The Homewrecker Chapter 7

[jcrgirl]

Title: The Homewrecker Chapter 7
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Wincest, AU, BabyFic (Non-MPreg)
Word Count: ~ 5800
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Beta: emeraldheiress
Summary: What happens when the monsters are not the supernatural kind? Dean deals with the aftermath of what's happened to his family an old friend shows up.

Author Notes: Joey Verse, set on Joey's 1 year birthday. Chronologically follows 'He Knows When You've Been Naughty'. Joey Verse Banner by emeraldheiress because she's too good to me!



A/N2: I still have a bow-tie conclusion for this story, but I need an opinion. I have an idea for a sequel that would join Dean, Sam and Joey with Casey and her little team of angelic warriors (think Scooby Doo meets the Globetrotters without the slapstick). I know that some people really liked Casey but others worried she detracted too much from the boys and thier boy. Does this concept sound interesting at all? Or has this verse outrun its appeal? If you don't mind letting me know your thoughts, I'd appreciate it.

Dean paced back and forth in the surgical waiting room, cradling a sleeping Joey to his chest. It had been hours since he stood in the dank locker room pressing a towel to the bleeding wound on Hannah’s chest, praying for the Paramedics to hurry up while trying to shush Joey’s crying. Hours of talking to the police about the fires and answering questions about how the culprit ended up dead on the floor in the local gym. Hours of telling everyone he was fine and refusing offers to take Joey for ‘a few minutes’. Hours of worrying about Sam and Hannah still in surgery and pleading with every staff member they saw for news. Hours of gut wrenching, vomit inducing, mind numbing fear that Brandon had actually taken…

“Dean?” Bobby approached, a look on his face Dean was certain he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“Bobby, can we not and say we did?” He knew that Bobby was sorry, knew he needed to say it, but Dean wasn’t in a place to hear it. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I should never have left him alone.” The older man lifted his cap and ran a hand over his thinning red hair, blue eyes full of sorrow.

“Please, not now.” Dean kept his voice low so not to wake his son, but the anguish bled through.

“Remington family?”

Dean’s head snapped around at the sound of the petite older woman manning the information desk calling his name. She was setting the receiver to a corded phone back in its cradle, eyes volleying over the people seated in the room to see who would answer.

“Here,” Dean called, striding across the space to her.

“The doctor would like to see you in Consultation Room 1.” Pointing with arthritic hands, she continued, “Take a left out of here and it’s the first door on the right.”

Dean went back to Bobby and transferred the small boy in his arms. “Take him. The doctor wants to talk to me.” He could see the worry in the old hunter’s eyes and pasted a reassuring smile on his face. “I’m sure he just wants to tell me how it went.” Bobby nodded and hugged Joey tightly.

Dean pushed open the door conveniently labeled ‘Consultation Room 1’ to find a man dressed in pale blue surgical scrubs sitting on a small leather loveseat. The doctor stood up and pulled the navy blue surgical cap, dotted with leprechauns in a fighting stance, from his head to reveal thick silver gray hair.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Andrews.” The man stepped around a low coffee table and extended his hand. “You are Mr. Remington’s…?”

“Oh, um, Dean. Dean Browning, his partner.” Dean shook the doctor’s outstretched hand, anxious to get the pleasantries out of the way. “How’s Sam?”

“Partner,” The doctor frowned, eyeing the silver ring on Dean’s right hand. “Are you and Mr. Remington married?”

“Not that I see how it’s any of your business,” Dean bristled, “but, no. Not legal.” Oh God was it not legal.

“Does Mr. Remington have any relatives out in the waiting room?” The doctor twisted his surgical cap between his hands and Dean definitely didn’t like where this was headed.

“Just our one year old son. Why?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Browning, but I can’t give you any information on Mr. Remington’s condition. The hospital has strict rules about the distribution of patient information. I can only talk to a family member and since you aren’t married…” The doctor trailed off, sympathy and regret evident in his eyes. “All I can tell you is that Mr. Remington is out of surgery.”

Dean’s throat wanted to close up. He wanted to scream at this man that he was Sam’s brother, but he couldn’t. They’d taken on these aliases at first so they could be together without fear of someone finding out their true relation and then later to keep Joey safe. He couldn’t risk their life together or Joey’s in general over this. “Will I be able to see him?”

