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Author: DMartinez
Email: Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and the WB, CW. No infringement intended.
Rating: Mature
Category: Supernatural; Dean/Ellen, Dean/Carmen
Summary: Post season 2. Spoilers from Season 3 were utilized (but I was Kripked! still, I like it). Dean finally meets the woman of his dreams but is in no condition to do anything about it.
Long Time
He was awake and that was a good sign. Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was awake! He reached forward and touched Dean’s shoulder but Dean didn’t so much as flinch. It had been nine long days in the hospital. The first three spent in the burn unit. The three days before that, spent steadily slow and wearily marching through rain and mud to find civilization while delirious on pain. Dean hadn’t said a word in 12 days. Not since that loud and cracked “Sweet Mother of God!” when the brimstone exploded in all directions.“Dean?” Sam tried, shaking him lightly. “Hey man. You with me?” No response. “You in pain? I could get the doctor.” He looked to the bandages, which needed a changing. “Or we could just wait until the nurse comes by to change the bandages and let her call the doctor. The wounds are actually healing pretty well. The burn was fierce, but it didn’t go… you know… Too deep. They didn’t have to… excise much flesh.”
Dean’s response was to lift his heavy right arm and extend one finger.
“Glad you’re still with me, man.” Sam wiped at his eyes and tried to let his laugh have some mirth for all the relief that washed through him. “For a while there, we didn’t think you were going to wake up.”
Dean waved the finger around some more before letting his hand fall and shutting his eyes. He just didn’t feel like talking. Anyway, sounded like Sam didn’t mind having both sides of the conversation by himself.
“So, I was thinking… you’re going to be here for a while longer… while you recover. I can use that time to follow up on some of my research. Ellen is willing to do the running around for me… No one wants to lose you after all of this.”
Dean swallowed down a lump. Three months and five days. That’s how long he had left before his bill came due. 95 fucking days. A tear stung at his eye. Eye. Not eyes. Because he could feel that the left side of his face was covered in bandages.
“Dean? You okay, man?” Sam sounded panicked. “Nurse! Get a doctor!”
TBC
Last edited by DMartinez on Tue Jul 21, 2009 5:16 pm, edited 13 times in total.
“It’s been three days, man.” Sam whispered, pain in his voice. “The least you could do is say something. Anything. I will take a… ‘God damn it. That fucking hurts.’ Just… say something.”
Dean had nothing to say. There was nothing left to say. They had taken down six demons in one go and not gotten out of the proverbial pit unscathed, or he hadn’t. He didn’t feel any pain because morphine was a wonderful thing. In fact, he used his good hand to peel away the bandages over his left eye and just blinked against Sam’s many and loud protests. Eventually, he could make out the ceiling tiles just enough… but not perfect. Lifting his right hand, he moved it around and let out a sob.
“Dean?”
He cleared his throat against the next one. His depth perception was shot. Turning his face away from his brother, he bit back the next three sobs because he couldn’t stop the tears from coming… to his right eye.
“Is something wrong?” A voice. That voice. Why did it have to be that voice?
“I don’t know.” Sam’s stomping feet moved away. “I think there’s something… really wrong with his eyes. He’s still not talking.”
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“Thanks.”
--
“How’s he doing?” Bobby.
“Not good. He’s not talking.”
“Physically?”
“Healing like textbook, they said.”
Right arm up, middle finger extended.
“I see he’s still Dean… just a mime, then?”
Waved his arm around, jutting his finger at their general direction.
“Nah, mimes have something to express. That’s the only communication he gives us.” Sam was already tired of Dean and his birds.
“Don’t the doctors ask him how his pain is?”
“Sure, and all he’ll give them is a nod or a head shake. Man… They gave him an eye test and he wouldn’t read it out. Just a thumbs up or a thumbs down.”
“When do the bandages come off?”
“A few days… a week. Just depends on if he keeps healing the way he does.”
“How bad is it, really?” Bobby lowered his voice but Dean could still hear him. “The damage?”
“We haven’t looked yet but the doctor… wants to talk about plastic surgery in a few months but…”
“He doesn’t have a few months.”
“Right.”
Dean threw his pillow at them and flipped them off again before rolling as far as he could onto his left side.
“So, he’s aware, he’s just being pissy… Sounds like him.” Bobby cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Cover that ass before I start charging admission to all the nurses in the hospital.” There was silence. “Excuse me, miss… there’s a patient in there who wants you to have a look at his ass. Maybe we can arrange a few viewings a day?”
“How about I get a blanket to throw over him?” The voice. There was some rustling. “Mr. Winchester, as nice as the view is, I’m gonna have to ask you to cover it or I’ll cover it for you.” Dean ignored the pain and turned his face into the mattress. A moment later, the blanket fell over his hip and thighs. “Has he spoken?”
“No.” Sam was pouting. “He’s with it though. Lucid enough to be himself without the words.”
“Maybe that’s a good sign.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out their voices. “Call me if you need any more help with your exhibitionist.” Then her voice lowered. “Sometimes, a bit of mild embarrassment will work to get the voice going. Just… call one of us before offering to show his can to the world.”
Bobby and Sam laughed… and it sounded good to Dean… for about a minute.
Dean sat up at midnight. He was alone. Sam had finally made good on his threat to go to the hotel if Dean wasn’t going to offer himself up as company worth having. Three days of ignoring both Sam and Bobby. None of them were talking about his options. That made the walls start to close in. Thoughts of what to do with himself for the next three months and doing it without Sam. Carefully, he rose from the bed. He stretched slightly. The skin pulled tight under the bandages. Sore from… everything, he walked three feet around the bed, pulling his IV stand with him. The windows didn’t friggin’ open. Gasping for air, he moved faster than he probably should have. Into the hallway, nearly knocking over a cart full of supplies and into the stairwell. The IV stand would slow him down on the stairs. He pulled the bag off the hook and carried it by his side. Up nine flights of stairs to the roof. The roof. Open space. Fresh air. Open… and he could breathe again.
Calming some, he hooked his bag on a bolt hanging off a vent, then gingerly leaned on the aging ledge, staring out onto some city that he didn’t know the name of. Lights went on but not forever… because nothing was forever. The hospital was slowly suffocating him. He’d often wondered in the past if there was some sort of ritual done while building a hospital that allowed a piece of someone’s soul to be taken just by crossing the threshold. Every moment inside its walls took another piece; every moment that Sam hovered or held up one-sided conversation. Bringing Bobby by hadn’t helped anyone… except maybe letting Sam share the load.
So what if he didn’t feel like talking. What was there to talk about? His options were pretty limited these days. And he only had 89 of those left. He couldn’t hunt. No one had said it yet but Dean had known for six days that he couldn’t hunt anymore… not without his depth perception. He couldn’t even have fun anymore. No one had said anything but the looks from nurses when they changed his bandages had said enough. Pity. He probably looked like the phantom of the opera… or Two-Face, Batman’s arch-enemy.
A breeze kicked up sending cool air through his hair. He relaxed so much, he nearly fell when he realized that someone had walked up behind him. Her hands caught him around the ribs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Mr. Winchester,” her and her voice, standing behind him, holding him upright, “but I felt I should tell you that… as well-sculpted a posterior you have… it’s currently exposed to the world.” She released his ribs and began tying off the loose ends of his gown. He stayed very still when she moved away. “So you’re up and about, huh? Feeling better, I guess.” She chattered away, making herself comfortable somewhere to his right. “I saw you heading out, so I changed out your sheets, and I got you a fresh gown. Geez, it is beautiful up here. Wish I had thought to come up here for air, myself.” He could feel her eyes boring holes into the side of his face. “Still not talking, though. I get it. You’re the strong, silent type. Guess you’re something of a night owl, huh.”
Dean kept his gaze on the skyline. It looked vaguely familiar, also blurry, but he didn’t want to know where he was. He just wanted to be lost for the next 89 days. “I’ve talked some with your brother. He’s a nice kid. Loves you a lot. He’s worried about you… frankly, so are the doctors. You’ve lost some weight and I will be the first to admit that the cafeteria food kind of bites but you need to keep your strength up.” When he didn’t respond, she moved to stand next to him. “I feel you need to know that… the doctors are very concerned. Your brother and I know that you’re in there. You’re willing to respond physically and apparently, in your own voice that way… Dr. Gilbert wants to send you up for a psych evaluation. He feels you have some sort of post-traumatic stress. Maybe that’s true but it’s not accurate. I’m not a doctor but I think that if you really had something to say, you’d say it.”
She moved to sit on the ledge but his right hand shot out and stopped her. “What? Am I too close to you?” Swallowing down a lump, he nudged her back and then with a flick of his hand, sent the top brick on the ledge falling to the ground. “Oh. Um… thanks.” She stared down at the brick where it had broken in two on the ground below. “I guess we are high up… but don’t worry. I’m not going to tell Dr. Gilbert. He’d just say you were suicidal and I don’t think that’s true.” She pulled out a pen and a notepad. “Can you just… tell me why you came up here?”
He just closed his eyes, put his right hand on his chest and took a deep breath. “For air, huh. Any reason you needed air? Couldn’t catch your breath?” Hesitantly, he took her pen and wrote one word. Sam. “Oh, first night he wasn’t right on top of you, right? I guess I might panic a bit myself.” She took the pen back from him. “Guess it’s hard to be someone’s hero like that.” He must have given away his surprise at her statement because she tilted her head at him. “You didn’t know? He talks about you like you’re the second coming or something. Granted, he is annoyed by your bullheadedness but it’s very clear he admires you a great deal.” She offered him a small smile. “If you want, I’ll hover tonight in his place.” He turned his face away from her. He started to walk away but his knees buckled a bit. “I think it’s time to get you back to bed. You’re weak because you don’t eat. I can go get you something but I need you back in bed.” He nodded as his vision swam. She appeared under his right arm. She unhooked his IV bag from the bolt and looped her right thumb through it. Her left arm wrapped around his back, her left shoulder in his armpit. “Okay. Now let’s take it slow. There are three flights of stairs until we get to a floor where there’s an elevator and then another floor until I can get a wheelchair. Just drape your arm over my shoulders.” His breath quickened just a bit at the feel of soft hair against his arm, breasts against his rib cage, and it was all he could do not to turn his face to hers and just… “You just hang on to me and I’ll do all the work.”
His face must have betrayed his thoughts because her eyebrow shot up. “I take it that this is not the first time a woman has said that to you.” He shrugged and managed a grin on the right side of his face. They moved slowly and his vision began to right itself. The stairs were a slow procession. Her right hand gripped his right hand to steady him against her. After one flight, she sat them down to rest. “You know, you’re so much more handsome when you smile. You should do that more.” He turned his face away from her, any hint of a grin was gone. She nodded and squeezed his hand. “I think I get it now. How about we try another set of stairs?”
They only made it down one more before he had to rest. He pushed her away and leaned heavily against the wall. He flinched when she touched his shoulder. “Mr. Winchester… adrenaline from the panic got you onto the roof. You were up there long enough for it to wear off. You need to take your time getting back to your room.” She leaned into him and rubbed his back. “Just take deep breaths. Maybe you were a strong person before you had your accident but you were exhausted when you came in. You’re still recovering because healing is a drain on your resources, especially when you’re not eating.”
When her hands went to the stethoscope in her pocket, he grabbed them to stop her. He shook his head. “Well, tough. You’re acting worse than my five-year-old nephew.” She unsnapped his shoulder and placed the cold end against his sternum. “Not too fast but you’ll be happy to know it’s steady and strong.” She sat there and rested an elbow on a knee. “So… I said the wrong thing. It happens but I won’t apologize for it. You coming with me or do I need to find a security guard to help you back to your room?” He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the cool bar. “Mr. Winchester—”
Dean snapped his fingers at her and motioned with his hand that he wanted to write. She passed the pen and notepad to him and then blinked at it for a moment when he handed it back. “Mr. Winchester. Dad. Dean. Me.” He nodded, shutting his eyes at the sound of his name in her voice. “Okay, then. Dean, let’s get going. We’re almost there. Just one more flight of stairs and then I can get you a wheelchair. Then I can push you back to your room. Maybe I’ll find Jacob to give you a sponge-down and then you can get to sleep.” She eyed his expression as he absorbed her words. “Well, I’m not going to give you a sponge bath. Besides, I thought you were mad at me.”
He shrugged and took a deep breath before sitting up. She snapped his shoulder back up and counted off to get them to their feet. Step after step, they made it down the flight of stairs and didn’t stop at the door. She leaned him against the wall and raced down the hall to pull a wheelchair from behind a supply cart. Dean really didn’t want to sit in that chair but he also didn’t want to walk any further. He landed in the chair and let her put his feet on the footrests. She pushed him confidently down to the elevator. “See, that wasn’t so bad. I’d bet money that you don’t let anyone help you and if it hadn’t been for me following you, that you would have caught your death up there.” He shrugged. “Uh-huh. Mules got nothing on your stubbornness.”
Dean endured the ride in silence but she didn’t seem to like silence. “So, Dean, huh. Uncommon name. Do you do this to your brother? Or your uncle?” A shrug. “Okay, you know… this game gets tiring and I might expect it from—” She paused as she pushed him onto his floor. “A child but you’re what? 25?” He shook his head. “Come on.” He flicked his fingers up at her. “29, huh. Such a baby face. Still… this whole strong, silent—“
She stopped a foot from his room. She could see someone walking around in there. “He’s not in his room, kid… how would I know? He’s your brother… Sam, calm down. We’ll find him. He couldn’t have gone far with all the drugs they’ve been pumping into him… No, it’s not… No, when he was five, he did the same thing… Yes, he did… and yes, I did know you guys back then… He stopped talking after your mother passed and when he was five, he ran off on your dad… found him asleep in the Impala… well, I didn’t say he’d be there now. He’s not five.”
“Do you want to go in?” She whispered in his ear. After a beat, he nodded. She pushed him around the doorframe into the room. “Oh, hi Mr. Singer. We went for a walk. It’s a nice night out.”
“He asked for a walk?” Bobby raised an eyebrow at the silent man in the chair.
“Not so much.” She shook her head and lowered the footrests to get him to his feet. “Dean, do you want me to change your gown now or would you like a shower first?” His eyes lit up at the thought of a shower. “Okay. I’ll get Jacob in here to help you with that. You behave for your uncle or I will be back.”
