Beneath Watchful Eyes 3
With this chapter I felt the need to consult with people more in the know than I am about CPS, and I discovered that this story isn’t as true to real life as I usually like it to be. But since the first two chapters were already posted I felt that I should stick with what I have, rather than make changes now. I did contemplate re-writing the chapters I’d posted, but since none of you complained about anything I decided against it. The information I have has given me something to think about if I ever choose to write other stories along this line.
Beneath Watchful Eyes
Beneath Watchful Eyes 2
Title: Beneath Watchful Eyes 3
Show: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Dean [age 15]
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural
"What do we do now?" Sam asked whispering directly into Dean's ear.
He shook his head not taking his eyes off the front of the van where the CPS agent kept glancing back at them. There wasn't much they could do, Dean was on high alert looking for a way to escape but surrounded pinned in the back of a van didn't leave them with any options. He wanted to fight it out every step of the way, but knew the more difficult he made things the less likely they'd be to get an opening to escape.
"Daddy's going to be mad..." Sam said head down just as the van was pulling into the hospital parking lot.
"Not at you," Dean assured squeezing his brother's knee, "Just follow my lead okay?"
Sammy nodded his head, "Okay."
The van came to a stop close to the emergency room doors, and Samantha looked back over her shoulder at them. "C'mon boys," she urged opening the passenger's side door. The man who'd grabbed Dean got out and reached back for Sam who knocked the man's hand away before moving for the door.
Dean smirked to himself as he followed behind, the rain had lightened up a little but it didn't matter Dean's shirt was already soaked through. They were ushered inside the officers walking on either side while Samantha Rose led the way. Dean watched warily as she made a stop at the nurses station, the woman behind the counter came around to lead them deeper into the hospital.
The nurse opened one of the exam room doors, both she and the CPS agent stood to either side waiting for Dean and Sam to enter first. Offering his brother a slight nodded Dean moved to walk forward but was halted when one of the officers took hold of his duffel. Dean's grip tightened as he glared up at the older man. There wasn't anything dangerous for someone 'normal' to see, but Dean wasn't about to give up what might be their only means of escape.
"It's alright Ryan," Agent Rose said, which surprised Dean, "Let him keep the bag."
The officer nodded and Dean followed his brother into the empty exam room, no windows but there was a second door which could either lead back out into the hall or just into a closet. Escape didn't look all that promising at the moment.
"Could you get some warm blankets and something dry for the boys to wear?" Dean heard Samantha ask the nurse before the door closed. "We don't need either of you catching a cold," the agent said, as she took at seat in the free office chair.
"We can take care of ourselves," Dean told her bluntly placing the duffel on the exam table and unzipped it.
"I can see that," she commented watching him intently. "Was it you father who told you to run if we ever came?"
Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled out a warm sweatshirt for Sammy to wear, "Aren't all kids taught never to open the door for strangers?" he returned tone dry as he helped Sammy out of his wet coat and shirt. For his part Sam was just silently watching the exchange sitting on the edge of his seat.
"I haven't come across all that many with bags packed ready to jump out the bathroom window."
He knew it looked suspicious, there was no helping that. But their situation was far from normal, they walked a careful line most days, and Dean could have kicked himself for tearing his stitches which started all this.
"Dean," Samantha's voice was low attempting at comforting he thought. "I'm not the enemy here."
"Could've fooled me," Dean told her dryly, as he glanced around his surroundings. "May not be a prison but I sure feel like I'm being held against my will, what about you Sam?" he asked while resting a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder.
Sammy nodded his head, "I want to go home."
"You want this to be over quickly, let me know how to get a hold of your father," Samantha attempted.
"Shouldn't you already know that?" Dean returned beginning to unbutton his sodden jacket.
"No matter what's happened Dean, I need to speak to your father, he has some questions to answer." The door next to Samantha opened as the nurse stepped inside with gray blankets in hand.
"Dad hasn't done anything wrong!" Dean said firmly glaring daggers at both the agent and nurse.
The nurse cleared her throat, "Dr. Hensen will be with you soon," she informed passing the blankets to Samantha before closing the door again.