“Not while he’s in ICU. When he’s transferred to a General ward, then non-family members will be allowed to visit.”

“How long will he be in ICU?” Dean was almost scared to ask. Sam was serious enough that he needed ICU?

“At least until tomorrow, maybe longer.” The doctor patted him on the shoulder as he moved to exit. “I really am sorry, Mr. Browning.”

Dean stumbled his way back to the waiting room, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. He’d almost said ‘fuck it’ and told the doctor he was Sam’s brother, consequences be damned, but knew that wasn’t what Sam would want. For the first time since they’d become Sam Remington and Dean Browning, Dean regretted it.

“Dean?” Bobby stood, transferring the sleeping infant to Jenni. “What happened, son? Is Sam…Is Sam?” He placed a steadying hand on Dean’s shoulder and peered deeply into green eyes.

“He’s - He’s in recovery,” Dean muttered numbly, stepping back and allowing the man’s hand to slip off his shoulder. “I need…,” he scrubbed a hand harshly down his face, “I need coffee.” He turned and headed down the hallway to the vending machines near the elevators.

“Will he be okay?” Bobby called after the retreating man. Shaking his head, he sat down and took Joey back from Jenni.

“Should you go after him,” Jenni asked gently, worried eyes following the young man’s progress down the hallway.

“I’m not the one he needs right now,” Bobby answered softly, pressing a tender kiss to his grandson’s forehead.

Dean pushed the button for black coffee and stared as the cardboard cup fell into the dispensing area with a soft thunk. Leaning against the machine with his right hand, he tilted his head to the right as unfocused eyes watched the brown liquid fill the white cup.

He started at the feel of words breathed across his ear. “You’re not really going to drink that are you? I think the Impala’s old motor oil would taste better.”

Wide eyed, he spun around and felt the air leave his lungs when his gaze lowered to soft chocolate brown orbs.

“Casey.”

His arms automatically wrapped around strong shoulders, his body sinking into the comfort her presence offered. He clenched his teeth around the emotion he’d kept in check and was now threatening to leak through in the safety of her arms.

She kissed his temple and stepped back. “I brought you some of the good stuff.” She held out a black insulated cup, steam wafting up through the mouth opening. “Figured you’d need it.”

Glancing back at the sludge the machine had just provided, Dean gratefully took the cup from Casey. Sniffing the aroma of the ‘Casey Blend’ as he and Sam dubbed it, he took a sip, swallowing the rich liquid and the well of emotion.

Reaching around him, Casey pulled the cup from the machine and gave it to the man standing behind them waiting for his turn for coffee. She smiled warmly at the man when he thanked her, guiding Dean away from his curious glance.

Stopping at the water fountain, well out of sight of the Waiting Room, Casey looked at Dean. “Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Sam’s in recovery.”

“Dean.”

“Dean, nothing. The fucking doctor won’t tell me anything because I’m not family. Some hospital bullshit. If I tell them that we are family, I ruin everything we’ve built here. I don’t even know if he’s going to be okay, just that he’s out of surgery.” A tear leaked from the corner of Dean’s eye and scrubbed at it furiously.

Tugging on Dean’s hand, Casey pulled him to the Nurse’s Station. “Casey, don’t. There’s nothing you can do.”

Ignoring him, Casey smiled brightly and turned her attention to the chubby, blonde nurse behind the counter. “Hi…Candy,” Casey began, looking at the name tag, “can you please call up to Mr. Schwartz’s office and let him know that Cassandra Ann Bonney is down here and would like to speak with him?” Dean’s brows scrunched together. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Casey’s last name, let alone her full name.

“Mr. Schwartz?” Confusion was clearly written across every feature of Candy’s face. “The Hospital Administrator?”

“Yes,” Casey replied, smile still firmly in place. “Can you please call him? I believe his extension is 2292.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to call the Hospital Administrator for anyone. I really like being employed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Candy moved to turn back to the large dry erase board that spanned the back of the Nurse’s Station.

“Oh, okay.” Casey’s smiled hardened. “Can I speak with your Charge Nurse then?”

Dean stood in muted silence, sipping his coffee and curiously watching the back and forth. Candy sputtered at Casey’s request, but made a phone call, movements quick and angry. A few minutes later a dark haired woman came around the corner. After some quiet conferring off to the side, in which Candy made vehement gestures in their direction, the dark haired woman approached them.