“Like threats work on him.” Bobby snorted. “And one like that would definitely have him kicking up a fuss.” He put his phone back to his ear. “He’s back. Maybe you should get up here before he punches an orderly.” He eyed the nurse and his ‘nephew’ for a long moment. “Looks like he’s got another nurse under his thrall.” That time, Dean snorted and shook his head, turned away from the nurse. “Well, he’s your brother so you get him to take a shower.” He closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket. “You can’t write a note so that he knows where you’re gonna be?”
“All right. I’ll leave you boys be. Don’t be too noisy or I’ll make you all leave.” She made a few marks in Dean’s chart, then left them alone.
--
When Dean woke, he waited until his vision cleared enough to see Sam sitting beside his bed. “Don’t let her come in here anymore.” With that said, he rolled onto his back to force away the memories of his dreams where she slid her hands over his at dinner; where she conspired with him to get real food some place away from his vegan brother; where she knew his favorite beer and just what to say and just how to kiss his worries away.
“Dean?” Sam jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He whipped his head around. “Don’t let who in?”
“Carmen.” Dean croaked out and then turned his eyes to the window. Sky, miles and miles of it. “I don’t want her in here, anymore.”
“Um…”
“Morning, handsome. You going for another walk tonight?” The nurse in question bounded into the room and took his chart off the wall. “I’m not on, so things could get hairy with the staff that will be here tonight.” She looked to them, her tone and words bright but her smile strained and weary. “You’re not too tired out, are you?”
“Sam.” Dean whispered and kept his face turned away. “Please.”
“He’s talking! When did that start?” Carmen exclaimed, her smile going from forced to natural in an instant.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Sam stood abruptly and guided the confused nurse out. “What happened last night?”
“Just what I said happened.”
“He hasn’t spoken in days, almost weeks… and the first thing he says to me is that he doesn’t want you coming in his room anymore. You explain that to me.”
“Nothing happened. He had a panic attack last night because you weren’t here. He went to the roof and he tired himself out. I just helped him back to his room. Jacob helped him shower and he went back to bed. That’s all I know. I haven’t been back into his room until just now.”
“How can I believe that?” Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t like Dean had said anything specific… but knowing Dean… “I don’t know what happened between the two of you but I don’t think that having sexual relations with patients is—“
“Whoa!” She crossed her arms. “Did he tell you that?”
“Well, no.”
“How dare you suggest that? Do you know your brother at all?” She glared at him. “I can’t do or say the slightest thing without him blushing so red he looks like a lobster.”
“Are we talking about the same person?” Sam blinked at her.
“He’s shy.”
“Clearly, one of us fell on our heads and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. My brother doesn’t have a shy bone in his body. He’s usually out catting…” Then the sentence died in his mouth. He turned to look at his brother’s back where he was curled up on the bed. “He used to cat around a lot… I… I forget because the bandages are still on.” Sam turned and leaned against the wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest anything about you but understand that my brother has gotten us into all sorts of trouble because of his sexual escapades. It’s been a fact of my life since he lost his virginity.”
“What are you talking about, exactly?”
“He relies on his good looks… a lot. Normally, he’d have charmed every woman of every age on this floor. He’d have the hospital rigged for his convenience. He communicates with me… in his way but I forget he wasn’t talking until just now. He…”
“He’s lost.” She nodded.
“Right. He won’t know what to do without his face. I’m sorry, again…”
“He’s very depressed. I didn’t tell the doctor about his trip up to the roof and maybe I should have.”
“You’re his type. If he’d only and really lost his tongue, I have no doubt he’d sleep with every woman in this hospital within a week or two. It’s all he needs. A look and women just… fall all over him.”
“Well, he’s still got that going for him. He’ll be okay, Sam. He’s adjusting. When the bandages come off, he’s going to be… overwhelmed. I think maybe he’s already thinking about what he’s going to look like. It’s probably not that bad.” She patted his arm. “He thinks things are hopeless but there are more things to a man than his face.”
“Not to my brother there isn’t… he’s a misogynistic prick… and somehow…”
“I don’t quite believe that but he’s your brother. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Yeah… I’ll talk to him but… maybe he just thinks you’re too pretty to have around him. He didn’t say anything about anyone else. Just you in particular.”
She frowned at him. “Really? What’d he say? ‘Don’t let that mean bitch from last night in my room again’?”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “He said ‘don’t let her in here anymore’ and I asked who and he said ‘Carmen’… you’re the only Carmen, right?”
“Yeah…” She shook her head and turned to go. “huh.”
Sam shook his head at the absolute glee on his brother’s face as he shimmied into a pair of boxers four days after his jaunt to the roof. “No more free shows for the nurses?”
“They’ll have to pay now. I swear… There’s no good reason for a man’s ass to hang out like that.” Dean plopped back onto the bed. 85. The number kept up a loop in his head, like a train on a track. “I’m so glad you told them to cut back on the drugs. I was getting seriously looped out.”
“Well… I figured that maybe… it would help… but how are the dreams, Dean?”
“What dreams?”
“Your dreams.”
“When are you and Bobby gonna get a hunt going?” Dean got up and dug around in his duffle for some pants. Eighty-five. Eighty-five. 85. Eight. Five. “You’re just wasting resources sitting here with me. You should be out hunting down evil.”
“What? Are you redirecting me?”
“Doing what?”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I asked you one. I’m older… and injured… therefore my question is more important.” He wanted a shirt too but his bandages had to stay on. “Where are my socks, man?”
“In there somewhere. Look, man. We’re not going hunting without you and you need to talk about these dreams that have you waking up like… I don’t know… like you wish this world was just a nightmare…”
“First off… I’m done with hunting. My eyes are shot. Second. You are perfectly healthy and able… so get to it… There’s still plenty that needs killing. Three. I don’t want you with me at the end… and Four! That’s none of your damn business.”
“Wait, what?” Sam’s jaw dropped. “What? No! You think I’m just going to leave you alone now?”
“Look… I have limited options… I’m gonna look like hamburger when these things come off. Just… keep fighting the good fight and let me die in peace.”
“Ellen and I are on to something. You can’t just give up.”
“Yeah, I can.” Dean shoved his feet into his boots and yanked his gown off. “Look… if I try to get out of the deal… you drop dead on the spot and I didn’t sell my soul to see you dead.”
“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place!”
“If I hadn’t done it… you’d be dead now and I…” Dean trailed off, tears forming in his eyes. He gripped his brother by the shoulders. “My whole life… I’ve never been without you, not really… what do you think I’d do if you were gone?”
“What about me? My whole life, I’ve had you looking after me. What am I going to do? What am I supposed to do knowing that you’re dead because of me?” He shook off his brother’s arms.
“I needed you. I did. If I had to face him on my own… I would have let him take me.”
“Fuck you, Dean! Fuck you to hell and back! Dad really fucked you up, you know that?” Sam turned around to avoid looking at his brother. “You just can’t not try. I need you, too. What do I do after I hunt all those demons down? What do I do? Just… settle down somewhere? Have kids and tell them their Uncle Dean is in hell so that I could have that chance?”
“Maybe.” Dean sniffed and wiped at his eye.
“It’s Hell, Dean. Torment for all eternity and you want me to be okay with you in actual Hell?” Sam couldn’t take it anymore and left the room.
“Leave my car here!” Dean called after him and sank onto the bed staring at the empty doorway. Didn’t bother finding a shirt. Just sat still until the doctor walked in to remove the bandages. He wouldn’t look at the nurse.
The doctor frowned. “Looks like there was some trauma to the burns on his shoulder. Did you walk into a wall, Dean?”
He just shook his head. The doctor sighed and worked to irrigate the irritated flesh and to rebandage the area. “I think you should keep the arm, shoulder and chest bandaged so that the ointment doesn’t get on your clothes.” Dean nodded, silently. The doctor frowned and looked to his nurse. “Where’s the brother?”
“He’s gone.” Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Just talk to me, doc. I want to get out of here.”
“I really don’t advise this but if you can’t be swayed…” He took a deep breath to begin again. “Your eyesight may improve, Dean but it will never be perfect again.” The doctor flashed a light in the damaged eye. “You will need corrective lenses in order to drive or even read but until you see an ophthalmologist… I couldn’t tell you the extent of it.”
“Do they make glasses with just one Magoo lens?” Dean cracked lamely.
“The burns on your cheek have healed to an extent that I believe eating will come easier in the days to come. It’s very important to intake the proper nutrients. If you’re not hungry, a protein shake would be a wise choice. Wash your hands constantly and avoiding the sun will go a long way to improving the skin. It will take time. In a few months even, you will see…” he trailed off as he realized his patient was no longer listening. “I think that you should see someone about getting help. The adjustment period may not be easy.”
“I don’t need a shrink. I’ll just rent The Man Without A Face and watch Mel Gibson go.”
“I know you didn’t want to talk when we went over this the first time but I think we need a discussion now.” The doctor pulled a chair up to the bed. “The burns you sustained are consistent with sulfuric acid. Flash burns are caused by intensely hot exposure to radiation, which is different than an acid burn but… I wish you could remember the accident. I can’t follow a splash pattern and there’s nothing but the consistency that suggests the flash burn… It really is a puzzle.” He took a breath. “Do you remember what it felt like?”
“Hellfire and brimstone.” Dean had spaced and answered automatically. He almost pulled a lame joke to cover but the doctor seemed to accept that as an answer.
“Yeah… yeah, I guess it would feel that way. How is the pain?”
“Nothing a little codeine won’t help with.”
“You’ve been on stronger painkillers.” The doctor pointed out, referring to the chart in his hands.
“I don’t want to get hooked and I’m okay on codeine. I’ve had it before.”
“If it looks infected, I want to see you before it means amputation or further excising of the flesh.”
“I know the signs.” Dean nodded and pulled a T-shirt from his bag.
“Keep the splints on the elbow and shoulder and keep up your physio… at home if you won’t come back here.” When he saw nothing but impatience on the right side of his patient’s face, he nodded. “I’ll do the ‘scripts.” The doctor waved him off. The nurse lingered and helped without being asked.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as she slid his shirt sleeve over his bandaged arm, then over his head.
Kneeling, she tied the laces on his boots, fixing the tops of his socks while she was at it. “Going home, huh?”
“Out of here.” He shrugged. He fished his necklace out of his bag and tried to loop it over his head but he kept missing. She took it from him and carefully hung it around his neck. She caught the charm and turned it over.
“That’s interesting.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I can honestly say that I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“And you probably won’t after I leave.” Eighty-five. Eighty-five. Eighty-five.
“You know… it’s not as bad as you think. The way you and your brother fight, you’d think it was the end of the world and your life was over.”
He took his necklace back, suppressing a flinch at the feel of her fingers under his. “You always listen in on other people’s conversations?”
“It’s not listening in if the astronauts can hear the fight.” She pointed out as she set out his jacket and gathered his bag for him. His wallet fell out and hit the floor, sending its contents onto the state issue linoleum. “How about you get in the chair and I pick that up?” She bent to gather the bills and cards.
Dean waited a beat to enjoy the view and snapped himself out of it. He sat in the chair, pulling his bag with him. When she straightened slowly, he waited and waited for her to give him his wallet. She tilted her head and held out a piece of shiny paper. He knew what it was. He had forgotten it was in there. He hadn’t needed to look at it when she walked passed his door every day and night. Her hand shook as she held it out to him. “Is this why you didn’t want me in your room?” She lifted it to her face. “This is not even in circulation anymore.”
He looked away. She looked hurt and confused and it was his fault for keeping what he could of that world his mind had told him was perfection. “No, I know you can talk now. Why are you carrying this around?” Heat crept up his face.
Sam strolled into the room and tilted his head at his brother’s red face. “Dude, did you swallow Rudolph or something?” Then he felt the tension in the room. “Dude?” She tossed the ad at Dean, threw his wallet at him and left the room. Sam stepped further into the room. “You don’t so much as look at her for a week and the first conversation you have with her…” he let out a low whistle and grabbed the paper off the floor. “Holy sh--! Is this her? What did you do? Try to pick her up with this thing?”
“I didn’t do anything…” Dean lowered his head. “Let’s just get out of here.”
--
Dean stared up at the building, if it could be called that. “Here?”
“You insisted on staying here. This is what I could find in your budget.” Sam put the car in park and got out. “It’s temporary… until you come to your senses.”
“Thought maybe the crappiest place in town would make me change my mind?”
“I put up your lunch money and your prescription cash. Bobby put in the month’s rent. You want to stay longer, get a job.”
Dean followed his brother up the staircase to the apartment over the garage of some decrepit-looking house. It was clean but Ellen appearing from the bathroom with her hair in a ponytail and a scrub brush in her hand was probably the cause of that. “Hi, honey. How you feeling?”
“Be better with some of that morphine… and you know… a face.” Dean shrugged, his bandages rustling under his shirt and jacket.
Ellen nodded to herself. “I’m almost done in here. Got you some clothes. When Sam said you’d be sticking around here, I figured you’d need more than just a few sets to see you through a week or two. I didn’t know your size… Kind of had to go off the stuff you already had…”
Dean rifled through a couple of drawers of his brand of boxer-briefs, some undershirts and socks without holes in them. Then he scanned the closet full of hoodies and long-sleeve shirts. He had a ‘90s flashback for a moment and just thanked whoever was listening that forest green, gold, red and black were not mixed together on any one of those hoodies. Fashion from ’83 to ’95 should be stricken from everyone’s memory, just to be polite. “Thanks, Ellen.”
She tossed the scrub brush under the sink. “I sanitized the place, got you some groceries. I checked out the neighborhood.”
“It’s not safe, I know.” Sam bit out, anticipating his brother’s gripes.
“Not the safest, no… but I reckon Dean can take care of himself.” Ellen waved off Sam’s ire. They had already been over this and there would be no more fighting over it. “There’s a pharmacy about six blocks away.” She gestured with her shoulder and a head jerk in the direction. Hunters knew how to give directions North, South, East, West. Dean would figure it out. “A convenience store across the street from that. Two blocks over is a market. Bobby found a TV and bought a cheapie DVD player at a pawn shop four blocks the other way, which is next to a movie rental place. Bobby brought a bunch of menus of places that deliver.”
“Ellen?”
