Disclaimer: I own nothing… except the plot, original characters, and of course, my words.
Author's Note: So I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that I bombed on my novel deadline. The good news is that one of the failure factors is staying in the cold north for a week with nothing to do but pack up a house and write at night. Farewell, November novel, I'll recommit in a few weeks when my moving in-laws are done….On with the story!
Fort Eustis, Newport News, Virginia
Gloria stared at the phone in her hand, her heart beating loudly in her ears. What had she gotten herself into? She wasn't a medic…or even a real hunter. When she needed medical attention she went to a hospital, like most normal people. Hell, she had bitched at her dad for pulling shit like this when he was on the road hunting. Her hand shook slightly as she set the phone on the bedside table. A string of incoherent muttering from Dean brought her attention back to the facts: he was getting worse and if there was a chance that burning the mark off of his skin would help, she had to buck up and get it done. No dilly dallying. Her dad had raised her to be efficient and creative with limited resources, turns out this was the kind of thing he had been preparing her for.
She laid a hand over his brow, her own furrowing at the heat that continued to roll off of him. He was burning up; she didn't need a thermometer to know he was pushing 104 degrees. Another few tenths of a degree and she'd have to start worrying about seizures. She had to get him cooled down.
With a hesitant glance back at him, she darted to the small kitchen, rummaging through drawers for anything she could heat up enough to burn the mark from his skin. She knew from her own cooking experience that all she needed was a heat source and a metal conductor to store the heat. Nearly any kitchen utensil would work. She slammed the first two drawers closed with a frustrated sigh, only flimsy silverware and plastic sporks to be found.
"What kind of kitchen doesn't have a decent…," she muttered aloud as she opened the last drawer, her eyes landing on a large serving spoon. She eyed the spoon and glanced at the gas stove. "This poor spoon is about to go where no potato salad serving spoon has gone before…"
She flipped on the stove burner, the flames springing to life with the whoosh and pop of the gas igniting.
Gloria laid the spoon next to the stove and headed back into the bedroom, her eyes immediately locking onto the man writhing on the bed. His eyes moved restlessly under their lids, flicking this way and that. Words, undiscernible, escaped his cracked lips. He was getting further and further away from reality. She grabbed the Gatorade soaked sheet from the floor and tossed it into the bathtub, taking a minute to fill the tub halfway with cold water. Ice wasn't a good choice for a fever so high, she'd have to make do with a cold, wet sheet and go from there.
She moved to the side of the bed and considered how she was going to keep him still while she burned the mark off his back. It didn't matter how far gone and weak he might seem to be now, the second that scalding metal touched him, he'd be impossible to hold down; she had to figure this out ahead of time. She grabbed the edge of the bed sheet and used it gently roll Dean back onto his stomach. His breath hitched in his chest, his hands moving shakily, trying to grab at something, anything… Gloria laid a hand on the nape of his neck and felt the heat continuing to roll off him. "Just hang on, man. I'll try to make this quick."
Gloria maneuvered his handcuffed hands in front of him, his face cradled between his arms. She reluctantly twisted the bed sheet into a long rope and looped it through the handcuffs before tying it to the headboard. "I haven't got anything to tie down your legs…we'll just have to see how this goes, I guess."
After rummaging through the bags, she found the small first aid kit and tossed it next to the bed. With a hesitant sigh, she headed back to the kitchen and held the spoon over the stove burner. She watched as the metal began to discolor from the heat; she carefully rolled the spoon through the flames, making sure that enough of the spoon had been heated. She knew she had to do this right the first time.
Once the spoon was heated, she quickly headed to the bedroom and climbed onto the bed taking care to not startle him; his eyes remained closed, moving feverishly under their lids. She carefully eased herself down onto his back, straddling his hips. She felt him shudder beneath her, from fear or the fever she couldn't be sure. He wasn't aware enough of his surrounding to know what was about to happen but she knew that trying to keep him still would most likely be impossible, even if this was the best thing for him. She held the scalding hot spoon in one hand as she slowly slid his boxers down another inch, exposing the small offending mark that lay just in the curve of his lower back.