"Here Samuel," Samantha said passing the younger Winchester one of the blankets. Sam accepted it with a distrustful look on his face.
Dean unbuttoned his shirt not entirely sure he wanted to take it off, despite cold that had already seeped into his skin from the wet material. "So do you investigate every incident of rough housing?" he asked tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Your teacher didn't seem to think that was the case," was the immediate reply, and it made Dean see red.
"Why?" he demanded turning to face her, "Because kids in 'abusive' situations lie?" he shook his head, it was a no win situation for him. Samantha opened her mouth to speak but Dean pressed on, "Where's Todd? Rugby accident had stitches; he pulled them a few days ago."
The agent sighed, "Dean your teacher has been watching you for a while, and she's had more than enough reasons to be concerned." It was a blanket response something Dean wasn't surprised to hear, he didn't actually expect her to accept his arguments, that wasn't what she was paid for.
The door opened suddenly as an older man in a white lab coat stepped into the room, with a clipboard in hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said directing his attention to the CPS agent.
"Not at all Dr. Hensen," she replied with a smile, "I'd like you to meet Dean and Samuel Winchester."
He turned his full attention on them, with a friendly smile; Dean supposed he was what a grandfather looked like though he felt no warmth towards the man. "I'm Dr. Hensen," he introduced offering his hand but Dean just looked at it before returning his eyes to the man's face. The doctor seemed completely unfazed by Dean's cold response, "You can call me Tom."
"What seems to be the problem?" it sounded as though he was simply asking in general, so Dean decided to answer.
"It 'seems' like people are confused," he said bitterly. Samantha offered the doctor a sympathetic look, which only caused Dean's frustration to rise, "I'm not being abused!" He didn't know how much more plainly he could say it.
"Dr. Hensen, standard procedure, I want a full examination," she said completely ignoring Dean.
From behind, Dean felt Sam's hand take hold of his shirt; they both knew the likely hood of their story holding up to an examination weren't promising. But Dean would be damned if he was going to let these 'adults' walk all over him.
The doctor nodded his head, but stepped towards the door, "Would you mind giving us some privacy?" he asked opening the door to let agent Rose out. The CPS agent cast one last look in Dean’s direction before nodding and leaving the room.
Dr. Hensen turned back towards them pulling a stool to him with his left foot before taking a seat on it, which brought him, closer to Dean’s eye level. “So,” he began tone light, “Are you boys alright?”
“Yes,” Dean replied firmly, “Not that you’ll believe me,” he added in a low mutter.
“Will you at least give me a chance?” Tom asked with an encouraging smile.
Dean just watched the man suspiciously not about to agree with anything.
“You must be freezing,” he said clearly not bothered by Dean’s silence as he slid his stool across the floor to the thermostat and adjusted the temperature. He came back over and took hold of the second blanket, “Why don’t you take off that wet shirt?”
He considered the suggestion for a moment, the blood on his shirt though wet was still obvious. Still he hesitated to do anything that the doctor asked him too.
“So Samuel is it?” he asked the youngest Winchester. For his part Sammy cast Dean a questioning look before mutely nodding his head.
Dr. Hensen smiled, “How old are you Samuel?”
Again Sammy looked to Dean first, but the older Winchester nodded his approval as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid it from his shoulders. “Eleven,” he said hugging the warm blanket closer around him.
“Do you and your brother rough house a lot?” he asked then, blue eyes flickering between Sam and Dean, though they lingered on the bloody gauze tapped to Dean’s shoulder.
Sammy just shrugged.
But it didn’t matter Dr. Hensen’s attention was back on Dean, “How’d this happen?” Tom asked pointing at the line of stitches.
“Why are you asking me?” Dean demanded taking a step back from the doctor, but found his back pressed against the exam table. The doctor looked somewhat taken aback by Dean’s tone, “Doesn’t your clipboard already say abuse?”
“No,” Tom said placing the clipboard on the edge of the table, “Should it?”
Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Let me put it to you this way, I don’t want to make judgments either way not without proof.”