“I’m Melinda, the Charge Nurse. Candy says you’d like to speak with Mr. Schwartz. I’m sure if you call and make an appointment with his assistant, Mr. Schwartz will be happy to speak with you then.”

“Melinda,” Casey’s smile held, but Dean could sense her patience waning. “My name is Cassandra Ann Bonney. I think Mr. Schwartz would be happy to speak with me now.”

Melinda visibly paled at Casey’s name. “Bonney,” the woman repeated in a whisper, eyes closing briefly like she was praying Casey was a dream. “Like in the Bonney Foundation.”

Casey flashed her best, fakest 1000 watt smile. “Oh, you’ve heard of me. Great! Now about Mr. Schwartz...”

Five minutes later, a short, broad man exited the elevator and approached them with a flustered look. “Ms. Bonney, so good to see you again.”

Dean watched the exchange, but his mind was concentrating on Candy and Melinda whispering behind the Nurse’s Station counter.

“Okay, spill. Who the hell is Cassandra Ann Bonney?” Candy’s voice took on a haughty tone when she said Casey’s name.

“Head of the Board of Trustees for the Bonney Foundation.” Melinda stated simply. At Candy’s unimpressed eyebrow, she clarified, “The Bonney Foundation. Gave the hospital 30 million dollars for the renovation of the pediatric ward.” She waved her hand in a ‘come on’ expression to emphasize her prompting tone. “The new Joseph H. Bonney Pediatric Center that starts construction next month. It’s been all over the news.”

Dean missed Candy’s response when Casey placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Mr. Schwartz, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Dean Browning. He and his partner, Sam Remington, sit on the Board of Trustees as well. Dean, this is the Hospital Administrator, Mr. Schwartz.”

Dean shook Mr. Schwartz’s hand, shooting a furtive, curious look at Casey. Since when did he sit on a Board of Trustees? Hell, Dean wasn’t sure if he knew what a Board of Trustees was?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Browning. Ms. Bonney tells me you are having a difficult time getting information about your partner’s condition. If you’d please tell me his doctor’s name, I’ll make sure you get the information you need. Then we’ll get you back there to see him.” Mr. Schwartz shifted uncomfortably, nervous eyes shifting between Dean and Casey.

“Um, Dr. Andrews, I think,” Dean stuttered, Mr. Schwartz leaving before he could say more. “What the hell was that?” He turned to Casey.

“You and Sam didn’t read that paperwork I gave you, did you? I had you placed on the Board of Trustees for the Bonney Foundation for this exact reason. Hefty donations were made to the hospital in Sioux Falls and here at Memorial so that you’d have some kind of leverage if something like this happened. Large sums of money tend to win you friends, influence people and override hospital policies better than just about anything else. Dropping the foundation’s name will get you pretty far at just about any medical facility really. We’re well known and notoriously philanthropic. It’s not right and it’s not fair, but you’ve seen what the alternative is.”

“Joseph Bonney was your father,” Dean nodded his head in understanding, having seen the name of the new pediatric ward in the newspaper but not realizing the connection. He remembered Casey saying that Joey was named after her father and Sam.

“Yeah, he was a good man,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Listen, this Dr. Andrews should be out in a minute to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll do it with his lips glued to your ass. I need to go check on Hannah. I brought Trotter to oversee her care, but I need to make sure the hospital doesn’t give him any issues.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Shame and guilt warred in Dean. He’d been so caught up in worrying about Sam that Hannah had been pushed to the background.

“Define okay. Physically? More than likely. I haven’t heard the extent of her injuries, but short of a head or heart shot it’s pretty hard to kill us, and even then you have to aim carefully,” she smiled dryly, fingertips digging into the tense muscles at the back of her neck. “Psychologically can be a different story though. We’re bred and trained to protect, it’s practically written on our DNA. If her injuries are severe enough to keep her from active duty… It can be a little jarring. Some people don’t handle the assimilation to a supportive role easily.”

“I’m sorry, Casey. I should have realized about Brandon then you wouldn’t have needed to send Hannah to protect us.” Dean leaned back against the wall and titled he head up to face the ceiling. So much pain and destruction because he had missed a threat to his family.