“Yeah, Dean?”
“I’m 29, not 9.”
“Come sit.” Ellen instructed and watched him trudge over to a pair of mix-matched chairs set near a card table. Without asking, she shoved him into a chair and began pulling at the bandages on his face. She put a knee in his gut to keep him still while she made her inspection. “Skin grafts?” Dean nodded but turned his eye away, moisture welling. “Looks like they took some flesh out.” Another nod. “Okay, sweetie. I had to see it for myself.” She removed her knee and pulled the other chair up to sit directly in front of him. “I know you don’t like the way it looks now but… know that it was worse a couple of weeks ago. Sam and I are working on a way out of this deal, whether you like it or not.” Dean nodded slowly. “Maybe it’s better that you sit still a while. There’s a park seven blocks that way, in a better neighborhood. Good place to get some air and do some physio in the shade. Got you a dart board, sport. Once you get your glasses, you can practice.”
It was like having a mother again… or maybe not a mother but an awesome aunt. Dean blinked away the moisture in his eye. “Sam, I’m gonna go find the pharmacy. Stay a while, huh?”
“I’ll go.” Sam leapt off the wall he was holding up. Ellen shook her head at him.
“He’s gotta find his own way, Sam. I’ll get dinner on the table.” Ellen held her hand out for Dean. “What they got you on?”
“Tylenol-codeine for the pain.” Dean rifled through the scripts, shutting his bad eye so he could make out the doctor’s bad handwriting. “Eye drops for the bad eye. Ointment for the grafts and burns. List of approved dietary supplements cause…”
“He hasn’t been eating and he needs the nutrients anyway because… well, because.” Sam shrugged but hovered in the doorway.
“I’m surprised you’re not on something stronger for the pain.” Ellen tsked.
“I asked for it.” Dean reassured her.
“He acts like Speedy Gonzales on crack on codeine anyway.” Sam snorted.
“I need your wallet.” Dean stood and shucked his jacket. He grabbed a light hoodie from the closet but didn’t put it on. Sam reluctantly gave Dean all the cash that was in it. Dean counted the cash from his wallet and put it all together. “Guess I’m gonna have to learn how to budget if this shit is expensive to get at the pharmacy.”
“Yeah.” Sam managed a laugh at the pained expression on his brother’s face. The look said ‘damn, if only I’d paid attention in math of money’ and ‘budgets are for geeks like you’ alternatively.
Dean escaped the claustrophobic confines of his new home. A block away, he pulled on the hoodie and smoothed the hood over his face. She had taken his bandages but given him a socially-acceptable alternative. Thank God for Ellen Harvelle. For the next five blocks, his footsteps kept him company. Eighty-five. Eighty-five. Eighty-five. He absently stretched his left shoulder. It, too, complained in similar fashion. Eighty-five. Eighty-five.
He knew he had a light sheen of sweat on his face when he reached the pharmacy. There was a line and a wait. Head down, he kicked around the aisles and avoided human contact where at all possible. He didn’t realize what was happening until his vision swam with spots. He grabbed a shelf to steady himself. Breathe, he told himself. After an agonizing moment, he took in a huge gasping breath. After six of those, his vision returned and focused on a case of Ensure. At least there were flavors. He picked up one in every flavor in case one or another sucked. Then he felt the shaking in his hands. Fuck it all. He popped one little bottle off its ring and had to sit on the floor to open the damned thing. He gulped half and waited awhile before sipping the rest. The shaking subsided. A couple of customers stepped over him and didn’t give him a second glance.
When he heard his name called, he stood slowly and carried his mess with him. The pharmacist rang him up and didn’t even bat an eye at the six-minus-one item. What gave the pharmacist pause was the condition of the customer and the meds he was handing out. “I think we need to call your doctor on this one.” He held back the Tylenol-3 and reached for the phone.
“No, I asked for it.”
“Son, this is not going to help you with the pain.” The pharmacist leaned on the counter to peer under the hood. “I’m not a doctor but these little things are not going to help.”
“It’s doctor approved,” her voice came from somewhere behind him. “I was his floor nurse. Dr. Gilbert had his concerns but they could agree on that script.”
“Hi, Carmen.” The pharmacist set the phone back down. He tapped the bottle on the counter. “This is a low dose. What was Wes thinking?”
“That I have to do for myself and I can’t be drooling my life away.” Dean bit out. He downed the remainder of the shake he’d opened and almost tossed it at the trash can a few feet away but clenched it in his fist, instead. He stepped closer and guided the bottle into the can before returning to the counter where Nurse Carmen and Pharmacist Dumbass were discussing his meds. He cut in. He was tired and he didn’t actually know if he could make the six blocks back to his apartment. “Look, the morphine knocked me on my ass. As it is… codeine makes me act like a speed junky. I don’t even take it as prescribed. I do three in a day. Not four or six or whatever the bottle says. I just want to go home.”
Pharmacist Dumbass looked to Carmen, who shrugged. He handed over the bottle, then scribbled his number on a bag. “You call me if you think that stuff isn’t cutting it after you’ve increased to the correct dosage.”
“Whatever.” Dean counted out the cash and slapped it on the counter. Didn’t wait for change or a receipt. He only made it to a bench outside before he had to rest. He felt like he was going to puke from the heat but he didn’t dare take his hood off.
“A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”
“I didn’t need your help.” Dean sat back on the bench but didn’t look at her.
“You know what, Winchester?” Carmen stepped into his line of sight. “You’re a prick. I was very close to forgiving you. I figured it was fate because I saw you sitting on the floor of a drugstore on the verge of passing out. I figured… that’s what I was supposed to do. I don’t know what your damage is but I wash my hands of you. Have a nice life.”
“Bye,” Dean muttered as she stomped away, and looked at his bag. It was going to be heavy to carry six blocks home. He opened the pill bottle and popped one into his mouth. He washed it down with strawberry flavored Ensure. Damn… that shit tasted better than it had when he was a kid. He felt the rumble in his bones about a minute before the Impala turned the corner. Sam sat and didn’t look at him. “That’s my car.”
“You can’t drive it, Blinky,” Sam called out but didn’t look at him.
“You can borrow my car… for three months. And then you have to hand it over to Ellen.”
“What?” Sam screeched and threw the car in park. He was grinding his teeth as he loomed over his brother. “Ellen gets your car? What happens when you get some glasses?”
“Dude…” Dean sighed. “I know you guys are looking and… I appreciate it but… I’m dead in 85 days. So… for 85 days, you take care of Baby. Then Ellen gets her.”
“Why Ellen?” Sam tried to let his anger go but he figured if he kept Dean talking, there would be some talking some sense into him. “Why not Bobby?”
“Bobby? Is a Ford man. Ford. I mean… Not Bobby.” Dean sipped his shake but didn’t make a move to get off the bench. “No Ford-lover will own my Chevy.” He kept his head level enough to keep the hood securely on his head but did make an effort to look at his brother. “Ellen doesn’t have much left. After Jo…”
“Dude… Jo was not your fault.”
“Yeah, well… I don’t have a daughter and the only person I love near as much as she loved Jo… well… I can’t give you to her… I’ll give her the Impala.”
“Dude… shut up.” Sam shook his head, the heat of his anger dissipated with his brother’s skewed reasoning.
“Do me a favor…” Dean cleared his throat. “In the event that you aren’t successful… when I die… I’ll be here. Don’t come in 84 days. Come in 86. Just… give me a day. Okay? Don’t be here when the hounds come for me.”
“Dean…” There went his anger again.
“I mean it… I don’t want you here when the Hellhound comes for me. Just wait a day, then you come do the salt and burn or… whatever other pansy shit you’re gonna do.” He licked his dry lips and felt a little cooler when a stray breeze whipped up his hoodie and over the sweat drying on his face. “Stick with Ellen, man. You might not need her or anything like that… but even giving her the Impala is not enough for me. I was joking about giving you to her but… She’s a mom, dude. Let her feel useful.”
“Is that why you let her clean up the place and buy you stuff and stick a knee in your gut?”
“Yeah.” Dean laughed with his brother. “Still can’t believe she did that.”
“I can.” Sam sat next to his brother. “It’s really not that bad. I mean… I know that it’s… not your face anymore but… it could have been much, much worse.”
“We’re not gonna go all Oprah on a bus stop bench. Come on. Let’s get back. Ellen will be pissed if you don’t eat what she cooked.”
“Me? What about you?”
“You’re eating mine, too. So she doesn’t feel bad. Seriously… I can’t eat.” He waved the bottle in his hand at his brother. “I’ll take care of myself, Sammy… but I gotta… stay put.”
“Come on. She’s the one that sent me after you. I was gonna leave your stubborn ass on whatever corner you passed out on.”
Eighty-four. Eighty-four. Dean listened to the Impala purr out the time. He watched it disappear around the corner. He leaned in the doorway for another five minutes before he let the noise behind him rile him up. “You should have gone with him.”
“Honey… Sam’s a big boy. He can take out one little demon without me. Besides. I want to make sure you’re settled in and really okay before I leave you here.” She wiped down the table before tossing the washrag in the sink. “How many pancakes did you have?”
Dean turned, his back against the doorframe, hood up over his head. “One.”
“You made Sam eat his five and your other three?” Ellen threw her head back and laughed. “And after you made him eat your chicken last night. He’ll burst before he hits the highway.”
“He can handle it. He used to eat all that for lunch when he was 15.” Dean shook his head at the memory of filling a teenaged belly. “He had two backpacks for school. One for books and one for a feedbag.”
“I’ll bet John got a kick out of that.” She took a cup of coffee to him and leaned against the other side of the frame. She caught his shake of the head as he took a sip of his coffee. “No?”
“It was costly. A loaf of bread would last the two of us, two days… three if I didn’t eat a meal or two… which I did sometimes if Dad was gone on a hunt and money was tight.”
“You were… 19? Surely you could get a job… Hell, John hustled the best of my regulars.”
“You can only hustle so many times in a bar before the locals catch on and if we stayed a semester or six-weeks for Sam…” Dean scoffed at the memories. “Couple of places ignored my fake ID the first four or five times in. Five or seven hustles… you know? But after the second brawl, they would suddenly discover the fake and ban me. I could have gotten a job… but then I couldn’t get away to take care of him.”
“You did a fine job of him, Dean. He’s his dad all over but he was lucky to have you. You could have hit 18 and decided to be done with it all. Run off. Hunted on your own. Gone to school yourself…”
“Never considered it. When I hit 18, he was 13 and… he was already butting heads with Dad. If I had left… they would have killed each other.”
“Usually the mother is the buffer for father and son. Usually she’s the buffer for the father and the oldest son.” Ellen led him on and took a long sip of her coffee. Dean didn’t take the bait. “I used to rail on your dad for treating you kids the way he did. Hell, I hadn’t seen him for at least fifteen years when the two of you chuckleheads stumbled into my bar… and I still felt a little mad at him for all he’d done…”
“Dad did what he had to with us.”
“I know that. Don’t make it right. Dean, if a stranger overheard us telling tales on Sam and Jo… they’d think we were a pair of weathered parents. You’re 29 years old… too young to be talking about ornery teenagers and balancing the needs of a child with your own sacrifices. Should have been your dad doing that.”
“I did what needed to be done.”
“Jesus, Dean.” She stepped over his legs to get to the landing outside his front door. The neighborhood was quiet enough… but rundown enough that no one would ask questions about a man with a burned face living above a garage. Hell, the landlord was damn cheap and probably spent the rent money on weed. She could see a patch of grass between two houses that was passing for a local playground. It didn’t even have swings; just a slide and a see-saw. “Everybody should get to see their child smile up at them like…” She couldn’t stop her smile from coming and going. “Best time of my life… spending time with my Joanna Beth at the park when Bill was minding the bar. She would look at me and I would just… get choked up. Didn’t know what I ever did to deserve someone so young looking up at me like I was… Wonder Woman or something.”
“Don’t worry. I got that.”
She spun around so fast, her coffee cup fell down to the driveway with a crack. “What’s that?”
“He’s nine years old, now. Takes after me and I’ll be damned if I know how. I only met him the one time.” Dean shrugged and pushed off the frame. “Ten years ago… one night stand.” A rush of heat crept up his face. He’d never told a woman what he’d done and all of a sudden it was embarrassing. Shameful. “It’s better if… you know… especially now.”
“Oh, honey. When did you find out?”
“Months back… it was after my deal.” He offered his cup of coffee to finish. She took it and had a deep swallow of the lukewarm brew. “Ben. He doesn’t know what I am to him. I feel like shit about it but… you know? He’s safer being so far away from me.”
Ellen handed him the empty cup. “Go pour me a new cup. I’ll go rescue the remains of that one.”
Dean nodded and returned to his little kitchen to pour her the last of the coffee. He had just set it down on the card table when it hit him. The lack of air available. Breathe. Breathe! Dammit, Dean! Then Ellen filled his view. She shoved back his hood and cupped his face between her hands. “Dean! Breathe! Breathe!” His knees buckled and she followed him down. Forcing his mouth open, she blew a hard breath in. It caught in his throat. He tried to cough and then suddenly he got the cough out and air shot into his lungs once more. His vision swam for a few minutes. He could feel Ellen’s staccato heartbeat under his ear. “That’s it, honey. That’s it. Breathe. Breathe.”
He focused on getting air in and out of his lungs. She had one hand against the back of his head and the other rubbing circles on his back. Finally, he seemed to be calming down. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” He shook his head. “What happened, Dean?”
It took all his strength to push away from her and to get out of her grasp. She rolled her eyes at him. “Get some rest, sweetie. I’m gonna go make some phone calls.”
“Don’t call Sam back here.”
“I won’t. You just get some rest. And take that damned hood off when you’re in the house. You ain’t got nothing that’ll scare me off.”
--
Dean woke with a jerk. Eighty-two. Eighty-two. His heart pumped out the rhythm. Sweat poured down his face and damned if he couldn’t breathe again. It was already too late. His vision swam. “Sam.” Was that his voice? It was the last sound he got out. Then there were hands on him, a body against his. Ellen.
“Sweetie, calm down. Calm down.” She rubbed his chest and rocked him slightly. “Come on, Dean. Breathe.”
“El—“ He gasped and coughed so hard he thought he’d puke… if he’d eaten anything to throw up.