He sounded honest, but Dean didn’t believe it. In the past adults had accepted Dean’s answers for previous injuries, but they’d always made judgments. That’s where the problems kept coming from, and he wasn’t eager to help this doctor make his decision.
The silence in the room stretched on for several minutes as the doctor’s blue eyes studied Dean intently. “Can I take a look at it?” he requested finally, shifting the stool along the tiled floor.
“Sure,” Dean deadpanned but stepped away the minute Dr. Hensen’s hands reached for him, “You already are.”
Tom sighed, resting hands on his knees, “Can you tell me how you tore your stitches?”
“Putting my backpack on?” Dean shrugged; he hadn’t even noticed doing it at the time.
“And you cut your shoulder breaking a table?” Dr. Hensen clarified glancing at the clipboard to his right. Dean merely nodded his head, “But you told your teacher it was a cat scratch?” it sounded as though he was trying to understand.
Dean felt as though he was being pulled into a trap, “I didn’t need her to worry.”
“Did you have these stitches done here?” he inquired pulling a pen from his breast pocket.
“No,” Dean drew a breath; he was going to have to be careful here, “Small clinic north of town.”
The pen scribbled across the paper, “Looks like he did a fine job, can I take a look at the one you tore?”
Dean was a little surprised that the doctor didn’t call for more information, like the name of the clinic, the doctor who helped, why they’d gone there in the first place? Instead he patted the edge of the exam table and nudged the step stool a little closer to Dean’s legs a none too subtle request that’s where he wanted Dean to be.
At the moment Dean was grateful to the fact that he hadn’t gone home and immediately taken something for the pain. They had precious few of those pills, and he’d made a habit of saving them for the longest parts of the day, besides that they had a tendency to slow his reaction time, both physically and mentally. And he needed to be on top of his game.
The doctor was more patient that Dean had expected him to be, he was still waiting for Dean to climb up onto the exam table. The expression on his face made it clear he was willing to wait as long as it took. Casting a quick glance at his brother, Dean sighed; there’d be no escaping with the doctor in the room.
With a good deal of reluctance Dean got onto the exam table, expression darkening at the smile he was given. Dr. Hensen raised a hand towards Dean’s shoulder, “On the count of three I’m going to pull the bandage off okay?”
Dean didn’t bother responding; knowing it always hurt less if the band aid was removed quickly. Despite that Dean’s shoulder jerked back away from the pain, Tom reached out his right hand to steady him. “This doesn’t look too bad,” the doctor commented with a friendly tone, “You shouldn’t even have much of a scar.”
“Can I go now?” Dean asked impatiently, hazel eyes watching the doctor’s hands.
“No, not yet,” Tom said, and he almost sounded apologetic before his attention shifted to pulling some supplies from one of the cupboards.
Dean shifted on the edge of the table fighting the urge the support his chest with one of his arms. All he really wanted to do was lay down and take the pressure off, he forced himself to straighten as Dr. Hensen turned back towards him. Everything he needed to clean and re-patch Dean’s shoulder was laid out on a small metal table.
A surprisingly loud grumble brought the doctor to a halt as he turned his attention towards Sam who was blushing with embarrassment, “You boys haven’t had dinner yet have you?” he asked offering Sammy an understanding smile.
“We were about to, when the Gestapo showed up,” Dean muttered moving towards the duffel which was further down the table.
“Now hold on there,” Tom reprimanded moving to stop Dean.
The young hunter flinched away from the touch, hoping his wince of pain wasn’t too obvious as the doctor brought the bag up beside Dean. He reached into the still opened bag, not wanting the doctor to get a look inside. The last thing he needed was to try and explain the bottle of holy water and box of salt hidden on the bottom. Pulling out a couple of granola bars for Sam, Dean carefully tossed them over before his attention returned to Dr. Hensen.
“Your father didn’t happen to be a Boy Scout did he?”
Dean shook his head, breathing shallowly, “Marine.” He didn’t like volunteering information, but there wasn’t much the doctor could do with that knowledge.