“Stop it, Dean,” Casey hissed. “This isn’t on you. Brandon was human. Human, Dean. Even I don’t read people that well. They’re too complex, overlapping desires and twisted logic.” Dean kept his eyes to the acoustic tiles above him, making patterns from the holes. He heard Casey’s words, allowed them to cascade over him, but refused to let them be absorbed into this mind and heart where they’d give him relief from his guilt. His head dropped down when strong hands gripped his arms and shook him hard. “Enough self-flagellation. Not everything bad that happens in this world is your fault. As for Hannah, she did her job. And for the record, we’re not mindless little automatons. I asked Hannah to come check on things, nothing more. She made the decision to help you, protect Joey on her own.”

She blew out a frustrated breath, fingers unwrapping from Dean’s biceps, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘pig headed bastard’. “I really need to go see about Hannah. All I need is for the resident surgeon to go in and check on his near fatal shooting patient to find she’s healing at a ‘miraculous’ rate.” Slender fingers punctuated the word with air quotes. “I can see the fucking article in the AMA Journal now. Are you going to be okay?”

“I can see how that would draw some unwanted attention. Go on. I’ll be fine now. Thanks.” Dean leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. He watched her disappear around the corner just as Dr. Andrews appeared from the lounge talking animatedly with Mr. Schwartz. The two men paused outside the door for a few minutes before Mr. Schwartz headed for the elevator and Dr. Andrews moved to Dean.

“Mr. Browning. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize yours and Mr. Remington’s unique, um, situation.”

Dean cringed as guilt pricked at his conscious for using money to get around the system, but he quickly pushed it aside as Mr. Schwartz’s promises danced through his mind. Apparently guilt was going to be his default emotion for now.

“As you know, Mr. Remington…”

“Sam.” Dean interrupted, “His name is Sam.”

The doctor nodded, “Sam sustained a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The bullet punctured a small portion of his spleen and grazed his left kidney. Both the kidney and spleen are very vascular so there was a significant amount of blood loss. He has partial thickness burns to the shin and upper arm on the left side. He also suffered some smoke inhalation, but the impact seems minimal and will need minor intervention. That being said, all in all, he was very fortunate. We were able to repair the damage to the kidney and spleen and avoided removal. Barring any complications, both organs should function with little or no deficiency. The burns to the leg and arm should heal without any scarring. Right now, we’re transfusing the last of the blood and starting him on a preventative antibiotic therapy to lessen his chances of infection. Honestly, his prognosis is excellent.”

Coldness had suffused every part of Dean’s body as the doctor listed Sam’s injuries. Why Sam? Did Fate have such a hard on for Sam that the bitch was hell bent on hurting him at every turn? The word excellent finally penetrated the frost numbing Dean and he focused his attention back to the surgeon in front of him.

“He-he’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Browning. Sam is going to be fine.” The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and smiled. “He’s being moved from Recovery to a room in Surgical ICU. Once he’s settled I’ll have someone come get you. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

Dean nodded and watched the man walk away. Staring blankly down the empty hallway, a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Sam is going to be fine. A laugh bubbled up from his chest becoming increasing manic until Dean was doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath with tears in his eyes. His whole body shook with spent adrenaline and he fell back heavily against the wall. Sam was going to be okay.

Dean sat next to Sam’s bed, fighting off the strong sense of déjà vu that the sight before him caused. Sam was laying still and quiet in the bed, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown. A tube disappeared down his throat secured in place by tape and wires led from the monitor at the head of the bed to Sam’s blanketed body. Three bags of clear fluid hung from a metal pole, their tubes converging into one main line that ended at the IV catheter snugged into the crook of Sam’s elbow. The room was filled with a chorus of noise, the soft whoosh pop of the ventilator combined with the whirr click of the IV pump.

Sam, please wake up.

He twisted the silver band on Sam’s finger, blood still encrusted in the intricate design engraved around the edge. Love, honor, courage, bravery, brotherhood. He’d need to get it cleaned.

Dean leaned his forehead over where his hand was clasped around Sam’s, the stress of everything sapping his strength. He needed to get some rest. Bobby had taken Joey to the Doubletree down the road and Dean knew they’d be back early in the morning to hear if Sam would be moved from ICU. He just hoped he had good news for them. Turning his face to the side, he pressed his cheek to the back of Sam’s hand and allowed the warmth to lull him to sleep.