Gloria took a deep breath and doubled her grip on the spoon. The heat had traveled the length of the spoon and the handle was starting to feel hot in her hand.
"Sorry about this. Just go ahead and pass out, Dean. Please," she said through gritted teeth as she pressed the blisteringly hot spoon against his skin.
The effect was immediate, his body instantly taut from the painful assault. The cry that escaped his lips was one filled with agonizing pain; a sound that sent goose bumps racing across her skin with a shiver. He moved beneath her, trying desperately to displace the source of his pain. He arched against her before thrashing from side to side; his hands balled tightly in fists as he pulled against the handcuffs. Gloria struggled to hold the spoon against his skin as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room; she gagged at the smell. He arched against her again, making her slide down his onto his legs; she scrambled to remain planted firmly over his hips, she held the burning spoon with one hand as she placed her other hand firmly between his shoulder blades and pushed him into the mattress with the tiny bit of leverage she had. He immediately began to kick with his legs, trying to find any traction he could use to fight. Gloria moved slightly lower on his hips, holding her own against his determination to displace her. "Just pass out already."
"Stop…Sammy, stop," Dean ground out through gritted teeth, his every muscle taut with pain and fear.
"Hey! Dean! Dean, listen to me…we're almost done."
She watched as he pulled harshly against the handcuffs. She could see blood on the bed sheet underneath him.
"Sam! Sammy…" he sobbed out weakly as he began to kick his legs again. "Stop…please stop…"
"Dean…stop fighting me…Sam is coming. So is Bobby. They'll be here soon…I promise, Sam is coming."
Dean's breathing dissolved into a series of short pants, each one sounding more pained than the last. She quickly removed the spoon and looked down for any remaining sign of the mark that she had set out to destroy. Finding none, she tossed the spoon onto the wooden floor and moved to kneel next to him on the bed. She watched his face for any sign of change now that the mark was gone.
Dean's face was taut with pain, tears streaking through the sweat that glistened on his fevered skin, his eyes screwed shut against the surroundings he couldn't understand. His breaths were still short and shaky. She gently laid a hand against the nape of his neck and leaned close to him. "Dean, you did great, man. It's over. We're done."
She picked up the spoon and carried it into the kitchen, tossing it in the sink before splashing cold water on her face. She wiped the water from her face with shaking hands, she couldn't believe this was considered medical attention by current hunters, surely there were some doctors who were in the loop, even nurses would suffice…Hell— even a veterinarian could have given him something for pain.
She headed back to Dean and picked up the first aid kit and dumped its contents on the bedside table. She undid the sheet and released his arms before realizing he had finally passed out. "About time...should have just kicked your ass into a coma before we did that. Holy shit, that was intense."
She grabbed a small pack of burn cream from the kit and smeared it gently on the wound with a piece of gauze before layering it with gauze and medical tape. "Gotta love Silvadine, bet you won't even have a scar."
Gloria gently rolled him onto his side and stuffed a pillow behind him, taking care to not put any pressure on his burn wound. She didn't hesitate as she removed the handcuffs, her stomach dropping at the site of his raw and bleeding wrists. She swallowed dryly as she uncurled his fingers to find moon shaped wounds in his palms where his own fingernails had cut into him. She glanced at the bloody sheet and frowned at the pattern. With a little hesitation, she held his face in her hands and pulled his lips apart. Blood stained his teeth. She pulled her small flashlight from her bag and gently eased his mouth open further. "Looks like you just bit the shit out of your lip and cheek," she said as she let his head gently fall back to the bed. "Can't do anything about that though."
She moved back to his bloody wrists and grabbed the iodine swabs from her the kit. "Least these won't sting," she said as she gently swiped the raw and open areas surrounding his wrists. She slowly dabbed the triple antibiotic in place before twining the gauze around his wrists. She exhaustedly tossed the empty packets into the garbage can before laying her hand on Dean's forehead. He was still burning up.