“Close enough,” he smiled as he finished applying the bandage to Dean’s shoulder. “You know, by running people might think you have something to hide…” Tom commented blue eyes looking directly into Dean’s.
“How about, we can take care of ourselves?” Dean returned not liking the slight strain to his voice.
Tom was studying him intently, “There’s a lot of us out there that don’t think children as young as you should have to take care of themselves.” He took hold of Dean’s wrist fingers pressing in tightly as the doctor looked down at his wrist watch. “Do you have any other injuries?” he asked then looking back up.
“Would you believe me if I said no?” he asked not bothering to muster up any sarcasm.
“I’d like to,” Dr. Hensen said honestly, “But I’ve been doing this for a long time Dean,” he continued eyes piercing Dean where he sat. “I know when someone’s in pain.”
Dean reacted quickly, “My shoulder really aches,” he tried honesty, wishing he had Sam’s gift for making it so real.
The Doctor nodded in what Dean thought was understanding, “Lift up your shirt,” he said motioning with his left hand.
“Why?” he asked in an attempt to prolong the inevitable.
“Because I think you’re hiding something Dean,” Tom replied easily, tone non-threatening.
He sat a little straighter, only after realizing that might have just confirmed the doctor’s suspicions. “I’m fine, you said you wanted to believe me,” Dean threw out in a last ditch effort if they found cracked or broken ribs it would only make everything worse. “You patched up my arm, we’re both good, we just want to go home,” Dean hoped his voice didn’t sound too frantic, he was really grasping at straws here.
“Dean,” the doctor began when someone knocked on the door.
Agent Rose poked her head in, “Dr. Hensen can we speak to you outside please?”
Dean watched the door close behind them and quickly got off the exam table, gasping for breath then his feet hit the ground. Sammy was out of his chair in an instant, “What’s going on Dean?” he asked worriedly.
“I don’t know,” he said reaching into the duffel for his own warm shit and quickly pulled it on over his shoulder. It didn’t really matter what they were talking about outside, this could be the only chance they had to slip away. “C’mon,” Dean took Sam’s hand and went for the second door, testing the handle, not surprised to see that it was locked.
Dropping the duffel off his shoulder Dean knelt beside it and quickly fished out the lock picking tools his dad had got him as a birthday present the other year. He was just beginning to maneuver the pins when he heard the other door open again, “Alright boys,” a new voice said, and Dean quickly slipped the tools out of sight.
Dean looked suspiciously at the newcomer, pushing Sam behind him. The man was older, hair almost completely grey, and he proudly wore his badge on the front of his dark blue suit. He offered Dean and Sam a small smile, “I’m Commissioner Riven, you’re going to come with me now.”
-Riven- Dean repeated the name in his head several times, it sounded very familiar. “You’re Dad’s waiting,” he coaxed quietly, and it suddenly hit Dean, a wave of relief washing over him. The family they’d helped over the weekend had been the Riven’s; squeezing Sammy’s hand reassuringly Dean stepped towards the man.
He led them out of the exam room, Dean glanced briefly at the doctor, and the CPS agent, neither looked thrilled with what was happening. But to Dean’s relief they didn’t move forward to stop them. They took a direct path out of the hospital to the visitor’s parking lot; Sammy released his hand the minute they were out the door, running a head to where their dad waited leaning against the Impala.
“Thanks Jake,” John said taking the Commissioner’s hand, his left arm wrapped tightly around Sam’s shoulders.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Jake replied with a shake of his head, “If it weren’t for you, I’d have lost my granddaughter for good.”
“How’re you doing Ace?”
Dean felt a blush creep into his cheeks, “I’m alright.”
John scratched at his cheek, “So, what about all this?”
“It’ll take a bit too smooth things out,” the Commissioner commented glancing back over his shoulder at the hospital. “I’ll do what I can to help you slip back under the radar.”
“All the same I doubt we’ll be around much longer,” John reached out his free hand and dropped it on Dean’s head.
“Well thanks again.”
John nodded, accepting the man’s hand one last time before turning back to the Impala, “Let’s go boys.” Dean sighed in relief climbing into the front seat of their car and relaxed back as best he could.
