice to avoid potential nerve damage.
It had been a long and painfully quiet trip from Washington, Dean had barely said a word since Patrick had helped get him into Bobby's car. Dean hadn't looked up when the car had left the interstate; Bobby wasn't even sure how aware Dean really was.
"Dean, you alright back there?"
Dean nodded slowly.
"You know what day it is?"
Dean nodded. He had checked Patrick's calendar before Bobby had loaded him into the car. Somehow, he felt cheated. The calendars and clocks were messing with him.
"You know where we are?"
Dean rolled his eyes and nodded.
"You lose your ability to talk?"
Dean shook his head, refusing to meet Bobby's gaze in the rearview mirror.
Bobby pulled the car onto the shoulder and killed the engine. "Dean, you know that if you show up like this—mute and just nodding—Sam's gonna have a field day of worry. You wanna talk about whatever's on your mind, son?"
Dean looked hesitant. "What the hell is going on, Bobby? I don't want to keep disappearing… and I don't want Sam crawling up my ass the second we get home."
Bobby nodded. Dean hated to be worried over, hated being under anyone's watchful eye. It was going to be even worse now that Dean was actually scared of what was happening to him. Bobby knew Dean would react badly to Sam's mother hen ways. He had always been that way.
"I don't know yet what's taking you, or why. But we're going to buckle down and figure it out, which is why we need to get back to Sam as soon as possible. He might have figured something out by the time we get there."
Dean nodded again; Bobby could see the traces of hidden fear in his eyes. He cranked the engine and pulled back onto the road.
Dean leaned his head against the window, shivering from the ice on his legs. The ice made him miserably cold; but without it, his legs were incredibly painful. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, he was so tired. He knew he had slept most of the trip but it seemed as though no amount of sleep made a dent in his exhaustion. He just wanted to crash on the couch but knew he'd be lucky to get past Sam without having a full on interrogation.
Dean woke up with a start when Bobby climbed out of the car and slammed his door. He ran a hand over his stubbly face; he was over it, whatever it was, that was snatching him up from his life. Dean watched as Sam sprinted to the car, yanking the door open and gazing in at his brother.
"Dean, you okay?"
Dean dropped the bags of ice onto the floor of the car and used his arms to pull himself to the door; wincing at the deep ache in his arm and the more troublesome pain in his legs and feet.
"Get your bags, Sammy, I want us to be on the road soon."
Sam's jaw dropped as he glanced at Bobby. "Dean—"
"Hey! Whatever this is, we can sort it out while we keep hunting. Bobby can call us if he finds anything," Dean said as he glared from Sam to Bobby, daring them to argue with him.
"Dean," Bobby interjected. "You need—"
"No! What I need is—"
Dean's words turned into a hiss of pain as his feet touched the ground. He slapped Sam's hands away and forced himself to stand. Bobby shook his head in frustration, knowing what was going to happen.
As soon as Dean let go of the car and took a step on his own, he went down hard. Bobby put a hand on Sam's chest to stop him from moving to help his brother.
Dean needed to find his own limit; if he didn't, he would fight them the entire time.
Dean laid on the ground, his teeth clenched in pain and eye pricked with unshed tears.
"I want to find whatever sonuvabitch is responsible for this and gut them slowly," Dean ground out through gritted teeth.
Bobby and Sam looked at each other, they both knew how Dean was going to get into the house and he wasn't going to like it.
With a nod to Bobby, Sam silently leaned down and scooped his brother up and carried him towards the house.
"Sam! Put me down!"
Dean fought for Sam to let him walk, but Sam turned a deaf ear and refused to stop. Within seconds, he had Dean through the front door and dropped him unceremoniously onto the couch.
Bobby had trailed behind, Dean's boots in his hands, listening to the ranting and raving from the older boy. He knew Dean was trying to cover up his panic and fear with harsh words, it was the way Dean had always done it.
But Dean's attitude wasn't enough to keep Sam back.