“DeeDee.”

Joey’s voice floated to him through a sea of exhaustion laden fogginess. He shifted with a grunt and nestled his head deeper into the softness beneath it, grimacing at the twinge of pain from the crick in his neck.

“DeeDee.”

Dean groaned, not ready to face the morning yet. “Sam? Sam. Joey’s awake.” He let himself drift back into a light doze.

“DeeDee.”

Dean frowned. Why hadn’t Sam gotten Joey? “Saaaam. Come on, dude. I’m tired,” he mumbled. “You get up with him today and I’ll get the next three times.” When Sam didn’t move or grumble or call him a liar, Dean’s frown deepened. “Sam? Come on. Sam, please,” he whined, burying his face further into the sheets. “Wake up.”

Sam please wake up.

Dean’s head jumped up from its place on the side of Sam’s hospital bed. Bobby was standing in the doorway, Joey nestled in his arms. They’d changed clothes, Joey in an outfit that Dean didn’t recognize and it took a few minutes for him to realize it had to be new. Everything they had, had gone up in smoke and flame, taken by the weapon of one man’s obsession. Sam’s finger twitched and his leg shifted restlessly under the mound of white blankets covering him.

Not everything had been taken, he reminded himself.

He stood and moved toward them, smiling faintly at Bobby as he took his son from the older man. The lines around Bobby’s eyes were deep with worry and Dean took a deep breath. He’d had time the night before to think about what he wanted to say.

“I know you and I know Sam. You resisted and he insisted. Puppy dog eyes trump old man stubbornness. Just next time, call me or, better yet, keep your phone on you.” Smirking, Dean bumped the older man’s elbow. “Or you know, the nightstand.”

Bobby huffed a nervous laugh and shook his head sheepishly. Feeling some of the pressure lift from his chest, Dean moved into Sam’s room. Children weren’t supposed to be in the ICU rooms, but Dean figured if he was using his borrowed influence he might as well stretch it as far as it would go. He carried his little boy over to the bed and his heart broke at the teary look in small hazel eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Ssshh, Joey. Daddy’s fine, he just sleeping.”

Bobby moved out of the doorway to allow Dr. Andrews to enter. He’d traded his light blue scrubs for Kelly green ones, a white lab coat with his name stitched on the left breast making him look like the doctors on prime time tv.

“Good morning, Mr. Browning,” Dr. Andrews greeted, grimacing at Joey’s presence but not commenting. After Dean’s nod, he flipped open Sam’s chart and continued, “We’re going to run some tests on Mr., uh, Sam this morning and if everything looks good, he’ll be transferred to the General ward. Has he made any signs that he might be waking?”

“He moved a little. His finger and his leg.” He smoothed a calming hand down Joey’s back, shushing him quietly, when he called for Daddy again.

“That’s good news. We should be able to remove his breathing tube this morning then. Why don’t you go get some breakfast and hopefully when you get back, we’ll know more.” Dr. Andrews clicked his pen shut and closed the cover on Sam’s chart. He smiled at Dean again and left.

Dean faced the distressed chubby face of his son. “What do you think Joey? You hungry? Want some breakfast?”

“Daddy.” Joey reached out a hand toward Sam’s still form. Dean noticed Sam’s hand jerk before settling back against his thigh.

Yeah, everything will be better after breakfast.

“We’ll come right back to see Daddy after we feed the rumblies in our tumblies.” He poked Joey lightly in the stomach and turned to leave. Dean didn’t miss that Joey’s eyes never left Sam until he was well out of sight.

They walked back toward Sam’s room in the silence that had hung over them during their unenthusiastic breakfast. Dean was a little worried at how his normally ravenous son had eaten almost mechanically, going through the motions of chewing and swallowing with a distant look on his face. Dean really couldn’t blame him, he’d done the same thing.

Stopping outside Sam’s door, Dean turned to give Joey to Bobby when he noticed the neatly made bed and empty room. A nurse came up to them with a large smile on her face.