"Please say we didn't just do all that for nothing," she said as she headed to the bathroom. After wringing some of the cold water from the sheet, she laid it across Dean, making sure to cover everything from his neck down. If a cold sheet didn't have any effect, they'd end up in the tub again, and frankly they didn't have much gauze left to redo bandages. She dug through her bag and sighed in relief when she found the bottle of Tylenol. It wouldn't do much for his pain, but it might bring his fever down some. If she could get him to swallow any… and if he wasn't allergic…Time to call Bobby again.
Before she managed to call him, the phone went off in her hand. "Bobby?"
"It's Sam. Did you—"
"It's done."
"…How is he doing," Sam asked hesitantly. He knew that Dean had been in bad shape before and he couldn't imagine that what Gloria had put him through had made an immediate impact for the better.
"He's…well, I wished he would have passed out earlier…He was in agony and calling out for you. In other, better news the mark is gone. I've got his wounds cleaned up and covered. As for the fever…it's still running high. I've got a cold wet sheet on him right now and I'll move him to a cool bath if he needs it," Gloria explained. "I've got some Tylenol, but I wanted to make sure he's not allergic or anything."
She could hear a small smile in his voice as he replied. "No, Dean's never been allergic to anything except the thought of vegetables and insipid pop music."
Gloria chuckled. "He passed out a few minutes ago, which trust me, was the best thing for him. But as for getting the Tylenol in him, well, you remembered what happened when I offered the Gatorade and pop tart…how do I get Tylenol in an unconscious and food phobic hunter?"
She could hear Sam talking to Bobby in the background for a minute before Sam addressed her again. "Our best suggestion isn't going to be the most pleasant one, but hopefully he won't wake up for it—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa…hold up. If you're about to go all 'Trainspotting' with this and ask me to shove it up his—
"No! Of course not," Sam said, cutting her off. "…I wouldn't ask that…unless it was really, really, really necessary…You don't think that's necessary yet…do you?"
"No! I don't think we're that desperate yet," Gloria said with a sigh of relief.
"Good, now, Bobby and I are suggesting that you pop three in his mouth and hold his mouth closed. Hopefully, his swallow reflex will kick in and do all the work for you. If he fights, all we can suggest is holding his mouth shut and cutting off his airway. He'll swallow in order to breath," Sam stated. "Not pretty, but it's the only way at times."
"I'm getting the impression that Dean has a strong history of being a bad patient," Gloria said as she shook three Tylenol into her hand.
Sam laughed almost sadly. "You have no idea. Call us back when you're done."
Gloria tossed the phone back onto the table and moved to Dean. His freckles stood out on his flushed skin, his eyes sunken. His breathing was nearly back to normal, except for a slight hitch in his exhale. "Bet you're hurting. Let's get this done so I can stop poking and prodding you for a little while."
She gently eased the first tablet through his chapped and bloody lips. His eyelids flicked slightly as she slid the second and third tablets into his mouth; each time making her heart skip a beat. She slowly eased his jaw shut and waited, watching his throat hopefully. If he would swallow on his own, it would be better by far.
She watched as his eyes opened; glassy and unfocused. She watched as his gaze moved across the room, looking for something.
"Sam is on the way. Can you swallow what's in your mouth? It's Tylenol."
He started at the sound of her voice, wincing as his battered body tensed up, his gaze moving wildly as he tried to focus on her. She watched as he tried to desperately rid himself of the pills.
"You need to swallow those," she said gently but firmly.
The defiant look that crossed his face made her chuckle. "Yeah, I get it. But still, you have to swallow them."
As the first pill slid past his lips, she sighed and poked it back in. "Fine. We'll try it Sam and Bobby's way." She laced one hand behind Dean's neck and clapped the other one over Dean's mouth and nose. "When you swallow the Tylenol, I'll let go."