“Come on, honey. Don’t fight it. Just breathe.” It felt like an eternity before he could breathe again. Long slow breaths filled with Ellen’s breath and her perfume from that morning. Slowly, he lifted his head, hands braced on her thighs. He relaxed his fingers’ hold, vaguely worried about bruising her up. She cupped his face and made him look at her. “You okay, honey?”
When he nodded slowly, her lips crashed against his in a firm, warm kiss. He didn’t even think. His hands slid around her back and deepened it into something less than chaste. Kissed her until he thought he’d lose his breath again. Forehead to forehead, they caught their breath together. He gasped in successful breaths. His voice caught when he tried to speak. “El-len.”
“Hey, sweetie. No… no, don’t. Come on. Get some sleep.” She took a deep breath and righted his pillow, urging him back down. He lay down as instructed and when she shifted her weight to move, his hand caught her wrist.
“Please, don’t,” he whispered.
“Okay. I’ll stay.” She grabbed her pillow from her makeshift bed and propped it against the wall before settling in because she knew that Dean would be on top of her before he fell asleep. He tried at first to stay on his side of the bed, his back to her. Then he tried sleeping on his back. Then he had gotten pissed and whipped his shirt across the room. She’d had to bite her lip against a laugh. “Dean, just come here.”
He eyed her warily before scooting in to rest his head on her shoulder. Ellen ran a rhythm through his hair with one hand and traced soothing circles on a smooth and perfect shoulder blade with the other. He was asleep inside of ten minutes, allowing Ellen the following ten minutes to feel like a mother again… despite the doozy of a kiss the same had given her ten minutes prior to that.
--
Dean was gone when Ellen woke. There was a note about going for juice and eggs. There were nearly burned biscuits on the counter, still warm. Coffee hot in the percolator. She took a chair, her coffee and a biscuit to the landing to feel the sun on her face and to wait for that stubborn young man to return. Biscuit eaten, crumbs brushed away and coffee pot emptied, Dean still hadn’t returned. Ellen washed up and cleaned what needed it in the apartment. As the hours stacked up and Dean still hadn’t returned, she began to feel uneasy. Lunch, come and gone. Ellen picked up her phone and dialed Dean’s cell phone. She got the voice mail after ten rings. “Dean Winchester… I swear to God…” She snapped it shut and started to slam things around.
Then the phone rang in her hand. “Dean? That you, hon?”
“Who am I speaking to?”
Ellen felt the blood drop right out of her face. She took a seat. “I could ask you the same thing. You’re not the person who belongs to that phone.”
“Ma’am. My name is Carmen. I’m a nurse at—“
“I’m coming.” Ellen snapped the phone shut and raced down the stairs to her truck. She didn’t remember how she got there but she climbed out of the truck and walked into the emergency room entrance. She wiped the worried tears from her face before stepping to the desk clerk. “I’m Ellen. Dean Winchester was brought in…”
“What relation are you?”
“Family friend… his family’s not in town. I’m the only one he’s got right now.” Ellen cleared her throat against a curse. “You Carmen?”
“No, just a minute… let me call upstairs.”
“Fuck you.” Ellen stormed out of the waiting area and into the nearest elevator. She followed a bunch of flowers to a nurses’ station and asked her question to a frowning nurse. “I’m Ellen. Is Dean Winchester on this floor?”
“Thank God.” The nurse let out a breath. “He just woke up.” She stepped around the desk and gestured for Ellen to follow her. “The doctor is in with him and he’s… he’s the Dean we know and tolerate. If you hadn’t tried to call him…” She handed Ellen the cracked cell phone. “Where’s Sam?”
“He had business to take care of. Out of town.” Ellen glanced down at the phone. It was a miracle the damned thing was still working. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Carmen peered into the little window on the door but the doctor was still talking. “I don’t know much. They brought him up here when they realized some of his burn-scabs had been broken. Have you been with him?”
“Yeah, I know all about his burns and… everything else. I was waiting on him to come back this morning…” Ellen shoved her hands into her hair. “But what happened to him?”
“Near as we can tell? He was jumped for his clothes. A concerned citizen found him behind a dumpster. Empty grocery bag over his head, no clothes save for his… boxers. Shoes and everything else gone. He… he was lying in the sun.”
Ellen shut her eyes. “But he’ll be okay?”
“Luckily, he hadn’t been there too long. We’ve had him on IV all day. We want to keep him overnight for observation. He suffered a pretty bad concussion. We’ve treated the sunburn as best we can but infection is a worry, now.”
“Thanks, kid,” Ellen told her. “I know the doctor wouldn’t have said boo and Dean only talks to me when I put a knee in his gut.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Carmen peered into the window once more. “How well do you know them?”
“Well enough not to answer questions like that.” Ellen saw Dean’s shaking head and sighed. “He’s one lucky son of a bitch… not that I ever knew his mama but she’d have to be to put up with that husband of hers. God rest both their souls.”
The door opened and Ellen scooted passed the doctor while he gave Carmen instructions. Ellen sat on the edge of the bed. “You okay?”
“I have to… get my strength back.” Dean’s gaze flicked to the doorway, hardened and then turned to the window. “Get her out of here.”
“In a minute, Dean. Tell me what happened.” He wouldn’t answer her. Ellen ran a finger down a bruise on his right cheek and the split in his lips. Just last night those lips had been whole and tasted sweet, but now they were cut and scabbed over. “Honey…”
“Dean?” Carmen poked her head in and slid some gloves on. “I need to check that gash again.”
“Gash?” Ellen echoed and shut her eyes against his face when he sat up. The pain in that expression.
“Do you want something for the pain?” she asked, pulling the gauze back to examine the area.
“NO,” Dean gritted out. Ellen took him in her arms. Let him bury his face in her neck.
“It’s okay, honey. You do what you have to do. I got him.” Ellen whispered over his head. Carmen knew her trade and some of the doctor’s it looked like. She was good but it was still a painful thing. Cleaning a cut was usually easy but Dean’s back still had some raw burns on it. Ellen did the only thing she knew how to do. Distract. “Let you steal a kiss for that panic attack, sweetie. If it needs stitches, maybe I’ll let you cop a feel later.”
Dean let out a bark of laughter, making him jerk and making Carmen’s hands slip. “Dammit, Ellen, don’t do that.”
“Don’t go thinking you’ll get a bed partner out of this, Winchester. I reserve that for men who don’t make a habit of chasing their blues with whiskey.”
“So, I win.” Dean winced when Carmen applied something cold to his back.
“Win what?”
“Sam thinks that you and Dad hooked up.” He cleared his throat. “I never thought so.”
“Sam… what an idiot.” Ellen ruffled Dean’s hair, lovingly. “Doesn’t he know the rules of seminary?”
“What?”
“John could make holy water… can only do that if you take the vow and I never knew John to break a vow…” She trailed off because he had broken quite a few.
“Never intentionally,” Dean promised as he straightened. “Okay… I get maybe you and Dad never hooking up but do you really think he’d been… the whole time?”
“Far as I knew…” Ellen nodded. “John loved your mom that much.”
“Yeah.” He took a breath. “Okay. Let’s get me out of here.”
“Dean…” Carmen tossed her trash and held her hands out to him. “No, your head.”
“It’s fine.”
“Dean, mayb--” Ellen tried to cut in but she soon realized she would be putting herself in the middle of something.
“You should stay until your concussion clears and maybe we could do something about the sunburn.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it that I can’t. I got everything I need.”
“Why do you have to be so God damned stubborn?” She lowered her voice as she cursed at him. “We’re trying to help you. If you haven’t noticed, you need it. What the hell were you thinking? I thought you figured it out the other night that you’re not strong enough to go walking around by yourself. You need help.”
“Fuck you. I asked you to stay away from me. You couldn’t even do that. Had to go nosing through my shit and then had the audacity to get mad at me for something I didn’t do.” He caught the look of surprise on her face. “Yes! I am in possession of a large vocabulary. Hell, I’m sure I speak more languages than you do. So hop on your damn charity case broomstick and get the hell out!”
Ellen stepped aside to let her out. When she turned her gaze back to Dean, he had sunken in on himself. “You get some rest, sweetie. I’ll go get the discharge papers. You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight, even if I don’t get to.”
“Thanks, Ellen.”
Ellen went to work talking to the desk and filling out forms. She had the stack in her hand for Dean to sign when she caught sight of the brunette nurse again. Approaching slowly, she cleared her throat. “You know, honey… I’ve been accused of being a bitch. Hell, I’ve worn the name with pride a time or two… Now, I don’t know what your beef with Dean is but someone ought to teach you a lesson in how to treat a man.”
“Excuse me?” Carmen’s brown eyes went wide.
“Taking a man down because you can is a little bitchy. Kicking a man while he’s down… bitchy. The mother bitch of all bitches is a woman who kicks a man in the balls when he’s down and it’s clear his spirit is already broken.” Ellen shifted her weight, wanting to slap the younger woman… just for fun. “You just stay away from him, like he asks. That’s all there is to it. He comes in again because he’s a stubborn mule, fine. Treat him but don’t talk to him.”
Carmen stood in stunned silence long after the older woman had left her alone.
Eighty. Eighty. Eighty. Ellen's truck chugged down the street. Dean turned to the punching bag and tapped it. Solid. Going away present from Ellen. The last of them, she promised. His glasses being the first in a succession. He slipped the elastic band onto the stems of the glasses before settling them on his face. They helped. Some. But it wasn't the same. An extra hundred dollars had gotten them use of the garage itself. Dean had actually enjoyed moving their shit so he could have room to exercise where he could sweat it up and not worry about eyes on his charred flesh.
Popping a pain pill, he chugged some water before taping his hands and feet. Rolling his shoulders, he recalled the first lessons his father had ever given him. Slow and easy at first. Then repetition will build speed on its own. Felt his flesh stretch into the movements that were second nature to him. It wasn't his own faults that got him jumped. It was the new circumstances that had prevented him from defending himself.
The eye had limited his vision. The burn scabs had limited his range. The pain had sapped his strength. He had glasses now. He had his painkillers once more. The limited range would be his project. Physio, the doctors had said. Therapy to restore function. Depth perception was still an issue but he could adjust for it.
Guns. Sam had left him his two favorites. Throwing knives and a Stryker blade. A small arsenal. Just enough to let him feel normal. A canister of salt for the door and windows. Holy water, just in case. He would not be caught unawares again.
Fifty-three. Fifty-three. Dean’s feet beat out the time. He felt more like himself. He hated the glasses but they were needed. He punched the air. Fifty-three. Again. Fifty-three. He slowed his jog as he reached the corner. Just another block to the market. He had the last of his money in his pocket. Bobby had shelled out for another month of rent. Ellen had kicked in for meds. Sam refused anything but a couple of days once he realized Dean still refused to budge. He had given Dean a ‘borrowed’ MP3 player full of Zeppelin, Metallica, Boston and Ozzy in all his incarnations. He had bitched plenty about the cost of Metallica but Dean didn’t care. The present said everything it needed to.
Bright pink was Sam’s idea of a joke but the tunes sometimes drowned out the internal timer that sometimes drove Dean nuts. Fifty-three. Fifty-three. Foreplay’s bass could rival the countdown for the pounding in Dean’s feet. Guitars taking the sting out of the numbers. Dean sang under his breath as he raided the refrigerator for his selections. Yanking his hood forward, he continued on through the store. His mind turning over lyrics and playlists and ways to make some cash in the next couple of days. A hustle would buy him a couple of weeks worth of groceries. He was getting stronger. By next week he could sell himself as a handyman. Maybe a mechanic. Shit, where’d the tunes go?
“You dropped this.”
Dean turned to find the last person he’d expected to see, holding his bright pink pod-person or whatever it was. He found the end of his headphones dangling.
Carmen stepped forward and plugged it back in for him. She glanced at the screen and scrolled down. “You know… there was music made after 1979.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he replied with a small smile. He took the player back, more than appalled that the pink was even brighter than he remembered.
“Pink your favorite color?” she teased.
“My brother is a clown.” Dean turned to walk away but she looked like she was going to say something. “Sorry about being a prick.”
“No, uh… you had a really, really bad month.” She offered him a smile and lifted a hand but dropped it back to her side. “I… gotta… go.”
Dean took a deep breath, readjusted his hood and made for the counter. He let a little old lady cut in front of him so he wouldn’t be taunted by having Carmen in front of him in line. He turned up the volume and tried not to think as he walked the distance back to his hovel. A block away from his turn off, he could see a car with its hood up. He didn’t want to check it out but he had to think ahead. Ingratiate himself to some hard-up driver and maybe word of mouth gets him enough jobs to keep him in grub for fifty-three days.
The car was empty but a purse sat on the passenger seat. The hood was up and still warm. Frowning, Dean scanned the dark for the driver. He grabbed the keys and locked the doors before moving around to drop the hood. That’s when he saw the alley across the way. Something bounced off some ray of light that he couldn’t see but he recognized that glint. A knife. His hand slid to the back of his jeans where his gun wasn’t… Damn.
“Motherfucker!” Came the shout. “Bitch!” A scream.
Dean put himself in motion; he had a knife in his… dammit! How the hell did he leave the house unarmed? Tossing his bags to the ground, he charged ahead. Instinct, more than sight, sent a guy crashing into the wall, head first. He felt a burn in his side but ignored it in lieu of knocking the knife from the other guy’s hand. Arms and legs in motion, Dean knocked him down but not out. “Run!” He shouted to the girl on the ground. Shoving the butt of his hand into the guy’s sternum, Dean sent him reeling into his buddy.
He turned, grabbed the girl by her shoulders and set them both in motion. Away from the light of the main street, deeper into the alley. Her sobs were the only indication that she was keeping up. And damn! He couldn’t see shit! His night vision was shot and his glasses were fogging up. He tripped over a garbage can but small hands gripped his arms to help him back up. They burst out of the alley and into a residential neighborhood. After a block, he saw the street sign that said they were in his territory. Gripping her hand, they sprinted down an alley, then darted down a short block and came up behind his little apartment. She stumbled up the stairs but Dean took that opportunity to get the door unlocked and open. Once they were both inside, he peered out the window. His heart pounded out fifty-three over and over. Eyes on the street, he reached back and gripped his shotgun. He didn’t have real buckshot for it but no one had to know that. Pumping it, he lifted the window and slid the barrel through. Then he saw them, running and searching the darkness for their quarry. The shot was loud in the apartment. The sound outside sent the predators scurrying any which way but after them.