“Sam tests were excellent his morning. He woke up briefly so they took out the tube and he’s breathing beautifully on his own. They moved him up to a fabulous room on the fourth floor about 15 minutes ago. He’s in room 414.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiled at the overly cheerful, adjective using nurse and the trio made their way to the elevators, their steps much lighter than those of a few minutes ago.

Jenni arrived sometime before lunch and stayed for a little while before leaving with Bobby to get everyone something that didn’t come from the downstairs cafeteria. Sam had yet to wake up since his arrival on the fourth floor, but Dean was informed they’d loaded him with pain killers to make the transport from ICU easier and Sam’d probably sleep for a while.

Joey slept in Dean’s arms, lack of proper entertainment and too much stress over too long a period, taking their toll. Dean bounced his crossed legs, gently jouncing Joey with the motion as he watched the two loves of his life sleep while silently thanking the universe for them both. A soft knock on the door pulled him from his quiet gratitude to find Dennis in the open doorway.

“Hey,” Dean murmured.

“Hey,” Dennis returned, “You got a minute?” He jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. Even though he was speaking to Dean, his eyes never wavered from Sam.

“Yeah.” Dean stood, patting Joey’s bottom when he showed signs of waking. Hesitating for a minute, Dean moved to the side of the bed and maneuvered Sam’s uninjured arm away from his body to make a hollow for Joey to lie in. Recognizing familiar bodies even in sleep, Joey snuggled contentedly into Sam’s warmth while Sam’s arm curled possessively around Joey’s form. Grabbing the extra pillows off the side table, Dean stuffed them against the side rail so Joey wouldn’t slip through. Bending over he kissed first Sam then Joey before heading out to Dennis in the hallway.

“Hey, what’s up? You could have come in.”

“Nah, I didn’t want to wake them and I’ve only got a few minutes. I just wanted to come by and let you know that Angus is at Aunt Jenni’s. The vet said his ribs should heal okay, but you’ll need to bring him back next Monday for a recheck. Aunt Jenni or I will take him if you can’t.” Dennis kept glancing over Dean’s shoulder at Sam, fingers shoved deep into his pockets.

“I really appreciate you taking care of him,” Dean began, but broke off when a too warm hand touched his back and a sense of peace stole over him. Soft lips were pressed to his cheek and he smiled, twisting to see Casey over his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dennis stiffen.

“Is it okay if I go in and see him?” Her hand dropped from his back to encircle his hand.

“Yeah, of course. Hannah okay?”

“She’s fine. I think they’ll release her tomorrow. Bullet missed her heart by that much.” She lifted her free hand to show her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “She’ll be pulled from active duty, but she’s got…options. Mike’s with her now. He seems like a good guy.” Casey’s brows scrunched together as she regarded Dennis listening to their conversation. Dennis’ face flushed and his eyes fell to the ground as he shifted his weight from foot to foot under Casey’s scrutiny. “How’s Sam,” she asked distractedly.

“He’s good actually. Doc says no major damage and he’ll heal almost good as new.” Seeing the looks passing between Dennis and Casey, he realized they’d never met. “Oh, uh Casey, this is Dennis, a friend of ours from town. Dennis, this is Casey, an old friend and Joey’s mother.”

Casey blinked out of her stare and extended a hand to Dennis, who took it hesitantly. Dean could see Dennis trying to take back his hand as Casey held on a moment too long. Casey smiled her bright, fake smile and released Dennis’ hand.

Squeezing the hand still threaded with Dean’s, she graced him with a genuine smile. “I’m going to go in. Nice to meet you, Dennis.”

Dean watched her go in the room. Hearing a mumbled ‘likewise’ from behind him, reminded him of the temporarily forgotten man. “Anyway, thanks again for looking after Angus.” Dean returned to their conversation before the interruption. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do,” Dennis replied to the back of Dean’s head as the man looked back into the room again.

Casey ran the back of her knuckles down Sam’s cheek, a watery smile on her face, and then pressed a chaste kiss to his slack mouth, a silent ‘I love you’ mouthed into soft pink lips. Tears spilled over as he titled her head down to gaze in awe and love at her son. She ran a gentle hand over his downy chestnut hair then leaned over the metal rail to place a tender kiss to Joey’s forehead. The tip of her nose traced a path across the warm skin, her necklace falling free of her shirt to land softly over Joey’s heart. Dean watched her form the words ‘I love you’ again before she pulled back. Sam’s eyes rolled under his eyelids and Casey no sooner breathed Dean’s name then he was there.