He tried to pull away from her, his hands coming up defensively when she applied more pressure to his neck. She watched as his fevered green eyes rolled wildly. "I'm sorry, Dean."
He continued to fight weakly against her, his movements becoming more uncoordinated and panicky the longer it went on. Tears rolled down his fevered cheeks, his eyes glassy and unseeing. Just when Gloria was about to relent and remove her hand, he swallowed the pills.
"Finally," she mumbled as she moved her hands away from him.
Dean's eyes slid closed; his breathing slow and shaky. Gloria slid down to the floor, leaning against the bed. She closed her eyes and took her own deep breathe. She opened her eyes when she heard Dean mumbling again.
"Sammy…gotta find me…Sam…"
Gloria turned back to Dean and sighed when she felt another wave of heat coming off of him. "Guess it's time for another cold sheet, Dean…This is going to be one long ass wait for your brother."
Somewhere Along the Wisconsin Interstate
Bobby watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't that the boys wanted someone keeping an eye on them; it just seemed that when no one did, things fell to shit.
"What is it, Bobby," Sam asked without looking up from the map in his hand. He knew the best route to Fort Eustis, but he kept skimming the pages. He couldn't sit still; even knowing that Dean was as safe as anyone could make him. It was Sam's job; he needed to be there.
Bobby cleared his throat before speaking. "I'm thinking we need to pull over for a few minutes."
Sam glanced over at the gas gauge. "Didn't we stop an hour ago?"
"I think we could use a few minutes out of the car," Bobby stated as he turned the car for an off ramp.
Sam frowned. "Bobby, I'm good. You want me to drive for awhile?"
"No, Sam, I don't want you to drive. But I'm guessing by the way you keep rubbing at those stitches in your forehead you're ready for them to come out. And better we pull over and take care of it now before you sit there and yank them out from being tense and worried."
"Bobby, I'm okay. Let's just keep going," Sam said, even as he caught himself reaching for his forehead.
Bobby grabbed his hand midair and caught his eye. "We're pulling over for a minute. And we're grabbing something to eat while we're pulled over. And not some gas station egg salad either. You need to eat a real meal."
"But Bobby, we're—"
"Shut up, boy! I know you, as soon as we get to Dean you'll be all mother-henning over him and forget to take care of yourself. I'm not going to nursemaid both of you! You seem to forget you had a nasty concussion, a car crash, and stitches just a little while ago. Now just grab that suture kit from the glove box," Bobby snapped. "Besides, we need to take a few minutes and talk about Dean."
Sam froze, his hand in the glove box. "What about Dean?"
Bobby pulled into a parking lot and killed the engine. "We got lucky, real lucky, with Gloria being the one to find him. She said he's not taking any food or fluids…and unfortunately, until we know why, we've got to work around that. We've also got a long drive back to South Dakota…we'll need to make him comfortable… We also need to figure out what our next move is in regards to keeping him safe. We still don't have any clue what's taking him and as much as Dean's health is important…getting to the bottom of this is the real priority, Sam. If he keeps getting taken, it doesn't matter how much we do for him…if he disappears again, he might deteriorate before we can find him again... It's time to stop playing nice."
Sam sat silently, Bobby's words sinking in. "What are you suggesting we do, Bobby?"
"First… that we get Dean back to the yard…Then, we're going to have to deck the panic room out with everything we can think of, so start making a list of supplies and ingredients. He's going to have to wait it out while we figure out something."
Sam's eyes widened. "You're suggesting we lock Dean in the panic room… for however long it takes for us to find out the source of this…" His tone of disbelief and defiance made Bobby scowl.
"I'm not suggesting it. I'm saying it."
"Bobby, you know that locking Dean in the panic room…he's going to hate it…"
"I didn't say he's going to like it. But it's time we do anything and everything we can to keep his ass grounded."