Dean watched for a long moment after they’d run off. Then he turned to the girl he’d just saved. She had her hands over her face, shaking. Making sure that his hood was on securely, he set the shotgun down and crossed to grip her elbows. “I think they’re gone.”
“Are you sure, Dean?” She wiped at her face and stared at him with wide eyes. “Are they really?”
Carmen. Shit. Dean turned away and fixed his eyes on the street outside the window. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”
“Oh my God.” She sobbed into her hands.
Then it hit him. Those guys had left her purse. He whirled around. “Are you okay? Did they… ?” She shook her head but gripped her bruised wrists. He knelt with her as she slid to the floor and lightly rubbed the abused skin. “These will fade.” Lightly, he felt her arms, shoulders and neck. “Doesn’t look like they roughed you up too badly.”
“Since when are you a field medic?”
“Sweetheart, I know more about field medicine than some veterans.” He lifted her chin to examine the bruise on her jaw line. “Your legs?”
“Fine, I think.”
“Knees or ankles?” He asked gently.
“Knees.”
Brushing away the torn folds of her skirt, he found a cut on her knee and a bruise on the opposite thigh. Hopping away, he got the first aid kit from his makeshift nightstand. He had plenty of Neosporin and bandages. He set those next to her before running to grab a clean rag to wet down. Carefully, he washed the blood away. “I don’t have alcohol. Sorry.”
“I’m surprised… you have everything else in here.” She glanced at him from where she’d been picking through his kit.
“I forget sometimes… so I just stopped keeping it.” Dean tugged at his hood to make sure it was staying in place. “You hurting? I have some regular Tylenol or the good stuff… I think Ellen left her bourbon if you want that instead.”
“The Tylenol is fine.” She nodded and watched as he twisted away to pick up the bloody washrag and trash from the gauze he’d taped to her thigh. That’s when she saw the bloody tear in his hoodie. “You’re hurt!”
“What?” Dean frowned and looked himself over. Then he remembered. “It’s just a slice… it’ll heal.”
“Sit,” she commanded and found her strength once again. This she could do. “Take off the shirts.”
“It’s fine.”
“God!” she screamed at him. “You saved my life and patched me up. Let me return the favor.” She gathered the kit and rifled for everything she’d need. She turned and grabbed his hood and he gripped her hands hard. “Hey! You get an infection in that cut… and the burns will get infected, too. Your immune system is already on overload with that.”
Cursing under his breath, Dean did as told and took off his hoodie and his shirt. The shirt peeled off the cut, which was shallow but needed a cleaning. Leaning his upper body on the table, he pulled his arms up and out of the way. Fifty-three. Fifty-three. The towel wiped away blood. She quickly put one stitch in the middle of the cut, then treated with some ointment before taping gauze over it. “Bitch, I didn’t put a stitch in you.”
“I didn’t need one.” She ignored the insult as she gathered her mess to toss away. She eyed the bottles on the counter before tossing one his way. She found the bourbon herself. She poured herself a glass and swallowed it down. She poured another and offered it to her savior. “I won’t tell the doc, I swear.”
Dean managed a grin but only downed half the shot, knowing that mixing the meds wouldn’t be a gangbuster idea once his heart stopped. He slid the glass back to her. She downed it without further encouragement. “You can take what you need from the closet and the dresser. Bathroom is through there. I don’t think going out there tonight is a good idea.”
“Okay.” She nodded and poured herself a third shot. “I’m not a lush… I…”
Dean rose from his seat and got the clothes himself. He put them in her hands and pushed her into the bathroom. “There are towels in the cabinet. Take your time.”
Dean made sure all the windows were closed and locked. Then he made sure they all had salt. He reloaded his shotgun and set it by the bed. He settled into a fresh undershirt and hoodie before settling down with his thoughts. He must have fallen asleep because he found himself smiling up at Carmen who wore just a short robe and he knew if he yanked that sash…
“Dean?” She shook him lightly, clothed in one of his shirts and one of his hoodies. “Hey Dean… maybe you should lie down and sleep.”
“Naw.” His throat felt like sandpaper. “You take the bed. I’ll… stay up.” He pried open his eyes and forced himself to his feet. Two glasses of water later, he turned to find she’d taken a blanket off the bed and curled up in one of the chairs at the table. His clothes made her look tinier than she was. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m not the one who got stabbed.” She huddled deeper into the chair. “I couldn’t sleep now if I tried.”
“Adrenaline will fade and then you’ll crash.”
“Why do you have a shotgun, anyway?”
“Don’t like being unarmed.”
“Because of your accident?”
Dean couldn’t hold back the snort. “Sweetheart, some things happen to a person long before you meet them.” He moved around the little kitchen and brewed up a pot of coffee. “I was raised on shotguns.”
“Oh? Is that why you knew all those fancy moves in the alley?”
“My dad was a Marine. After my mom… well, he… raised us to defend ourselves.”
“Martial arts and target-shooting.”
“Among other things.”
“How long have you lived here?” Her eyes flicked from window to table to the other side of the room.
“Since the day I pissed you off.” Dean poured them both a cup before the maker had finished its cycling.
“If you’re not from here… why stay here?” He shrugged. She sipped the coffee slowly. It was much stronger than she was used to. “Okay. Fine. Why do you carry a picture of me in your wallet? Obviously you had it before you ever met me.”
Dean thought about his answer long and hard before he gave it. Normally he wouldn’t talk so much but he’d been alone for longer than he’d like. It was good to have company. “It was a dream.”
“What was?”
“Sam and I were… on a hunting trip. I knocked myself on the head. I had a dream. It felt real. So vivid. There were a lot of things about that dream that I loved and a few things… I hated.” He took a deep breath. “My mom was alive. My mother… and I grew up in one place. Sam got to live the life he should have… and me… I was still a screw up but I had a good life. A steady job… a girlfriend and a place I called home.”
“You couldn’t have any of that while you’re awake?”
“Not so much. I kind of… I hated that it was a dream and just a dream. When I woke up, I… wasn’t really myself. The dream bugged me because I recognized the girlfriend but I couldn’t place from where. I was telling Sam about it while I was flipping through a magazine…” Dean lifted his eyes to see her but her eyes were fixed on her coffee cup. “Maybe I’d flipped through it a day or two before my concussion but… I didn’t want to let the dream go.” He took a breath. “Sam thought it was my spank rag, too but… it wasn’t about that.”
“I’m sorry that I overreacted.” She whispered and lifted her eyes to his, slowly. “So, can I ask? I mean… about why you… can’t have a life like what…” His eyes shifted away. “What happened to your mom?”
“She was killed when I was little.” He shrugged and had to laugh at his next phrasing. “My dad came a little unhinged. We started moving around a lot. He drank too much… if I spent a whole semester somewhere, it was damn rare.”
“I’m sure my life is downright mundane next to yours.” Carmen sipped her coffee slowly.
“I really hope it is.” Dean got up and found creamer in the cabinet. Sam’s creamer. “Here.”
“Was it that obvious?” She blushed and uncapped the bottle. She stirred it with her finger and then eyed the bottle when she licked the coffee off her finger. “Hazelnut?”
“My brother. Such a wuss.” Dean laughed to himself. “Ellen just shook her head at him when she realized why it was even in the cabinet.”
“Ellen is a… fierce woman.”
“Yeah.” Dean smiled to himself. “Ellen.”
“You seem a little taken with her.”
Dean shrugged. “She’s just one of those ladies… Ladies. I just called Ellen a lady. She’d laugh at that.” He inhaled half his coffee. “I haven’t actually known her that long but…”
“Well, whether she’s known you long or not, she loves you.” Carmen sipped her coffee. “She scared the shit out of me the last time you were in the hospital.”
“Ellen?” Dean’s forehead creased in thought.
“Sounded like a threat. She wanted me to stay away from you. I think she actually called me the mother of all bitches… and coming from her… I think that must be pretty bad.”
“Yeah… Ellen would know the true meaning of bitch.” He had to smile. It seemed like something Ellen would do and never tell him about. “We’re like family. Ellen’s family. My family… just… we know that the family is more important than everything else. I’m glad I’m on her good side… after Jo…” He trailed off and remembered being the one to tell Ellen that her daughter was dead. “I kind of figured it would break her but Ellen’s got backbone enough for the world.”
“Who’s Jo?”
“Her daughter.” Dean cleared his throat. “Passed away six months ago. 24 years old. Ellen’s world shattered but you’d never know it unless you knew her and I’m still not sure I’m on the list of the qualified.”
“Been a rough year for you, I guess.”
“Rough couple of decades.” He cleared his throat again. “Okay. I did my time. You do yours. Why were you even in a magazine if you’re a nurse in Bumfuck, Nebraska?”
“We’re in Bumfuck, Kansas,” she corrected. “I ran away a few years ago. Too much small town bullshit. Not enough reasons to put up with it. I had my nursing under my belt but school loans were killing me. Met a guy at a bar. Said I could be a model…” She shook her head. “I did one shoot and got paid handsomely for it. I had lined up two more and thought I could do that for a while. See the world. The photographer on the second shoot…” Carmen tipped the bourbon bottle into her coffee and took a long sip. “Made me realize how naïve I was and just how small a town I’d come from… and how much I had lucked out up to that point. I took my money and ran home.”
“At least you had a home to run to.”
“Yeah and got an earful from my mother and my father and we waited until the damn pictures stopped circulating. So… seeing that ad in your wallet just…”
“We all have triggers.”
“After tonight, I’ll have a few more.” She got up to refill her cup and turned to get his as well. He blinked at her rapidly, and then he lightly tugged on the left side of his hood. “I know you said that you moved around a lot but what is it that you do for a living.”
“Not anything that I can do anymore. Some of my resources are gone.”
“Like?”
“My eye is shot. For what I do… bad eyesight is bad.” He pointed to his left shoulder. “This whole side is still stiff. If I had been in top condition, I could have murdered those guys in the alley. Sure as hell wouldn’t have had to run off. We could have taken your car and been done with it.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Let’s just say that if you thought you were naïve for not thinking sexual favors were expected of models… then my world is a whole world over your head. No one normal gives my world a single thought, forget a second thought.” Dean gulped his coffee. “I freelance investigations. No one usually asks for my help but they end up needing it. I dispose of problems.”
“You’re not a garbage man for the mafia, are you?”
“I wish.”
She nodded and sipped her coffee in silence for a long moment. “So, you what? Move to an area and look for what? Problems that you specialize in and what? Just solve it for free?”
“I read a lot of newspapers. I’m trained to see patterns and clues where say… the cops aren’t. Hell, even the FBI doesn’t see these things. Maybe they don’t want to. I stop them from continuing.”
“So what brought you to Lawrence?”
“Lawrence?” Dean paled and he could feel a panic attack coming on but forced himself to breathe. “I didn’t even ask. I just…”
“Woke up here?”
“Yeah. We started out in Stull… we were… working and things didn’t go right. We took it as far as we could and we got the job done but… it didn’t really work out.”
“Because you got hurt.”
“It happens… just never been hurt this way before.” He took his cup to the window and stared out over his neighborhood. He had avoided newspapers because he didn’t want to tempt himself. He kept his head down when he was out and about. “Lawrence, Kansas.”
“You okay?”
“I was born here. If we’re on Cedar, then… shit… my childhood home is about two miles from here. Missouri knows I’m here. She’ll give me hell when she finds out what I’ve done.”
“Missouri Mosley?” Carmen frowned at him. “She passed away three months ago.”
“How do you know Missouri?” Dean turned to face her.
“It was on the news. I didn’t even know we had people in town that played at being psychic. The way she died…” Carmen shuddered suddenly. “And… I was in the burn unit when she came in.”
“Burn unit?” His heart clenched up and he couldn’t stop the tears. “They got her, too.” He turned and punched the wall. “God, I should’ve come and… I should have been here. Three months ago… three months ago, I was…”
“You think someone did that to her?” She set her cup aside and took his from him. “It was a gas leak. She didn’t know. All it took was for her to walk in and flip on a light.”
“But she would have known.”
“She wasn’t really psychic, Dean.”
“You didn’t know her.” He all but roared in her face. “Missouri…” He fought for memories that he knew he didn’t have. Long forgotten before he’d known they were there to be forgotten. “She… helped my dad after my mom died. Helped him with me and Sammy and… she helped us when dad was missing and… shit… Missouri.” Dean sank onto his bed and dropped his head between his knees. “She would have known…. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“They only made it look like a gas leak.”
“You think someone murdered her? She was a con but I doubt anyone in this town would murder over some wrong advice.”
Dean snorted. “Missouri was the only person in the psychic business that I knew was not a con. As for this town… two guys tonight almost killed us both and their original intent was to rape you. You tell me what you know about Lawrence.”
Carmen stayed silent. Dean had yelled at her before. Had exerted himself right in front of her but she had never seen his face turn red in anger. With his burned face, he almost looked like he was wearing a mask. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. I didn’t know her and I’m naïve enough to think my home town is safe. Happy?”
He only shook his head and averted his eyes. “If I told you what I think really happened… you’d have Dr. Gilbert on the phone first thing and you’d both have me locked up. I’m not spending my last fifty-two days in a psych ward.”
“Fifty-two days?” She sat on the edge of the bed and dared to touch his knee. “What’s fifty-two days got to do with anything?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Dean shook his head. “I’ve had a bad life and a really suck out loud couple of years.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” She slid to sit next to him on his right side. “You were born here? Maybe we went to school together for a little while.”
Dean shook his head. “I was four when my mom died. We left Lawrence after Christmas that year. We didn’t come back until I was 26. I only stayed a week.”
“What your uncle said… about you… not talking when you were five…”
“Remembered, huh. Damn,” he tried to joke. “I hadn’t been talking since it happened. I don’t even really remember running off that time… except that maybe Sammy had an earache or something.”
“You don’t remember running off but you remember your baby brother had an earache?” She smiled at him. “Aw, you’re a good big brother.”