“He’s waking,” she said softly, moving out of the way so Dean could stand closer, “and I’m leaving.”

“What?” Dean spun to her, eyes searching hers for a reason.

“I have to get back to Oregon. Finish what I left. Everyone is okay here and they need me there.”
“What about us? We need you. Sam and Joey need you,” he amended quickly.

“No, they don’t. They have each other and you. I’ve only been allowed to stay this long because of Hannah.” She rose onto the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Dean cupped her face between his hands and kissed her, pouring everything he’d never said into the act.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered then declared for the third time, “I love you. Be safe.”

Casey exited to find Dennis standing in the hallway witnessing the exchange in the room. She stopped and studied him for a minute.

Dennis stared at her, his eyes drawn to her like magnets. A play of the light, gave her dark eyes a chameleon effect and, between one blink and the next, Dennis could have sworn they’d lightened to warm amber. Shaking his head, he looked again to see dark chocolate watching him.

“What did you do?”

Taking a step back, unnerved by the accusation and the venom behind the words, Dennis stammered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. You did something.” Her left eyes squinted fractionally and she tilted her head. “To Sam. Something…he didn’t… want. What did you do? Tell me.”

The last two words were like a command that his brain could not ignore. Dennis felt the urge to tell her - how he forced himself on Sam, threatened him - and he bit his tongue to keep the admissions in. “N-nothing,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Tell. Me.”

The words were less command and more caress this time. Whispered, they brushed his mind like a seduction and the need to reveal everything was overwhelming. The taste of copper flooded his mouth as sharp teeth broke the skin of his tongue in the attempt to keep it still. “I kissed him, held him down and tried to force myself on him. I hurt him and threatened he’d be sorry when he rejected me.” The confession rushed out in a gush of breath and tears.

Casey moved closer to him and even though his mind screamed for him to get more space between them, his feet remained firmly rooted in his spot. He watched her warily as she leaned in and wondered if this was what a deer felt like when it stood frozen as death approached behind twin glowing orbs.

“I’m sure Sam handled everything like the soft spoken, kind person I know he is, but let me assure you…I’m not Sam.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and Dennis gasped at the feel of the bones rubbing together in her grip. “If you ever come near any of them again with anything other than friendship in your heart, I will know.” Her hand tightened and Dennis whimpered softly. “Then I will come back on my pale horse to find you and, I promise, you will be the one who’s sorry.”

Her fingers uncurled and she moved away quickly. Dennis gulped audibly as a feral smile crossed her beautiful face.

“You understand, right?” When he nodded, she turned and headed down the hallway.

Dennis stood in the noisy hallway of the fourth floor of Memorial Hospital and trembled, realizing for the first time in his life that he was terrified.

Sam woke slowly - a feeling of lips pressed to his own and the smell of flowers filled his nose, both familiar but in the way childhood memories tickle the mind. He hurt and his mind was supplying snippets of images that matched each point of pain. His side - a gunshot, his lungs - smoke, his leg and arm - the fire. The fire! Missing pieces fell disjointedly into place and Sam opened his eyes on a gasp.

Worried green eyes hovered over him, once his vision cleared, and a calmingly gruff voice told him to ‘relax’ and ‘take it easy’. Strong hands restrained his chest to keep him against the mattress as he fought to get free. Sam tried to move his right arm, pry the hands from his chest, but found it pinned beneath a weight. Gaze darting down, he found a sleeping child at his side. His muddled, drug soaked mind worked in overtime and finally he found some answers.

“Dean?” He croaked and God was that his voice.

“Yeah, Sammy. Calm down, everything’s fine.” Dean combed his fingers through Sam’s hair, giving and receiving comfort with the gesture.

Sam blinked, his memory fleshing out the empty spaces in the story of what happened. “Brandon?” he asked, arm hugging Joey closer.

“Dead.”

“Did…you?”

“No. It’s a long story, but trust me he’s gone. He can’t hurt us anymore.”

Sam could see a flurry of emotions on Dean’s face. “Oh, okay. So, we’re safe?”

“Yeah, Sammy. We’re safe,” Dean assured, leaning down to kiss the man he’d worried he’d lost.

Chapter 8