Sam nodded slowly as he handed the kit to Bobby. He knew Bobby was right, but damn if it wasn't going to be hard to enforce that kind of decision. He knew that Dean hated the panic room for its practical purposes and yet it was the best option they had…and one that he wouldn't have considered if it hadn't been for Bobby pointing it out.
Without a word Bobby got out of the car and walked around to Sam's door. Sam swung his feet out of the car and sat silently as Bobby gently clipped the line of stitches before using the tweezers to pull them through. Each man was lost in their thoughts as they went through the motions through that they had become accustomed to over the years. Bobby was as much of a father as a friend; he knew when they needed a soft couch and hot meal and a home to call on, as much as when they needed some tough love. Today, Sam needed both.
"Us getting Dean isn't the prize, it's the beginning of us fighting back. We—Dean—can't afford for us to relax once we get to him," Bobby said, breaking the silence. "As much as Dean might not be ready to be on lockdown…it's come down to that."
Sam glanced up at Bobby, his jaw tight. He hesitantly nodded. "Agreed."
52°45′7.66″N 23°52′44.86″E
Crowley sighed again, it wasn't the first time Castiel had just up and body snatched him and it certainly wouldn't be the last; certainly not if their deal came to fruition.
"Maybe we could just address your needs via a phone," Crowley stated as he turned to face the angel.
Castiel frowned at Crowley. "I get the impression that you are not agreeable to our current meeting schedule."
"If only we had a bloody schedule! Castiel, you are an angel…I would presume that you are busy. And I—I am the bloody King of bloody Hell! I am busy! I have contracts to review, information to extract from minions, and tithes to collect and count—do you have any idea how long it takes to count the souls tithed to hell each year and to issue receipts for those kinds of deliveries?! I am busy, so yes—I am annoyed with your lack of empathy towards my own responsibilities."
Castiel stared at Crowley, his face absent of emotion. "I apologize."
"I don't want a bloody apology! I want to know what you want so I can get back to what I was doing!"
"What where you doing," Castiel asked, his head cocking slightly to one side.
Crowley's eyes closed in frustration. "I was working to eliminate a loophole in a contract," he said through gritted teeth. "Now I'm going to have to find that little shit demon again before they strike another non-binding contract with some pathetically miserable bastard."
Castiel stood silent.
"Can we get on with it then," Crowley snapped with a wave of his hand. "What do you want?"
"I was curious to find out of you or your lesser demons have located Dean Winchester," Castiel stated. "I have heard no word on his whereabouts but Sam and Bobby have stopped praying to me. Has he been found?"
Crowley frowned. "No, I've got people looking. So far, he's not turned up anywhere. Now, if you would excuse me, I have several things that need addressing."
Castiel placed his hand on Crowley's arm, his eyes burning fiercely. "If I find that you have lied to me, I will be swift and just with my vengeance."
Crowley scoffed and pulled his arm away from Castiel. "If I hear anything, I'll contact you. Otherwise, let's keep these meetings to a minimum. We don't want Heaven or Hell to get suspicious, now do we? If your obsession with Dean Winchester costs me the Purgatory deal…I'll skin him alive and throw him to my dogs."
Fort Eustis, Newport News, Virginia
Gloria rubbed her eyes; she was exhausted, but she knew that no matter how tired she was, Dean felt a hundred times worse. She was perched on the end of the bed, one hand ready to check the sheet. She had been rewetting the sheet with cold water nearly every twenty minutes for the last two hours. Dean's temperature would start to drop only to suddenly rise again, each time bringing with it incoherent mutterings and fevered nightmares. She continued to push Tylenol into his mouth, each time praying it would have the desired effect.
"Time for the tub," she said with an exhausted sigh. "Your brother's going to owe me big time for this."
She hooked him under the arms and heaved him upright as a shudder wracked his frame. Gloria waited for it to pass before pulling him from the bed. His skin burned hot against her. She knew his lack of sweating was the beginning of a bad thing, dehydration. She needed to find a way to get fluids into him.