“That was too close,” he breathed as his dad started the engine.
“You did fine Ace,” John assured, resting his hand on the side of Dean’s neck, as they drove away from the hospital.
Thanks for Reading! I hope you enjoyed this fic.
Beneath Watchful Eyes
Beneath Watchful Eyes 2
Title: Beneath Watchful Eyes 3
Show: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Dean [age 15]
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural
"What do we do now?" Sam asked whispering directly into Dean's ear.
He shook his head not taking his eyes off the front of the van where the CPS agent kept glancing back at them. There wasn't much they could do, Dean was on high alert looking for a way to escape but surrounded pinned in the back of a van didn't leave them with any options. He wanted to fight it out every step of the way, but knew the more difficult he made things the less likely they'd be to get an opening to escape.
"Daddy's going to be mad..." Sam said head down just as the van was pulling into the hospital parking lot.
"Not at you," Dean assured squeezing his brother's knee, "Just follow my lead okay?"
Sammy nodded his head, "Okay."
The van came to a stop close to the emergency room doors, and Samantha looked back over her shoulder at them. "C'mon boys," she urged opening the passenger's side door. The man who'd grabbed Dean got out and reached back for Sam who knocked the man's hand away before moving for the door.
Dean smirked to himself as he followed behind, the rain had lightened up a little but it didn't matter Dean's shirt was already soaked through. They were ushered inside the officers walking on either side while Samantha Rose led the way. Dean watched warily as she made a stop at the nurses station, the woman behind the counter came around to lead them deeper into the hospital.
The nurse opened one of the exam room doors, both she and the CPS agent stood to either side waiting for Dean and Sam to enter first. Offering his brother a slight nodded Dean moved to walk forward but was halted when one of the officers took hold of his duffel. Dean's grip tightened as he glared up at the older man. There wasn't anything dangerous for someone 'normal' to see, but Dean wasn't about to give up what might be their only means of escape.
"It's alright Ryan," Agent Rose said, which surprised Dean, "Let him keep the bag."
The officer nodded and Dean followed his brother into the empty exam room, no windows but there was a second door which could either lead back out into the hall or just into a closet. Escape didn't look all that promising at the moment.
"Could you get some warm blankets and something dry for the boys to wear?" Dean heard Samantha ask the nurse before the door closed. "We don't need either of you catching a cold," the agent said, as she took at seat in the free office chair.
"We can take care of ourselves," Dean told her bluntly placing the duffel on the exam table and unzipped it.
"I can see that," she commented watching him intently. "Was it you father who told you to run if we ever came?"
Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled out a warm sweatshirt for Sammy to wear, "Aren't all kids taught never to open the door for strangers?" he returned tone dry as he helped Sammy out of his wet coat and shirt. For his part Sam was just silently watching the exchange sitting on the edge of his seat.
"I haven't come across all that many with bags packed ready to jump out the bathroom window."
He knew it looked suspicious, there was no helping that. But their situation was far from normal, they walked a careful line most days, and Dean could have kicked himself for tearing his stitches which started all this.
"Dean," Samantha's voice was low attempting at comforting he thought. "I'm not the enemy here."
"Could've fooled me," Dean told her dryly, as he glanced around his surroundings. "May not be a prison but I sure feel like I'm being held against my will, what about you Sam?" he asked while resting a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder.
Sammy nodded his head, "I want to go home."
"You want this to be over quickly, let me know how to get a hold of your father," Samantha attempted.
"Shouldn't you already know that?" Dean returned beginning to unbutton his sodden jacket.
"No matter what's happened Dean, I need to speak to your father, he has some questions to answer." The door next to Samantha opened as the nurse stepped inside with gray blankets in hand.
"Dad hasn't done anything wrong!" Dean said firmly glaring daggers at both the agent and nurse.
The nurse cleared her throat, "Dr. Hensen will be with you soon," she informed passing the blankets to Samantha before closing the door again.
"Here Samuel," Samantha said passing the younger Winchester one of the blankets. Sam accepted it with a distrustful look on his face.