“I am an awesome big brother,” he corrected her but the smile faded from his mouth because he was a shitty big brother. He sold his soul for his baby brother but he had let Sam find out. Had cursed his brother to know that… He shook his head and tried to focus on Carmen’s slow smile. Sometime in the night, they had come to a truce. It killed him because it was easy to talk to her. Maybe because he had gotten used to it in his dreams. Maybe because she was really nice once he stopped abusing her verbally. “Do you have a brother… or a sister?”
“Two sisters. Both younger. They’re both married and have kids and I’m the spinster older sister who isn’t doing such a good job with her life.”
“You’re what? 26?”
“28, but I appreciate the attempt at flattery.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “I don’t feel old but my parents just… shake their heads at me… like I messed up.”
“What do your sisters do?”
“They take care of the kids. Nani married a roofer. Isela is married to the son of the lady who owns that cheesy Mexican-knock off restaurant.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re a nurse. You saw a bit of the world. What did they do before they got married and had kids?”
“Dropped out of college the second they found out they were pregnant is what they did.” She snorted. “It’s really my mom who’s on my case. My dad…”
“Had a difference experience?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him with a half smile and glittering brown eyes. “He went to college. He didn’t finish but he went. His mother had done the same. I’m the first to finish. I don’t know about her husband… if there ever really was one.”
“Single mom?”
“I think so. Dad won’t talk about his dad.”
“Grandpa Porter never been in the picture?”
“Not that I ever could remember.” She frowned suddenly but dismissed it and sighed. “What time is it?”
“Late.” He could stare at her all night. It was probably his last chance. “You should get some sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t sleep so much anymore.”
“More panic attacks?”
“Not a single one since the night before I got jumped.”
“God, you are so…” She cupped the scarred side of his face and pressed her lips against his. “Thank you, Dean.”
He kept stock still until long after she’d pulled her hand away and stretched out beside him. Until long after her breathing had evened out. It wasn’t fair but then… it never had been for Dean Winchester.
Dean woke to the sound of a zipper. His eyes refused to open and so he let the sound go for a minute, but then he felt a hand slip up his shirt. “You know, most girls like me to be awake when they’re feeling me up.”
“Shit!” Carmen exclaimed and promptly fell off the bed. By the time Dean had forced his eyes open and rolled to see where she’d landed, she was bright red and rubbing her butt. “I was… just trying to make sure your cut wasn’t inflamed or anything.”
“Okay but next time make sure you aren’t pulling the Florence Nightingale routine on someone who sleeps with a knife under his pillow.” He pulled the Stryker from under the pillows to make his point.
“Just let me look at it.” She got to her knees with a huff and scooted closer to shove his shirts up. Then she gently peeled back the bandage. “Just red and not too much blood.”
“Can I take a shower now?” He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his hands colliding with his glasses.
“You fell asleep with them on.” She took them from him and cleaned away the fingerprints. “I made coffee.”
“Awesome. More than what some people do after a rescue.” He muttered as he got to his feet. “Come on. You relax. I’ll shower, and then we’ll go get your car.”
Silence as comfortable as any he’d had accompanied them to the spot where they’d made their break for it the night before. “It’s not my car.”
“What’s that?” Dean swung his head in her direction.
She looked small in his clothes, carrying her torn clothes in her arms. She shrugged at him. “I traded cars with my brother-in-law for the day because he had to make a run to Topeka. I wasn’t going to the store but… I ran out of milk, and then I found out I didn’t have bread so I figured that I’d make a quick run. I didn’t think the dumbshit would leave me stranded in his stupid car.”
“It’s only three blocks from the store. What did the car do that made you pull over?”
“It was making a knocking noise. Then everything on the dash lit up. So, I pulled over and popped the hood. I figured that I could figure something out or at least cool the engine.”
“Sounds like a blown gasket head.” He nodded to himself. “The car runs but it overheats like crazy?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Leaky hose or blown gasket. If the water levels are low, we’ll know.”
“You know a lot about cars… well, more than me. None of that even makes sense to me.”
“I like one car. Mine. I just… know how to fix them. I used to make some spare change fixing cars when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “We used to stay in cheap motels. I’d want to take a girl to a movie and Dad wasn’t going to shell out. I’d find a poor sap with a crap car. Do an oil change for ten. Full lube for twenty. Check out a transmission for free but charge 50 a day to do the work on it.”
“Sounds like you had a sound scheme on things.”
“Didn’t I mention my profession as a hustler?”
“Somehow, that wouldn’t surprise me.” She patted her pockets for her keys but came up empty.
“I got ‘em.” Dean pulled them out of his pockets and unlocked the door. His grocery bag from the night before was soggy and garbage. He picked it up off the floor and tossed it in a trash can. “Pop the hood.”
Carmen did as told, then stood back to watch him work. He peered into the engine and grunted. She disposed of her milk and slid her purse over her shoulder. “Do you need me to do something?”
“Pop the trunk. Get me a jug of water.”
When she did, she was dumbfounded. There were four jugs of distilled water sitting there. “How did you know?”
“You get to know the signs of a cheap bastard.” Dean took the jug when she brought it around. “There’s duct tape on the hose. Lucky he hasn’t blown a gasket yet. It’s dried up and I could tape it together but I wouldn’t want to do his work for him. We could make it to your car with maybe one stop if we take it slow.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“I’ll help you. Let’s go.” Dean dropped the hood once he’d filled the little tank. He took the passenger seat and watched the streets crawl by as Carmen navigated town and kept her eye on the dashboard. She pulled up in front of a nice house with kids’ toys strewn across the lawn. There were several cars up front. “I’ll… stay out here.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Mine’s the black one over there.”
“The Cobalt?”
“Yeah.”
“Not an Impala but still a Chevy.” Dean whistled as he swung himself out of the car and took his time inspecting the ’06 model car before him. He made sure he was still making his inspection when the front door swung open.
“Where the hell you been, Carmen? Your mom’s pissed,” a male voice called out. “We were going to start dinner without you.”
“Really.” Carmen stormed through the front gate. “I’m so sorry I’m late for Sunday dinner. It would have really sucked if I’d died and missed it all together, pendejo.”
“What the fuck, Carmen?”
“Chingada tacaño y tu chinga carcacha.” She growled at him and tossed the keys in his face.
“What the hell, Carmen?” He barely caught the keys before they caught him in the eye.
“Carmen! It’s Sunday!” a voice called out.
Dean turned to watch her force her way into the house and come storming out, keys in hand and a trail of women who looked just like her. Carmen punched her brother-in-law in the stomach. “God, you can’t even know what your ‘innocent little mistake’ almost cost me. Come mierda y muere!”
“Carmen!” That had to be her mother.
Carmen just kept walking, shaking her head and letting tears fall down her face. Dean caught her as she reached the car. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit in the passenger seat.” When she’d done as told. Dean hopped the fence and approached the worried huddle. “Discúlpeme… anoche… La carcacha deja de hace funcionar… y Carmen es solo. Dos
pachucos atacarse con un cuchillo…” He paused as it began to sink in what he was trying to say. “Esos… a ponerse fin.”
The woman reached for his hand but Dean stepped out of her reach. “Gracias, mi hijo. Que Dios te bendiga.”
“De nada.” Dean turned on his heel and hopped the fence again. He could hear them talking but didn’t stop.
“Mama, did you see his face?”
“Quiete, Nani. Y tu!” A loud smack met Dean’s ears but he didn’t have to turn around to know that the owner of the piece of shit had just gotten the snot beat out of him by a five foot nothing mother of three, grandmother of four.
Dean slid in behind the wheel and took the keys when she handed them over. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.” It was six blocks before she spoke again. “What did you tell them?”
“What happened… more or less.”
She only nodded and began rifling through her purse. The whispers of papers and plastic chanted out a steady fifty-two until she found her phone. “Lynn, this is Carmen… yeah, I know… I’m not coming in today. I’ll explain later… Yeah… and is David on duty? … Could you tell him to meet me at my apartment? … Thanks. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
Fifty. Fifty. Dean gripped the bag and shoved his knee into it. Fifty. Fifty. He took a break and paced the newly organized garage. He’d slipped out of Carmen’s apartment while she was talking to the cop. Then he’d needed a place to focus his energy. There was a lot of shit in that damned garage. He’d managed to get it cleaned and everything put in a way that wasn’t in his way and without throwing away things that weren’t broken. The following day, David the cop had stopped by for his statement. It was quick. Twenty minutes of the cop asking questions while walking around the garage and examining its contents. He mumbled something about it being too bad about Dean’s eye or the academy would snatch him up.
“Hey man?” Dean knew that voice; his rather lethargic, but nonintrusive, landlord.
“’Sup?” Dean called out before flipping the garage door open with his foot.
“Package came up front.” The hippie tossed it to him and glanced around. “Hey man… I’ve got a garage.”
“You’ll get it back in fifty days.”
“Another month’s rent. Alright.” He nodded to himself and made his slow way back to the main house.
Dean waved him off and sat with one of his throwing knives to open the box. He rolled his eyes at the Hello Kitty! cell phone. Sam really was trying to torture him.
“A pink IPod and a Hello Kitty! phone,” Carmen’s voice floated over his head. “I wonder if someone is trying to send you a message.”
“It’s Sam and the message is for me to stop sitting on my ass and get back to work.” Dean snorted but pulled the phone out and plugged it in while hunting for the phone number in the papers that had accompanied it. He had planned to ignore her but the aroma caught his nose and wouldn’t let go. “What’s that?”
She held up the casserole pan and set it on the nearest flat surface. “My mother thinks I owe you dinner for saving my life. She’s quite smitten with you… and impressed that a whiter-than-white boy speaks better Spanish then her own kids.” She held up her hands. “Her words, not mine. Also, her cooking, not mine.”
Dean couldn’t hold in the smile as he fiddled with the phone. Absently, he pulled his hood over his head. She sighed heavily. “I brought your clothes back, too.”
“Keep ‘em. Looked better on you, anyway.” Dean shrugged.
She took in his bare feet wrapped in tape and the tape around his knuckles. “What does that do? The tape?”
“Traction, mostly. Helps to stiffen for hard blows, though.” Another shrug.
“Like that thing you did that sent that guy falling backward.”
“Yeah. Your body kind of remembers what position it should be in. It’s why I practice.” He tossed the phone onto a shelf to let it charge up. “My body… is missing some pieces now.”
“I think it’s helping you regain elasticity, too.” She took the bag in both her hands and circled it. “My sister thinks you’re the Devil.”
“Oh?” Well, that was kind of amusing.
“But it doesn’t matter. Mom is so grateful to you for saving my virtue; she’s added you to her list of candles to light on Sunday.” She stared up at the ropes holding the bag in place. “She wasn’t too concerned with my virtue when I was dating Andre Iverson, though.”
“Let me guess, the one boyfriend of yours that she liked?”
“Yahtzee.” She turned to him. “You want to put that away and we can take a walk?”
“A walk?” Dean frowned but nodded, taking the still-warm and mouthwatering dish upstairs to put in the nearly empty refrigerator. He took a moment to put on his socks, shoes and a clean shirt. Dean led the walk, making sure they didn’t start down a street he didn’t know or looked like it had something to hide. “So, we’re walking but I think you wanted to do something along the lines of talking, which I have to admit that I suck at.”
She took his arm to make sure she kept pace. “I wanted to know why. I’m really grateful and everything. Given everything you’ve been through already… Why stop and help me? Why put up with my nosiness until 3 a.m.?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t occur to me not to.”
“You didn’t even know who it was. Just some dumb girl in an alley.”
“Like I said…” Dean bit off the words when he heard his tone. “Look… it’s hard for me to tamp down a lot of my instincts. That’s one I haven’t mastered.”
“Like what else?”
“I don’t know. Just stuff I’m used to doing.” Dean stopped to face her. “I don’t know how not to help, okay? It’s just what I do. I help people.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever tried to thank you before?”
“It’s not really high on anyone’s list of priorities.”
“Ritchie!” a woman’s voice called out.
Dean didn’t even think. His eyes scanned the area. A toddler chased a ball down the incline toward the street. He sprinted, catching the boy mid-stride before a car whizzed by, sending his hood off his head. Scared, the boy screamed. His panicked mother raced to them. “He’s okay.”
“Yes, thanks to… Oh my God.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Dean?”
Dean shifted uncomfortably as he tried to place the blonde and her son. Then he felt a breeze through his hair. He reached back and yanked the hood over his head. Then he was tackled. Then it clicked as the little brunette lifted her face to look at him. The current residents of his old house. “Hey Sari.”
“They didn’t come back. Just like you said.” She whispered breathlessly. Big brown eyes shining up at him. Dean knelt so he could hear her. “Not even the fire lady.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dean nodded. “You been taking care of your brother?”
“I try.”
“Good.” He nodded again then got to his feet again. “Jenny…”
“You okay?” She stepped forward to peer into his hood but he turned his left side away. “What happened?”
“You know. I do what I do and… sometimes I win and sometimes I don’t.” He shrugged. “I have say, though… that this time, winning kind of sucks.”
“Are you staying in town?”
“Yeah.”
Jenny shifted Ritchie on her hip. “Did you hear about Missouri?”
“Just the other day.”
“After the way she… I had kind of expected to see you and your brother around.”
“Had we known… we might have been.”
“Where is Sam?”
“On the road.” Dean smoothed his hood down. “After what happened to me… I decided to just sit still for a while.” He felt her body near to his and cleared his throat. “I hadn’t really thought to look anyone up.”
“He also didn’t bother to find out where he’d landed.” Carmen held her hand out. “I’m Carmen.”
“Jenny and this is Ritchie.” Jenny smoothed down his hair now that he’d calmed down.
“I’m Sari.” She took up position at Dean’s hip and didn’t seem inclined to leave it. In fact, she seemed to think it was her duty to hold his hand and keep Carmen at bay.
“I’m serious, Dean. If you need anything, just let me know.” Jenny offered him a smile even though her four-year-old was getting heavy. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You want to thank me after I trashed your kitchen?” Dean spun Sari in a few careful circles.
“Dean… you did more good than harm and you know it.” Jenny flicked her eyes to Carmen. “I’ll make you and your girlfriend dinner this week.”
Both of them choked at the same time. It was Sari who saved the day. “She’s not his girlfriend, Mom.”
“Well, whichever. We’d be happy to have you.” Jenny bit her lip and then added. “I found some more of your family’s things in the attic. Nothing useful to you but… sentimental.”