He fought weakly against her as she did her best to maneuver him into the tub, feet and legs first before she pushed his hips into the room temperature water. As the water touched him, his muscles tensed, his body arching against the tub. He began to mutter, this time more threatening than helpless. She smiled tiredly at the idle threat.
"Look at me, Dean. "
Dean's head rolled weakly on his shoulders, his eyes opening slowly. It was the first sign of self-recognition she had seen from him. She looked into his fever bright, bloodshot eyes; hoping for any sign that he was better off for having had the mark burned off of him.
"You in there," she asked slowly.
Dean didn't respond to her question. "Where is Sammy...Want Sam…"
"Sam is on the way," Gloria said firmly. "How are you doing?"
Dean's eyes closed for a second before Gloria have him a sharp jab to the chest. His eyes opened, slightly quicker this time.
"How are you feeling?"
Dean grunted before muttering. "Where are the others?"
"Others? Other what?"
Dean pushed her arms away, causing him to sink lower in the tub; he gasped as the water rose around him. "The other men," he spat angrily as his head dropped against the tiled wall. He glared at her as she sat on her haunches, becoming eye level with him.
"I have no other men," she said evenly. "You are Dean Winchester, you're running a fever. I'm Gloria Johnson. I found you while on patrol here on Fort Eustis. We're in Virginia. Can you tell me how you got here?"
Dean chuckled sadly. "Not falling for that….not fooling me…"
Gloria watched as Dean's eyes closed again. She sighed before picking up her cell phone again and angrily dialed Bobby.
"Everything alright," Bobby barked into the phone.
"Look, I don't care how long that road is or how far away you guys are, you get your asses down here faster," Gloria said snapped as she yanked the last of the dry towels from the rack.
"What's wrong," Bobby asked, concern springing into his voice.
"I think I just had my first conversation—if you want to call it that—with Dean. He's confused and I'm going to go out on a limb and say he's paranoid. He thinks I'm…I don't know…he thinks I have more men somewhere… It doesn't make any sense but he thinks I'm trying to fool him. Like none of this is real," Gloria explained as her frustration and exhaustion seeped into her voice.
She listened to Bobby and Sam murmuring in the background. She was surprised when Sam suddenly began talking to her.
"I know paranoia sounds bad, but honestly, that's pretty normal for Dean when he's running a really high fever," Sam explained. "I'm guessing the fever hasn't broke yet?"
Gloria shook her head tiredly. "No."
"Tylenol, cold sheets, cool bath—"
"Done it all," Gloria stated. "He's dehydrated, Sam. And he still won't take any fluids."
Sam was silent for a few minutes before he spoke up. "What about you?"
"What?"
"You. You've been up with him for hours now and before that you were on patrol," Sam said. "How long you been up?"
Gloria fought back a yawn. "I got a catnap earlier when I was in the tub with him. Other than that…I don't know…doesn't matter. How far out are you?"
Sam sighed into the phone. "Still quite a ways. Try to get some sleep, you both need it."
"I'll do what I can," Gloria said with a yawn. "You think of anything else that might help, call me."
She tossed her phone back on the edge of the sink and turned to Dean. He was staring at her, his glassy eyes tracking her as she paced the room.
"Your fever down any yet," she asked as she crossed the room and laid her hand across his forehead. He pulled away from her, barely an inch before he stopped. He laid his head on the edge of the tub and went back to mumbling.
"Sammy," he murmured. "Gonna find me, Sammy…"
"Nothing's going to get you, not while I'm here." Gloria sighed and let the water drain from the tub. "Let's try to get some sleep. We could both use it. If you kick or hog the bed, I'll shoot you; you understand me?"
Author's Note: Okay… so to be honest, this chapter was a tad bigger, but we're talking monster sized goodness so I spliced off a few pages for the next chapter since there's a time jump. Trust me, the next chapter will be up soon! Oh yeah…and Gloria will get a chance to go toe to toe with one of the fuglies! Bwahahhahahaha!