Dean unbuttoned his shirt not entirely sure he wanted to take it off, despite cold that had already seeped into his skin from the wet material. "So do you investigate every incident of rough housing?" he asked tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Your teacher didn't seem to think that was the case," was the immediate reply, and it made Dean see red.
"Why?" he demanded turning to face her, "Because kids in 'abusive' situations lie?" he shook his head, it was a no win situation for him. Samantha opened her mouth to speak but Dean pressed on, "Where's Todd? Rugby accident had stitches; he pulled them a few days ago."
The agent sighed, "Dean your teacher has been watching you for a while, and she's had more than enough reasons to be concerned." It was a blanket response something Dean wasn't surprised to hear, he didn't actually expect her to accept his arguments, that wasn't what she was paid for.
The door opened suddenly as an older man in a white lab coat stepped into the room, with a clipboard in hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said directing his attention to the CPS agent.
"Not at all Dr. Hensen," she replied with a smile, "I'd like you to meet Dean and Samuel Winchester."
He turned his full attention on them, with a friendly smile; Dean supposed he was what a grandfather looked like though he felt no warmth towards the man. "I'm Dr. Hensen," he introduced offering his hand but Dean just looked at it before returning his eyes to the man's face. The doctor seemed completely unfazed by Dean's cold response, "You can call me Tom."
"What seems to be the problem?" it sounded as though he was simply asking in general, so Dean decided to answer.
"It 'seems' like people are confused," he said bitterly. Samantha offered the doctor a sympathetic look, which only caused Dean's frustration to rise, "I'm not being abused!" He didn't know how much more plainly he could say it.
"Dr. Hensen, standard procedure, I want a full examination," she said completely ignoring Dean.
From behind, Dean felt Sam's hand take hold of his shirt; they both knew the likely hood of their story holding up to an examination weren't promising. But Dean would be damned if he was going to let these 'adults' walk all over him.
The doctor nodded his head, but stepped towards the door, "Would you mind giving us some privacy?" he asked opening the door to let agent Rose out. The CPS agent cast one last look in Dean’s direction before nodding and leaving the room.
Dr. Hensen turned back towards them pulling a stool to him with his left foot before taking a seat on it, which brought him, closer to Dean’s eye level. “So,” he began tone light, “Are you boys alright?”
“Yes,” Dean replied firmly, “Not that you’ll believe me,” he added in a low mutter.
“Will you at least give me a chance?” Tom asked with an encouraging smile.
Dean just watched the man suspiciously not about to agree with anything.
“You must be freezing,” he said clearly not bothered by Dean’s silence as he slid his stool across the floor to the thermostat and adjusted the temperature. He came back over and took hold of the second blanket, “Why don’t you take off that wet shirt?”
He considered the suggestion for a moment, the blood on his shirt though wet was still obvious. Still he hesitated to do anything that the doctor asked him too.
“So Samuel is it?” he asked the youngest Winchester. For his part Sammy cast Dean a questioning look before mutely nodding his head.
Dr. Hensen smiled, “How old are you Samuel?”
Again Sammy looked to Dean first, but the older Winchester nodded his approval as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid it from his shoulders. “Eleven,” he said hugging the warm blanket closer around him.
“Do you and your brother rough house a lot?” he asked then, blue eyes flickering between Sam and Dean, though they lingered on the bloody gauze tapped to Dean’s shoulder.
Sammy just shrugged.
But it didn’t matter Dr. Hensen’s attention was back on Dean, “How’d this happen?” Tom asked pointing at the line of stitches.
“Why are you asking me?” Dean demanded taking a step back from the doctor, but found his back pressed against the exam table. The doctor looked somewhat taken aback by Dean’s tone, “Doesn’t your clipboard already say abuse?”
“No,” Tom said placing the clipboard on the edge of the table, “Should it?”
Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Let me put it to you this way, I don’t want to make judgments either way not without proof.”
He sounded honest, but Dean didn’t believe it. In the past adults had accepted Dean’s answers for previous injuries, but they’d always made judgments. That’s where the problems kept coming from, and he wasn’t eager to help this doctor make his decision.
