Brained
title: Brained
part: 6 of ?
rated: PG/K+
spoilers: none
warnings: this fic has crack-y origins
summary: A hunt at a haunted library leaves Sam wondering just what happened to his brother.
Sam stood just inside of the kitchen doorway and stared. How could he not have realized that the sound he heard had been Dean escaping? No, not Dean. Dean was not the one that they were trying to keep captive. It was whatever was using Dean's body that he and Bobby wanted to detain. And now it was free and his older brother was along for the ride. Where could it have gone?
“Sam,” Bobby snapped. Sam looked up and found that Bobby had already opened the back door and had started to leave. “There's no where to hide in here, kid. And he couldn't have left the way we just came in or we'd've seen him.” Sam still stood on the same part, looking as if his brain was having trouble keeping up with what Bobby was saying. “Come on!”
They were just getting to the heart of the salvage yard when they heard the unmistakable sound of the Impala starting up.
“Oh crap,” Sam mumbled and took off at top sped for the front of the house. He got there just in time to get a face full of dust and dirt for his trouble. He was coughing badly enough, as panting from the run caused him to inhale quite a bit of Bobby's driveway, to hear the pick-up that had pulled up beside him.
“Sam!” Bobby shouted from inside. “Get in! Come on!”
* * *
“Damn it,” Sam grumbled, jabbing the 'end' button on his phone. He had been trying to call Dean for the last five minutes - once all of his coughing had stopped - but only got the voice mail. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to call his brother, but Sam couldn't honestly say he believed Dean would pick up.
He shook his shaggy head, trying to clear it. The fuzziness seemed to keep coming and going. But now, in his moments of clarity, Sam could think again. And he did. And he thought of something.
“Bobby,” he turned to the older hunter who had yet to say anything during their drive, “is this happening to him, too?”
“What are you talking about Sam?”
“My brain. It keeps going from hazy to clear and back again. I'm assuming it's because of the sedative,” he told Bobby, getting clearer every second. “Is this happening to Dean, too?”
“Well,” Bobby shifted in his seat, “my guess would be yes. Only...”
“Only what, Bobby?”
“Only, I'm a little worried that it'll be worse.”
Sam just stared at him.
“Well, think about it kid. The sedative got to him more than it did you. The side effects probably work the same way. That's why we got to get to him before something happens to him,” Bobby told him, then lowered his voice, almost talking to himself. “That's why I'm worried about him driving.”
Sam heard, though he wasn't sure if he was meant to or not. But it did bring up another point.
“Bobby, where are we going?” he asked. The dusty trail of the Impala had completely disappeared now that they were driving along a paved road.
“Well,up here along this road,” Bobby said with a nod of his head toward the windshield, “there's a hole-in-the-wall, little town that your daddy liked to go to whenever he was around. There's not much there, but there are a couple of greasy spoons that are good for a home cooked breakfast. There's also a half dozen bars and a couple of pool halls. If your brother's feeling a bit touched in the head, he's certainly not going to risk his precious car by driving while woozy.”
* * *
It was just after four o'clock and they had not yet found Dean. The diners had been easy enough to check, most of them had small parking lots at the front of the buildings and the Impala was noticeably absent. There were two that they had to actually drive around in the parking lot - one because the lot was large and at the back of the restaurant and the other because it seemed the place for truckers to stop and it was impossible to see past all of the semis without driving up and down all of the rows.
“Bobby, it's already getting dark.”
“Yep,” the older hunter said, “day's been overcast. Looks like a storm's coming in fast. 'Course, it'd start getting dark in an hour so so anyway.”
The bars had been placed along the outskirts of the little town. Apparently, the townsfolk hadn't wanted a taproom or pool hall at the center of its community. That was fine for the people that lived here, but for Sam and Bobby, it made the search just take that much longer. Whereas the diners had been in a nice row down the main strip, the bars were scattered and strategically placed to make Sam more anxious.
Like Sam, Bobby had hoped that Dean had just found a place to get some good old fashioned, non-spiked coffee. Something to clear his head before moving on. But, when had luck ever been in a hunter's favor?
They had to look closely at the cars in these places, too, since muscle cars and black cars and black muscle cars were not so uncommon. All in all, it was taking too long.