July 13th - August 2nd, 2012

Nate dropped me off with the ambulance, then peeled away to track down Bobby. I ran inside with the EMTs, and once we were through the doors, they wheeled Sam and Dean toward a cluster of nurses and doctors.

"How long's he been out?" a nurse asked, nodding toward Sam.

"About fifteen minutes before you guys got there," I replied, watching as they wheeled Sam in a different direction than Dean. "Where are you taking him?"

"He needs an MRI. You can stay with him, okay?" the nurse gestured toward Dean.

Another nurse, steering Dean away, shot me a curious look. "What is your relation to them?"

Dean winced in pain. "She's our sister."

I hurried with them to another room. Dean was putting up a fight, attempting to break free. He almost seemed delirious.

"Hold him down!" someone shouted.

"Hey!" Dean protested, struggling.

"Dean, you have to calm down," I pleaded through teary eyes.

They tore open his jeans to examine his leg, which was contorted in strange ways. The doctor exchanged a nod with one of the nurses.

A younger male nurse approached me, positioning himself between me and the chaos. "We need you to wait out in the waiting room."

"What?!" I objected. "No! I'm not leaving my brother."

He nodded, empathizing. "I understand, but it'll be better for both of you if you wait outside. I promise I'll find you when we move him to another room." He put his hand on my shoulder, sincerity in his eyes. "Okay?"

I nodded, my chin trembling. "Okay."

He placed a hand on my back and guided me toward the exit. "I'll walk you out."

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Not long after, the nurse walked into the waiting room and motioned for me to follow. He led me to Dean's room, flashing me a friendly smile before shutting the door behind me. Dean was unconscious, a cast enveloping his right leg, extending above his knee. An IV drip snaked its way from a bag to his hand.

Approaching the IV, my eyes caught the label— Morphine. Not exactly a good sign, considering we needed to ditch this place fast. I carefully peeled off the tape securing the IV in Dean's hand, removing the needle delicately. Then, I repositioned the tape, concealing any evidence that he was disconnected from the IV.

Stepping out of the room, I shut the door behind me and stopped the first person in scrubs. "Hey, have you seen or heard anything about my brother? Super tall, shoulder-length brown hair, came in unconscious."

She nodded. "Yes, I actually just left him."

"Can I see him?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not right now. I'm sorry. He's still unconscious and needs a few more tests done."

I nodded. "Okay, thank you." I turned, stepping back into Dean's room, and called Nate. After a few rings, he answered. "I need your help. I've gotta get Sam and Dean outta here. Sam is unconscious somewhere in the hospital, and when Dean wakes up, I still have his broken leg to worry about."

"Okay, no problem," he said. "Me and Bobby are already on our way."

"You found him?" I asked, relieved.

"Yup." Nate chuckled. "He saw the flames and kept driving. I didn't realize he had called me a few times with all the chaos."

I exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank god."

"We will be there soon. Don't worry," he assured me before hanging up.

Pacing around, I waited for the drugs to wear off enough for Dean to wake up. When he finally groaned after about twenty minutes, I rushed to him. "Dean, I need you to wake up." I shook him again, but he didn't move. "We need to get out of here." Still no response, so I sighed and continued pacing.

Finally, about half an hour later, Dean groaned groggily. "Oh, no, no, no."

I ran to him and removed the tape and needle. "We have to hurry, okay? I know you're drugged out, but we have to go."

Dean nodded lazily and sat up, throwing his legs over the other side of the bed. "Oh, no, no. Wait." I tried to run to stop him, but I was too late, and he hit the floor. Peering around, he looked up at me in confusion. "Your leg's broken, remember?"

He touched his cast. "Yeah, I can see that." He looked at it with child-like amusement.

I reached my hands out to him. "I need your help, okay? I can't lift your dead weight." I pulled once he grabbed my hands, realizing pretty quickly that he was doing absolutely nothing to help. "Dean, I need you to help." He huffed and started pulling me before I was ready. "Okay, hold on, stop pulling," I said, trying to stand my ground.

"You said you needed help," he said, continuing to pull. "I'm helping."

"You're not helping. Just stop pulling for a second," I said, and he stopped. "You have to bend your good knee. How am I supposed to get you on your feet with both of your legs straight out?"

He shook his head, trying to shake off the drugs. "Oh, yeah." He bent his knee, placing his foot flat on the floor.

"Alright, you ready?" I asked. He nodded, but as I started pulling, he did nothing to help again. "Dean, please, I need you to help me."