The silence in the room stretched on for several minutes as the doctor’s blue eyes studied Dean intently. “Can I take a look at it?” he requested finally, shifting the stool along the tiled floor.
“Sure,” Dean deadpanned but stepped away the minute Dr. Hensen’s hands reached for him, “You already are.”
Tom sighed, resting hands on his knees, “Can you tell me how you tore your stitches?”
“Putting my backpack on?” Dean shrugged; he hadn’t even noticed doing it at the time.
“And you cut your shoulder breaking a table?” Dr. Hensen clarified glancing at the clipboard to his right. Dean merely nodded his head, “But you told your teacher it was a cat scratch?” it sounded as though he was trying to understand.
Dean felt as though he was being pulled into a trap, “I didn’t need her to worry.”
“Did you have these stitches done here?” he inquired pulling a pen from his breast pocket.
“No,” Dean drew a breath; he was going to have to be careful here, “Small clinic north of town.”
The pen scribbled across the paper, “Looks like he did a fine job, can I take a look at the one you tore?”
Dean was a little surprised that the doctor didn’t call for more information, like the name of the clinic, the doctor who helped, why they’d gone there in the first place? Instead he patted the edge of the exam table and nudged the step stool a little closer to Dean’s legs a none too subtle request that’s where he wanted Dean to be.
At the moment Dean was grateful to the fact that he hadn’t gone home and immediately taken something for the pain. They had precious few of those pills, and he’d made a habit of saving them for the longest parts of the day, besides that they had a tendency to slow his reaction time, both physically and mentally. And he needed to be on top of his game.
The doctor was more patient that Dean had expected him to be, he was still waiting for Dean to climb up onto the exam table. The expression on his face made it clear he was willing to wait as long as it took. Casting a quick glance at his brother, Dean sighed; there’d be no escaping with the doctor in the room.
With a good deal of reluctance Dean got onto the exam table, expression darkening at the smile he was given. Dr. Hensen raised a hand towards Dean’s shoulder, “On the count of three I’m going to pull the bandage off okay?”
Dean didn’t bother responding; knowing it always hurt less if the band aid was removed quickly. Despite that Dean’s shoulder jerked back away from the pain, Tom reached out his right hand to steady him. “This doesn’t look too bad,” the doctor commented with a friendly tone, “You shouldn’t even have much of a scar.”
“Can I go now?” Dean asked impatiently, hazel eyes watching the doctor’s hands.
“No, not yet,” Tom said, and he almost sounded apologetic before his attention shifted to pulling some supplies from one of the cupboards.
Dean shifted on the edge of the table fighting the urge the support his chest with one of his arms. All he really wanted to do was lay down and take the pressure off, he forced himself to straighten as Dr. Hensen turned back towards him. Everything he needed to clean and re-patch Dean’s shoulder was laid out on a small metal table.
A surprisingly loud grumble brought the doctor to a halt as he turned his attention towards Sam who was blushing with embarrassment, “You boys haven’t had dinner yet have you?” he asked offering Sammy an understanding smile.
“We were about to, when the Gestapo showed up,” Dean muttered moving towards the duffel which was further down the table.
“Now hold on there,” Tom reprimanded moving to stop Dean.
The young hunter flinched away from the touch, hoping his wince of pain wasn’t too obvious as the doctor brought the bag up beside Dean. He reached into the still opened bag, not wanting the doctor to get a look inside. The last thing he needed was to try and explain the bottle of holy water and box of salt hidden on the bottom. Pulling out a couple of granola bars for Sam, Dean carefully tossed them over before his attention returned to Dr. Hensen.
“Your father didn’t happen to be a Boy Scout did he?”
Dean shook his head, breathing shallowly, “Marine.” He didn’t like volunteering information, but there wasn’t much the doctor could do with that knowledge.
“Close enough,” he smiled as he finished applying the bandage to Dean’s shoulder. “You know, by running people might think you have something to hide…” Tom commented blue eyes looking directly into Dean’s.
“How about, we can take care of ourselves?” Dean returned not liking the slight strain to his voice.