Sam silently placed a few ice packs on Dean's legs and feet before handing Dean a bottle of pain killers. As Dean fought to open the bottle, Sam took the chance to check out the bruises that laced up his arm. He spent the following hour prodding Dean for information, although Dean had no new information to give them. Sam was determined to keep Dean grounded. If that meant Dean would get annoyed at Sam, so be it.
It wasn't too bad until Dean wanted a shower.
"You're not going in there with me, Mr. Pantene Pro V, so you can stop right there," Dean snapped, trying to push Sam back from the bathroom door.
"You're not going in there alone either," Sam argued, his arms folded over his chest. "Every time you've been body snatched, you were by yourself, even if it was just for a second."
They were squared off at the bathroom door and Bobby could feel the waves of anxiety rolling of off Sam. He looked like he hadn't slept, even though Bobby had pressured him to get some sleep while he and Dean had been on the road.
Bobby stepped in with a solution. "Dean, you shower and sing the entire time so Sam and I can hear you. Sam, you stay outside the door and if Dean calls out for you or stops singing, take that as your cue to jump in."
"Bobby," Dean whined. "If I have to have a shower chaperone, can't you find me a woman, at least?"
Bobby almost smiled at that. "No such luck. You so much as bellow out the wrong chord and Sam will take that door off at the hinge. No messing around in there. You get in, scrub down, and get your ass back out here and where we can both see you."
Dean glared at Bobby. "Trust me; you'll be lucky if I can even stand long enough to wash anything."
Bobby pointed to the bathroom. "Sam, put that old stepstool in the tub so your brother can sit down to shower."
Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but Bobby saved him the embarrassment of needing the chair and the pain of choosing to not use it. "You've been in the back of my car long enough that you've got a real funk on you. And who knows what the hell you've got on you from wherever the hell you've been."
Dean trudged into the bathroom on tiptoe, as though the floor were covered with broken glass.
Sam groaned when Dean started singing, "Highway to Hell". It was practically a goddamn soundtrack for their lives and he hated every single word of it, much less when Dean was going to sing it for twenty minutes straight.
Sam leaned heavily on the low table that sat across from the bathroom door, his normally good posture gone. He was exhausted with worry. He could hear Bobby downstairs, on the phone again. It seemed like the man had a never ending data plan and a never ending list of return calls to make.
Sam ran his bare feet along the rug, the tips of his toes brushing lightly against the rough weave. He closed his eyes and listened to Dean through the door. He could hear the water flowing though the pipes, which rattled inside the wall. Sam's ears pricked as Dean's voice faltered.
"Dean," Sam called out, testing. No answer.
Sam slid from his perch on the table, his feet sliding on the worn rug, unbalancing him. With his arms reeling to catch himself, he went down hard. He groaned, flat on his back, before he quickly rolled onto his feet and moved to the bathroom door. "Dean!"
No answer.
Sam tried the door handle. "Goddamn it, Dean! Told you to leave it unlocked!"
The door smacked into the wall loudly as it swung open with the force of Sam's kick behind it. He didn't bother to worry about the wall or the door; making sure Dean was still where he was supposed to be, that was his only concern.
"Sam! What the hell, man! Get out!"
Dean glared at him from around the shower curtain.
"You have to keep singing, Dean. I thought you were gone again! I had to check," Sam spat out in relief. He closed the bathroom door and resumed his stance against the table.
Sam knew Bobby hadn't turned up an answer yet, but he was curious what Patrick Dennis had said to him. Bobby had been evasive when Sam had first asked him what had happened in Washington. He was biding his time to ask him again, hoping that it was Dean he hadn't wanted to talk in front of and not Sam. He knew that as much as Bobby wouldn't keep anything detrimental from him, he would hide something if he felt it wasn't relevant. Something had happened in Washington, and relevant or not, Sam wanted to know.
In a puff of steam Dean strode out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, walking on obviously painful feet.
Sam scrutinized his older brother's appearance. "You look smaller."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Height jokes, Sammy? Well, you look like a friggin sasquatch. There, now we're even. Where is my bag?"