“Oh yeah?”
“She found your Chris-ten-ing gown,” Sari spoke the word carefully. “And Sam’s toys.”
“Gross. He was a baby so you know what that means.” Dean knelt to Sari’s level. She scrunched up her nose. “Baby drool.” He tugged lightly on her ponytail. “You hold the fort, okay? Keep an eye on your brother and make sure you don’t drive your mom crazy.”
“Okay.” She nodded and then leaned in. “Don’t marry her.”
He swallowed thickly. “Why not?”
“Wait for me.”
“Okay. You got it.” Dean let her kiss his right cheek before straightening. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that dinner later on. It seems I’m spoken for.”
Jenny leaned in to hug him. “Don’t mean to burst your bubble but she’s been engaged nine times this week alone.”
“Mom…” Sari whined but let Dean out of her reach.
“It was nice to meet you, Carmen. And to see you again, Dean. We should go before the skies open up.” She cast her gaze to the darkening sky. “Come on, Sari.”
Dean waved them off and stood hunched in his hoodie until Carmen took his arm to begin the trek back to his place. She let all the questions go for about two blocks. “So… you’ve got a savior-complex, huh.” He shrugged. “If I buy you a cape, what color do I buy it?”
“Black.”
“Batman, huh.”
“You know your superheroes.”
“Just the ones they make into movies.” She bit her lip and slid her eyes to watch his face. “You’re going to stand that little girl up, aren’t you?”
“She’ll understand someday.”
“No, she won’t. She worships you for whatever it is you did for her family. Learn to take a compliment or just a ‘thank you’, Dean. You’ll keep more friends that way.”
“Why do you care?” he blurted out. “I don’t even know you, really… and you’re in my face about things that even my brother leaves alone.”
“Blame your brother for it.” She opened her mouth to say more but the wind blew cold and a moment later, the skies opened. She let out a shriek as a sheet of rain drenched her. Dean grabbed her hand and they ran the remainder of the way. To his amazement, he was actually laughing when they stumbled up his stairs to his door. She pulled her wet hair out of her face. “Oh my God… where did that rain come from?”
“You okay?” He caught his breath as he stripped out of his hoodie. “Felt like you nearly tripped.”
“Nearly turned my ankle but it’s okay.”
“Hit the shower before you catch cold.” Dean turned to look out the window but he couldn’t even see the street from his window. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a while.”
“I hate this freaky weather.” She grabbed a towel from the bathroom. “Do you have a heater in here?”
“Nah, hadn’t planned to be here that long.”
“Then you take first shower. You catch a chill and you’ve got more to worry about than a cold.” She rubbed the towel over her hair. “I’ll get us something hot to drink.” When he looked like he was going to protest, she waved a hand at him. “Go.”
Dean mumbled a thanks and got his clothes together. Hot water over his cold bones. He carefully inspected his scabs in the water. Ignored any condition south of the border because he did not have time to soothe that ache. It had been too damn long since he’d had that kind of relief and there was a soaking wet, smoking hot nurse in his apartment. Then he stepped out of the shower and cleared the fog from the mirror. “And me with half a Kruger-face.”
“Dean? Did you say something?”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” He dragged a towel over the right side of his body, then a smooth chamois over his left arm, left shoulder and the left side of his face. Just like every day. Boxers, jeans, T-shirt, hoodie and his glasses. He stepped into the apartment in a cloud of steam. “Give it about ten minutes and there should be enough for you.”
“Maybe in a minute.” She pulled the casserole dish out of the oven. “Got some hot tea and Mama’s casserole.”
Dean sat down in his designated chair and blinked at her while she served him something dark red, gooey and awesome-smelling. “Your mom thinking of leaving your dad any day soon?”
“She says every day.” She flashed him a smile as she set the dish on the table. “You like molé?”
“Molé?” The fork hovered in front of his face. It smelled damn good but… experience was a bitch. “Sweetheart…” He set the fork down. “There is no God damn reason for peppers and chocolate to be in the same bite. Or peanut butter or cinnamon or raisins.”
She laughed as she took a bite. “Where did you taste molé?”
“El Paso, I think…” Dean frowned at the memory. Both he and his dad had been sick as dogs all week.
“We’re not from anywhere near there… I don’t think, anyway. Try it.” She sipped her tea. “Mama’s casserole is combination enchiladas and chicken molé. If someone handed her a bar of chocolate while she was making it, she’d chuck it at their heads.”
“If I get sick, you’re paying to have my stomach pumped.” Damn, it smelled good. He picked up his fork again and the bite actually made it into his mouth in an explosion of goodness. “Seriously, I’ll rub her feet every night.”
“I’ll pass on the compliment.”
Dean rolled the smoky flavors over his tongue then sipped his tea but it was missing something. “You know what would go good with this?”
“What’s that?”
“Whiskey.”
“Not bourbon?”
“Nah. The bourbon was Ellen’s. I try to stay away from the alcohol cause of this.” He shrugged his left shoulder.
“How are you doing with that?” She swirled some cheese and rice around her fork. He lowered his gaze to the table and hitched his shoulders. “Physically, you seem to be fine and I don’t want to overstep…”
“It is what it is.” His head snapped up at a vibration in the floor. He picked up his gun from behind the table. Cocking it, he leveled it at the door. There it was again. Someone coming up the stairs. Rising, he twisted his body out of the seat, putting himself between Carmen and whatever was coming through the door.
“Dean!” a voice called from outside.
“Sam?”
“Yeah, man. Let us in.”
Dean stepped forward and twisted the knob, uncocking the gun and resting it on his shoulder. “You can’t warn a guy he’s getting company.”
“Don’t you aim a fucking gun at me, Winchester.” Ellen slurred and stepped into the apartment of her own recognizance. She swung around and faced Dean, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Smells good in here.”
“Are you drunk, Ellen?” Dean snorted and tucked the gun into the back of his pants.
“What’s it to you?” She eyed him, her hands dropping to her sides like lead weights. “And take that fucking hood off before I smack you. You ain’t got nothing that’ll scare Ellen Harvelle.” Sam shut the door behind him and looked to Dean with a helpless expression. “I’ve squashed hunters twice your size and ten times as mean looking and that’s with… whatever’s going on there.” She eyed Dean again. “What did I say about that fucking hood?”
Dean pulled the hood off and tried to keep his back to Carmen. “You okay, Ellen?”
“I’m dandy, Dean.” She pulled him into her arms. “It sure is good to see you, though.” She planted a firm kiss on his mouth before spinning him around and shoving him back into his seat. “We interrupted dinner. Sorry about that but Samuel over there didn’t want to drive and he wouldn’t let me drive either.”
“Where’s your truck?” Dean asked the both of them.
“Tell him, Ellen.” Sam slid his jacket off.
“It’s in a ditch,” Ellen told Dean with a sigh, as if it was normal for her truck to be in a ditch.
“Tell him how it got there, Ellen.”
“Well…” Ellen leaned on the counter. “I drove it there.”
“You want to tell him why?”
“No.”
“It’s Jo’s birthday,” Sam filled in the blanks for Dean.
That’s all that needed to be said. Dean’s head hung still for a minute. “You guys remember Carmen.”
“Hi.” She waved at them both.
“Oh, hey.” Sam reached over to take her hand. “We were caravanning around and when I realized what Ellen had done… and with the weather… didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Interrupt what? We were just eating.” Dean snapped his head to his brother. “You look like road kill and coming from road kill, that’s pretty damn bad.”
“Water heater’s full by now, right?” Carmen pointed to the bathroom.
“Yeah. Shower sounds good. I’ll… help you with her in a minute.” Sam waved her off.
“Um… Ellen? Are you hungry?” Carmen tried to help. It was clear the woman was distraught even if she was putting on a tough façade.
“Actually, that sounds good… and smells good.”
Dean gave up his chair and took his plate to the counter behind Carmen. Carmen served Ellen a plate and some tea. Ellen ate quietly for a bit. “This is good. Never did get the hang of cumin.” She looked across the table at the two of them. “When did you two kiss and make up?”
“Don’t know about any making up but saving a girl’s life gets him free food.”
“He managed to do that while he was all busted up? Good for him.” Ellen shoved another forkful into her mouth. “What in the hell is up with this rain?”
“We got drenched earlier. Bad day to take a walk, I guess.” She turned her head to look at Dean, who had taken the opportunity to finish his dinner.
“Sam could barely see to drive in this shit.” Ellen made a noise in her throat. “Sweetie, you gotta tell me how to make this.”
“Well, when I land a husband, I’ll let you know. Mama’s keeping it a secret until then.”
“Dangerous thing to do.” Ellen’s eyes narrowed to a slit but she kept eating steadily. “Mama’s gotta tell her girls everything. One or the other could be gone in the morning. Always said I’d never tell my Joanna Beth the secret of my chili if she went hunting. It’s extra paprika to the chili powder and I spice venison dry before I add water.” Tears flavored her voice but Dean didn’t see any more or less moisture to her eyes. She laughed dry and raw and nothing but Ellen. “Maybe I should’ve told her.”
“Jo would have run off, anyway,” Dean finally offered. “Never met her dad but I expect that Jo was all the best of you and all the worst of him.”
“You’d be right… least I hope…” Ellen finished her plate and handed it to Dean for trash. When he wandered near her again, she gripped his arm. “I gotta ask you. Turnabout is fair play, Dean. Did you ever fuck my daughter?”
Dean took a breath. “No, and not that she didn’t try, either.”
“Too bad.” Ellen stared at the kitchen sink. “Mouth like yours… the younger of us should’ve had a go round.”
“Okay, now I know you’re drunk.” Dean snorted back a laugh.
“She would’ve been 25, today, Dean.”
“I know.”
“She ran straight in, you know. Never looked back. Never doubted what she was doing. She had faith. Real faith. I don’t even have that.” She clung to his arm until he knelt to be eye level with her. “And that one over there. She’s listening to every word we say and she’s not running away, Dean. If you don’t kiss her, I will.”
“I would pay money to see that, Ellen.” He tipped his head toward the bed. Gave her a broad smile. “There’s a bed. Go to it.”
“Don’t you use that Winchester grin on me… Never cared much for tits, anyway.” Ellen sighed and sniffed. “You drink all my bourbon?”
“Bar’s closed, Ellen.”
“I know it. I know it. I gotta sleep it off but I’m not ready to sleep yet.”
“Should I go?” Carmen asked from where she was putting cups in the sink.
“You crazy? It’s raining cats and dogs out there, honey,” Ellen tsked at her. “Not too bright, huh…” she told Dean. “But I heard you like ‘em that way. Dumb and willing.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’ve nailed some of this country’s finest college graduates.” Dean started to get up but she yanked him back down. “You don’t believe me? Ask Sam.”
“Why in the hell do you say things like that, Dean Winchester? I am fully aware of your reputation and ways with women. Someone would think you’re trying to turn someone off with the crude shit that comes tumbling off your tongue.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I married the love of my life. I gave birth to a child I can’t hold anymore. I buried more men than I can count. I’ve had my share of dirty bangs in the bar, in cars… I can’t tell you the last good fuck I had and you’re probably the only 29-year-old that I’ve kissed since I was 27 myself… I can’t tell you what I’ve put aside… but I can tell you every moment of the last day that I saw her, Dean. I’ve lost enough that I don’t give a shit what I sound like anymore.” She gripped him behind the shoulders and leaned her forehead against his neck. “You pull your Dean-shit on everyone and laugh it up but you’re leaving me, too. What do you got?”
“Fifty days.”
“That’s it and then what do I do with the memory of Dean Winchester? Pack it up with my Bill and my Joanna Beth. Shove it aside with my John and Caleb.” She inhaled long and deep. “And I gotta be there to watch Bobby and Sam fall apart. I’m the one that’ll have to hold it together for them because those men… those surly men love you.”
“They won’t fall apart. No so long as they have a lady of your caliber with them.”
“You fucking Winchester men and your deals with devils.” She sobbed. “Where are you when I need a deal? When I need something? When I need my Joanna Beth back?”
“Hey Ellen?” Dean held her as tight as she would let him. “If I could have, I’d’ve done it for her, too… might’ve been nice. Two grateful Harvelle women, catering to me. One for experience and one for teaching.”
She snorted. “You’re a crude son of a bitch, Dean.”
“What’d he say now?” Sam leaned in the doorway to the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his head.
“He’s just cheering her up.” Carmen allowed Ellen a moment to get her face under control. “Hungry?” While Sam’s back was turned, Dean used his shirt to dry Ellen’s face. Together, they stumbled over to the bed in the next room. “So, Sam…”
“Yeah… after the hospital, I figured…” Sam poked at his dinner but his eyes kept sliding back to his brother and Ellen. “What’s going on?”
“A few nights ago… I was attacked and Dean came to the rescue. He ran off before I could thank him properly… and then my mother decided she was going to make him dinner and that I’d be the one to bring it to him.” Carmen nodded to herself. “I got rained on and that’s why I’m wearing his clothes.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Sam chuckled to himself. “A few months ago… I’d probably be a little more indignant about it.” He cleared his throat. “What’s disturbing me right now is where Ellen’s hands are.”
“Dean’s a flirt but… there’s nothing but friendly kisses there.” Oddly, that felt good to say out loud.
“Still, that weirds me out, too.”
“I think she’s the only physical contact he’s had since it happened.” Carmen mused aloud. “Dean doesn’t like to initiate touch and… I’m sorry but the man I’ve encountered doesn’t match the one that you were telling me about while he was sleeping.”
“Trust me. If I’d lie about Dean, it’d be to make him look good. He can look bad all on his own.” He scoffed a little. “Frankly, I’m surprised he’s improved her mood so much. Sensitivity is not Dean’s forte… but then… Ellen’s not just any woman.”
“You can say that again.”
Ellen leaned her head on Dean’s shoulder where they were slouched against the wall on the bed. One hand on his thigh and the other on her own. Wallowing in the buzz still circling her brain. “Dean… how do you do it? Wake up knowing that it’s… one day less?”
“Carefully, until I find where I left my glasses.” He slipped his arm around her middle, anchoring her body to him in case she started sliding to the floor.
“Why haven’t you kissed her, yet, Dean?”
“She kissed me.”
“But you didn’t kiss her back?” She felt him shake his head into her hair. “Well, Dean… that’s just not like you.”