Tom was studying him intently, “There’s a lot of us out there that don’t think children as young as you should have to take care of themselves.” He took hold of Dean’s wrist fingers pressing in tightly as the doctor looked down at his wrist watch. “Do you have any other injuries?” he asked then looking back up.
“Would you believe me if I said no?” he asked not bothering to muster up any sarcasm.
“I’d like to,” Dr. Hensen said honestly, “But I’ve been doing this for a long time Dean,” he continued eyes piercing Dean where he sat. “I know when someone’s in pain.”
Dean reacted quickly, “My shoulder really aches,” he tried honesty, wishing he had Sam’s gift for making it so real.
The Doctor nodded in what Dean thought was understanding, “Lift up your shirt,” he said motioning with his left hand.
“Why?” he asked in an attempt to prolong the inevitable.
“Because I think you’re hiding something Dean,” Tom replied easily, tone non-threatening.
He sat a little straighter, only after realizing that might have just confirmed the doctor’s suspicions. “I’m fine, you said you wanted to believe me,” Dean threw out in a last ditch effort if they found cracked or broken ribs it would only make everything worse. “You patched up my arm, we’re both good, we just want to go home,” Dean hoped his voice didn’t sound too frantic, he was really grasping at straws here.
“Dean,” the doctor began when someone knocked on the door.
Agent Rose poked her head in, “Dr. Hensen can we speak to you outside please?”
Dean watched the door close behind them and quickly got off the exam table, gasping for breath then his feet hit the ground. Sammy was out of his chair in an instant, “What’s going on Dean?” he asked worriedly.
“I don’t know,” he said reaching into the duffel for his own warm shit and quickly pulled it on over his shoulder. It didn’t really matter what they were talking about outside, this could be the only chance they had to slip away. “C’mon,” Dean took Sam’s hand and went for the second door, testing the handle, not surprised to see that it was locked.
Dropping the duffel off his shoulder Dean knelt beside it and quickly fished out the lock picking tools his dad had got him as a birthday present the other year. He was just beginning to maneuver the pins when he heard the other door open again, “Alright boys,” a new voice said, and Dean quickly slipped the tools out of sight.
Dean looked suspiciously at the newcomer, pushing Sam behind him. The man was older, hair almost completely grey, and he proudly wore his badge on the front of his dark blue suit. He offered Dean and Sam a small smile, “I’m Commissioner Riven, you’re going to come with me now.”
-Riven- Dean repeated the name in his head several times, it sounded very familiar. “You’re Dad’s waiting,” he coaxed quietly, and it suddenly hit Dean, a wave of relief washing over him. The family they’d helped over the weekend had been the Riven’s; squeezing Sammy’s hand reassuringly Dean stepped towards the man.
He led them out of the exam room, Dean glanced briefly at the doctor, and the CPS agent, neither looked thrilled with what was happening. But to Dean’s relief they didn’t move forward to stop them. They took a direct path out of the hospital to the visitor’s parking lot; Sammy released his hand the minute they were out the door, running a head to where their dad waited leaning against the Impala.
“Thanks Jake,” John said taking the Commissioner’s hand, his left arm wrapped tightly around Sam’s shoulders.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Jake replied with a shake of his head, “If it weren’t for you, I’d have lost my granddaughter for good.”
“How’re you doing Ace?”
Dean felt a blush creep into his cheeks, “I’m alright.”
John scratched at his cheek, “So, what about all this?”
“It’ll take a bit too smooth things out,” the Commissioner commented glancing back over his shoulder at the hospital. “I’ll do what I can to help you slip back under the radar.”
“All the same I doubt we’ll be around much longer,” John reached out his free hand and dropped it on Dean’s head.
“Well thanks again.”
John nodded, accepting the man’s hand one last time before turning back to the Impala, “Let’s go boys.” Dean sighed in relief climbing into the front seat of their car and relaxed back as best he could.
“That was too close,” he breathed as his dad started the engine.
“You did fine Ace,” John assured, resting his hand on the side of Dean’s neck, as they drove away from the hospital.
Thanks for Reading! I hope you enjoyed this fic.