Sam pointed across the hallway. "On the bed. And I mean you look like you're losing weight; in fact, when I picked you up, you seemed lighter."
Dean shrugged. "I don't know, how many meals have I missed with my sudden disappearances? Speaking of which, I'm starved. Hope Bobby has something in the fridge."
"Dinner's on the stove," Sam called out as he waited to follow Dean down the stairs. He knew he was risking a smack from his brother by hovering, but there was no way he wanted to go through another night of wondering where his brother was.
Bobby and Sam watched as Dean shoveled spaghetti into his mouth; Sam sat across from him while Bobby stood in the doorway. Neither one wanted to take their eyes off the man. The mileage was beginning to take its toll on all of them.
"We need to figure out sleeping arrangements," Sam said hesitantly.
"I already figured I'd be on the couch," Dean said off handedly. "You and Bobby switching off during the night."
"Probably the best we can do for now," Bobby grumbled. "We've got to figure out what we're missing and nip this thing in the bud."
Dean nodded vigorously as he shoveled in another mouthful.
"Dean, slow down," Sam said. "You've gonna make yourself sick."
Dean shook his head, refusing to listen to his brother.
"Fine, you're going to make me sick, alright? Slow down, that's disgusting," Sam said with a sigh of defeat.
Dean glared and spoke around the mouthful of food. "I'm starving, Sam. And if I go 'poof' again there goes my chance to eat."
"Maybe you should keep a granola bar in your pocket," Sam remarked innocently. "You know, for next time."
"Granola bars? Look man, I'm not some hippie food pack mule, so you can stop right there," Dean said defiantly. "If we can find a way to…I don't know…freeze dry a hamburger or something, maybe."
"A space burger? That's so gross," Sam said as he pushed his own plate full of spaghetti away in disgust.
"How about a beer then," Dean asked hopefully.
"We're out," Bobby interjected. "I'd offer milk but the gallon went bad. Had to dump it. You can have water or juice."
"Juice? Why? Am I going to preschool when dinner is over? Water is fine….Juice, geez, like being body snatched isn't bad enough."
"Dean, there is nothing wrong with juice," Sam argued. "It's good for –"
"If you boys are done trying to start a fight," Bobby interjected. "I'm going up for some shut eye. Keep it down, unless something happens. Watch the phones, we might get lucky and get some information."
Under Sam's watchful eye, Dean drifted to the couch, intent on finding something useful thru research. He was flipping through his second volume when he caught Sam staring at him over the top of his own book. Dean ignored him.
Sam sat at Bobby's desk unable to concentrate on the book in his hands. The more he stared at his brother, the more apparent Dean's weight loss was.
"Dean," Sam finally said, breaking the silence.
"What," Dean asked gruffly, not looking up from his book.
"You sure you don't remember anything," Sam asked curiously. "Anything at all?"
"How many times I gotta tell you, Sammy, I don't remember anything," Dean mumbled aloud without looking up. "Just that crazy sweet smell."
Sam frowned and glanced back down at the book in his hand. He went back to reading the details of dream root, the very one he and Dean had used years ago. Sam briefly wondered if he could use it to break into Dean's subconscious while he was sleeping; hoping to find a helpful clue that Dean just couldn't remember. He tossed the thought aside when he checked Bobby's cupboard and found the jar empty. Hell, even if the jar had been filled there was no guarantee it would work like he wanted it to.
Sam sighed in frustration, rubbing his tired eyes. He needed a break, hell, they all did.
But he knew that as a Winchester, things would only get worse before they would get better.
Alrighty then…if you can find it in your glorious hearts to crank out a review, I would love some feedback. Favorite parts? Want to see more of someone? Any ideas what they're dealing with yet? Come on people, DEAN NEARLY CRIED UP THERE! Wow…still shocked over that myself.
Also, I'm officially home again. Sleepers have been checked. Fridge has been pilfered. Know what that means?!
More writing! YAY!