“Well, I’m a lot scarier than I used to be.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re cuddled up with a middle-aged, widowed mother in mourning. That slip of nothing over there is putting up with your bullshit and sticking around for what? If I’m not mistaken, there was a fancy little car in the driveway that probably belongs to her. If she’s just grateful you saved her a beating… she’d’ve dropped off Mom’s casserole and been done with it.” Ellen patted his hand around her waist. “Wasn’t nine months ago we had to go hunting you down cause you went on a bender in New Orleans. Couldn’t keep your dick in your pants and now what… pretty girl wants to show her appreciation and you’re hiding under hoods like a twelve-year-old.” She tsked him. “You even thought to pay a ten dollar hooker to take the edge off?”
He erupted in laughter and it felt good. Sam’s digs never hit home like that… like the kid was afraid to run Dean off if he hit too close to a nerve. “Yeah… you gonna give me the ten dollars?”
“For God’s sake, Dean… You got fifty days left. Live ‘em. Don’t cut yourself off and get bitter before the Hellhound comes.”
“New Orleans… Good times…”
“What was that girl doing? The one with all the beads. I thought she was going to tip over.”
“You should have seen what she did to get all those beads.” Dean laughed softly and grinned to himself.
“I’m all ears and it had better be worth it.”
Sam shook his head at the raucous laughter in the other ‘room’. Half of him wondered what was going on and the other half didn’t want to know in the least. “At least I brought her to the right place.”
“I haven’t seen him smile so much in one evening than I have in the last hour,” Carmen marveled. She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You painted me this picture of a handsome hero who drew the short straw. This happy-go-lucky guy who just stepped in a big pile of shit.” She sipped her tea while Sam helped himself to a third helping. “I had this picture of the guy we’d see when he woke up and then he was silent and that just… I don’t know… strengthened my mental image.”
“Then an asshole showed up and you thought I was nuts.” Sam laughed to himself.
“He told me that the reason he was an asshole was because he had a dream of me about a year ago.” She grinned as she recalled the expression on the side of Dean’s face that he had allowed her to see. Sam lifted his head to say something but he didn’t know what to say or to ask her. “That he got knocked on the head and had this… I don’t know… Wizard of Oz dream. His own perfect little world that vanished when he woke up. That I was in it and he didn’t think he’d ever meet me… God, it kind of sounds like a cheesy pick up line now. He could have made it up.”
“Perfect little world?” Sam swallowed thickly. “Did he say who all was in it?”
“You and me and your mom…”
“Oh my God…” Sam whispered and turned to look at his brother… laughing to mask the pain. “It wasn’t a pick up line.”
“Oh no?”
“No… he… usually goes a lot more blatant with his lines.”
“I feel stupid, is what I feel. It’s pretty clear that he’s not interested and I keep bugging him. I don’t want to say that I feel sorry for him but it sucks what’s happened to him and he’s alone. You come and go… the same with Ellen… and maybe I’m just suffering the glare of having been rescued like a damned fairy tale.”
“I think you scare him.” Sam cleared his throat. “I think you need to trust me that he’s interested. If he really wanted you gone, he probably would have made you disappear.”
“I don’t know what I want from him and you’re right. He could have told me to fuck off already. He could have told me he expected to get laid for saving my life… for which I would have totally racked him and gone running. By the way…” She looked to the younger Winchester brother. “How many languages does he speak?”
“Four conversationally, that I know of… and can read about two others and recognize a half dozen more.” When she seemed to want more, Sam shrugged. “I’ve heard him use Spanish, Portuguese and French to pick up chicks. Latin pronunciation sucks but he knows it written and spoken. German pronunciation is spot on but he can’t understand what he’s reading. I know he can differentiate about four dialects of Hindi but I couldn’t tell you if he could read them.”
“Wow… I thought he was just spouting off.” She smiled into her cup and shrugged. “His Spanish is better than mine. I mostly just use it to curse. He… talked to my parents…”
“Wow. He met the parents. It’s serious. Is there a China pattern in the future?”
“Funny.” She screwed up her mouth. “But God… if my mother had her way. She’d have me married and pregnant by the end of the week.”
“To that low life?” Sam pointed to where both Dean and Ellen were laughing so hard, they ceased to make sounds.
“You should have heard her. ‘Mi hija. He’s such a nice man. Very strong and handsome on the one side. Too bad about the scars but the children won’t have those. And he speaks Spanish and did you see how he jumped the fence. Ooh! Muy macho.’ I wanted to vomit on her shoes.” She rolled her eyes at the memory and shuddered at how persistent her mother could be.
“How… um… Have you seen him in public?” Sam’s forehead creased with worry.
“He hides.” Carmen’s smile faded. “He panics if the hood comes off. Mom thought it gave him character. My sister said he looked demonic but… today… a little girl just hugged him and kissed him like she didn’t even see them.”
“A little girl did?”
“Um, some friends of his that we ran into today.”
“Dean has friends here?”
“They asked about you. Jenny was the mother.”
“Sari and Ritchie were the kids.” Sam nodded. “I can’t believe I forgot about them. How did they look? Happy?”
“Yeah. I suppose they did. Jenny kept trying to get Dean to commit to having dinner over there… and uh… Sari made him promise not to marry me because she had dibs.”
Sam laughed out loud at that. “Sari… yeah…”
Carmen flicked her gaze to the window. “Looks like it’s letting up. I should get going.” She put her cup in the sink and grabbed her clothes. “Hey Dean… I’m gonna go.”
Dean sat up and flicked his eyes to Ellen before getting up. “I’ll walk you down.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I left my phone downstairs anyway.”
“Oh man… did you get it already?” Sam burst out laughing.
“Yeah… in all its Hello Kitty! glory.” Dean rolled his eyes and threw a punch at his brother. He followed Carmen down the stairs. It still rained lightly but nothing too bad. He popped his head into the garage and yanked the phone and its cord from the wall. He flipped the door down and stepped around the Impala to the little Cobalt beside it. “So… um… thanks for dinner. Sorry I wasn’t better company.”
Carmen nodded as she unlocked her door. “So… uh… give me a call when you’re done with the dish… I’ll swing your clothes back around, too.” She grimaced as she realized that every visit to Dean’s apartment had resulted in her leaving with some of his clothes.
“Call you?” Dean frowned. Had he heard that right?
“Here.” She took the ridiculously cute phone and punched her phone number in.
“Um… hey, listen… about all the lesbian action stuff I was going on about earlier… I was just trying to get a laugh out of Ellen.”
“I know.”
“It’s just… I spent a good deal of time being a jerk to you and…” Dean didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I… uh… don’t know a whole lot of people anymore… you know? Cause I move so much… For once, it’d be nice for a girl to have nice things to remember about me.”
“Okay…” She stepped into him. “This time… when I kiss you… at least pretend you like it.”
“I…” Dean thought about turning his head away but that could contradict what he had just said. He let her draw his head down, let her lips smooth over his. He let out a breath and natural instinct kicked in. His hand slipped around her back as he nudged her mouth open. Tamping down the urge to throw her down on the hood of her car, he had to put some space between them. “How was that?”
“Much better.” She let loose a breath into his shirt. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, Dean. Goodnight.”
“Night, Carmen.” He stood there until she’d gotten in her car and turned it around the corner. His heart pounded out a beat. Fifty. Fifty. He jogged up the stairs and found his houseguests perusing his rentals. Ellen winked at him. “So you were watching.”
“Had to make sure we didn’t screw up your night.” She snorted and settled on the bed once more. “I like her.”
“I thought you said she was the mother of all bitches.” Dean checked his salt lines as he shut the door behind him.
“Eh… she put me in a bad mood that day.”
“When did you call her that?” Sam laughed and tossed the movies aside.
“After she yelled at your brother for not letting other people take care of him… which he deserved but she doesn’t know him like we do.” She patted the bed. “C’mon, sparky. Bed time.”
“You know… it’s really disturbing the way you two…” Sam couldn’t even put it into words. And it weirded the hell out of him the way it seemed that his brother and Ellen Harvelle would be sharing a bed. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”
Dean settled himself on the bed, arching his back to remove the gun from his jeans. He just slid it under his pillow. He stared at the ceiling with Ellen’s back to him for a long moment. “Ellen?”
“I’ll be okay in the morning.” This time it was Ellen’s turn to be comforted. “I miss yelling at her.” She rolled over to rest her head on Dean’s shoulder. “I keep calling out her full name… just hoping she’ll pop up somewhere and tell me to cut it out.”
“I didn’t figure she liked that much.”
“I wanted grandkids, Dean. I never thought for a moment that I wouldn’t have them eventually.”
“Tell you what… I’ll give you my kid. You can spoil the hell out of him.”
“Dean.” Sam spoke from across the room but never finished his protest. It was the same old fight and he didn’t want to waste the time he had left. Eventually, Ellen babbled herself to sleep. A few moments after that, Dean was snoring but Sam stayed up and stared at the ceiling… trying to find the right pieces to save his brother.
Forty-five. His feet tapped out the numbers as he slowly paced his way to Carmen’s apartment. He hadn’t called her but his finger had hovered over the button more than once. He decided to walk over and leave the dish on the mat or at the office. He didn’t have to see her at all. Just leave the dish and go.
Somehow he got to her landing and didn’t know what to do. Her windows were open, music was playing and lots of laughter streamed out. He could just leave the dish and be home in an hour. Taking a deep breath, he took one step toward the door and the damned thing swung open. “I think it’s the pizza guy, Carmen!” Dean froze. Damn it! The blonde turned and blinked at him. “Holy shit! What happened to your face?”
Jaw set… it still stung and his shoulders hunched in as if he’d been punched. He should have never come. He turned to go. And then he heard her voice. “Dean?”
“You know this guy?”
“Hey! No guys! That was a rule!” A slurred voice called from a window.
“I just came to… drop this off.” Dean turned back and held the pan out.
“Thanks… I was kind of expecting you to call. I would have gone to get it.” She handed the pan off to her friend and attempted to shut the door but there were several hands that kept it ajar.
“I just figured you’d be busy… cause… you work and… yeah.”
She peered out into the lot. “Where’s Sam? Or Ellen?”
“They took off that next morning.”
“Was Ellen okay?”
“She’ll be fine.” Dean nodded.
“With a friend like you, of course she will.” She shook her head at the memory of all she’d heard and cast her eye to the lot again. “Did you walk?”
“I’m not approved to drive yet… I’m missing a dimension.” He made a gesture next to his face. “They left me the car but… I… anyway…” He swallowed down a lump. “By the way… Ellen says she doesn’t remember agreeing to a lesbian roll in the hay but I told her you’d back me up on that.”
“She blacked out?”
“Nah.” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over his hood. “Ellen ran a saloon until last year, she could drink you, me and Sam under the table without getting a buzz.”
“You know, I love it when you smile.” She reached out to touch his cheek but his eyes flicked to their audience, poorly concealed by the open door and windows, and he stepped back.
“Don’t patronize me, Carmen. I just came to give the dish back.”
“Dammit, Dean!” She slugged him in the shoulder. “When are you going to get it through that thick skull that I don’t pity you?”
“If not pity, then what? It’s not my charming good looks cause those kind of melted away.”
Carmen took a breath and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. “I admire you. You can’t help what happened but I don’t really see it slowing you down.”
“Still things I can’t do.”
“Still a lot of things you can do.”
“Added one more thing. I can scare a room full of beautiful women into silence.”
“Let me get your clothes.” She reached for the door and the stampede of feet running away from the door was hardly subtle.
“Keep ‘em.”
“No. Just wait.” Then she grabbed his arm and tugged him inside the apartment. He was quick to use his other hand to fix his hood. She left him standing in a room with six woman who all had drinks in hand. She reappeared with two hoodies, two undershirts and two pairs of his flannels. “Guys, this is Dean. Dean these are my friends Lacey, Lynn, Jennifer, Deborah, Trudy and Nancy. Trudy is the rude one who answered the door.”
“Love you, too, babe.” Trudy raised her glass to take a huge drink.
“Dean?” Nancy asked. “How did you two meet?”
“I was in the hospital.” Dean cleared his throat.
“He’s also very brave and saved my life.” Carmen laid a hand on his chest. “Got me home safely… and did the dealing with my parents.”
“Wow. Talent.” Nancy tipped her glass to him.
“Mama cooked for him.”
“Okay. Now I’m awed.” Jennifer lifted her glass to him as well. “I’ve been her best friend since the second grade and Mama has never cooked for me.”
“Well, you did drop her off stinking drunk about six times junior year.” Lynn cleared her throat. “So, you’re the infamous Dean, huh.”
“Hey… um… You’re David’s girlfriend, right? He’s a cool guy.” Dean offered lamely.
“Well, he thinks so.” Lynn drew in a breath and the other women raised their glasses and took a drink. “David…”
Carmen leaned in. “He’s in the burn unit, right now. A blaze the other night. Nothing too bad.”
“Well, he’s got the fire brigade chilling in his room.” Lynn looked up to Dean from her seat. “So… Carmen’s got your clothes?”
“Unauthorized sleepovers…” Deborah or Lacey sing-songed.
“Guys, enough.” Carmen shook her head at them.
“What? It’s not like he believes you’re a virgin.”
“This is a girl’s night.” Trudy stood up with her drink and peered into Dean’s hood. “If he’s gonna stay, he’s gonna have to strip and show us some moves.” Her hands began to pull at his hoodie’s zipper. “You boxers or briefs?”
Both Dean and Carmen choked at that. Carmen began pushing him to the door. “Go, run, now. She will totally start trying to stick dollar bills down your pants.”
He let himself be pushed to the door. “I can always use the extra cash.”
“You’re…”
“Just meat to you ladies.”
“If they’re ladies, Ellen’s the Queen of England.”
Dean stepped outside the apartment, laughter reaching his ears from inside. “Yeah, real bad girls. Sitting around, eating pizza, drinking and ragging on men. I’ll bet Lawrence doesn’t have any real bad girls. The only truly bad girl left about four days ago.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She tapped her fingers on his chest. “Okay. Fine. Friday night, I’ll pick you up and you can take me to find some trouble.”
“You’re on.” Dean turned and made it to the landing. When he heard the door shut, he realized what he’d just done. “Sneaky bitch.”