Dean looked at me, a mix of distress and confusion on his face. "You want me to help. You don't want me to help. Tell me what you want, woman!"

I raised an eyebrow at him, struggling to not laugh at this never-before-seen, pathetic display of my brother, and I couldn't stop myself.

He looked sad and confused. "Why are you laughing? Am I gonna be stuck down here forever?"

"What? No." I squatted in front of him, suppressing my laughs. "Don't get upset." I put my hand on his cheek. "Listen, I'm trying to help you, but you have to push off the floor with this leg." I patted his left knee. "I need your help, okay?" He nodded sheepishly, and I stood up, grabbing his hands."Okay, ready? Push," I urged, but just as we gained some traction, the door swung open, and we both jumped and lost our progress.

"Bobby, you're alive," Dean said, staring at him in amazement.

"'Course I am." Bobby shrugged and closed the door.

"Oh, thank god, you're here," I said.

Bobby gestured at Dean. "Why's he on the floor?"

"They gave me Morphine," Dean slurred. "A lot." He nodded at me. "Maddi left me down here."

"What?" I snapped. "Are you kidding?"

Bobby chuckled. "Oh yeah? Looks to me like she is tryin' to help ya." He leaned over, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him to his feet so he could sit on the bed.

"Hey, look, a monster broke my leg," Dean said, pointing to his leg. "Oh. Wait... the house. We thought you were dead."

Bobby shook his head. "Well, I ain't. Not yet. But we got to run. This place ain't safe. Where's Sam?"

"They said they were doing tests on him. Last I heard was an MRI," I said.

Bobby nodded. "Meet me at the ambulance dock, stat. Nate's waiting outside for us. I'll find Sam." He nodded at me and then walked out.

"Maddi?" Dean said, upset. "I'm a gimp."

I nodded. "I know, but that's okay because..." I walked over to the crutches that had been left for Dean. "You've got these." I leaned them against his bed and grabbed his clothes off the side table. "Here." I handed them to him. "Get dressed so we can get out of here."

It took a while for Dean to get dressed. There was a lot of struggling and swearing, but we eventually got him ready. He limped around on his crutches, swaying every so often.

By the time we made it out to the ambulance, two doctors were charging toward it. Dean and I quickly got in, next to Nate, who was in the driver's seat, and he took off immediately.

"Where's Sam and Bobby?" I asked frantically.

"They're fine. They're in the back," Nate said and squealed out of the hospital parking lot.

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Stuck with no options, Bobby got us set up in one of Rufus's cabins in Whitefish, Montana. While Bobby and Nate left to get some groceries and meds, Sam slept in the other room. Dean and I sat on the couch, killing time watching TV.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "I need to talk to you about something."

I furrowed my brow. "Yeah?"

"Listen, and try not to flip out," Dean said.

I shot him a skeptical look. "Well, judging by the way you're saying that... I'm not promising anything."

He sighed. "When we were driving to that case, Nate told me something that's honestly got me worried."

My jaw clenched, anger bubbling up. "What?"

"Um." He cleared his throat. "You guys were alone, and you were apologizing to him about something, and then you, uh..." He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "Wanted to have sex—"

"What?!" I yelled.

"Hold on," he said. "He said when he told you no, you reacted like he was rejecting you."

"Oh my god! Why the hell would he tell you any of that?!" I shouted.

He shrugged. "He thought I should know."

I shook my head. "It has nothing to do with you. It's none of your business!"

Dean sighed. "Look, the kid is still scared that I'm gonna kill him if he looks at you wrong. If he told me that, he's seriously worried about you, and that makes it my business."

"I literally can't believe this," I muttered angrily.

"I already said whatever's between you two is your business. Even if I don't like it, I won't interfere," Dean explained.

"So, what's this, then?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not interfering. Nate and I are just... worried. We don't want you thinking you've got to use anything to escape whatever messed-up crap is goin' on in your head. I've walked that road, and it leads to nowhere good."

I scoffed and shook my head. "Well, I'm glad you and Nate were able to hash out what's best for me." I stood up, grabbing my coat. "I just wanted to feel normal again! Doing stuff I enjoyed before all this crap!"

"Where're you going?" Dean asked.

"I just need some fresh air!" I yelled. "Don't worry, gimpy, I'll be back." I turned to the doorknob.

"Maddi... can we please just talk about this?" he asked, trying to reposition himself on the couch to look at me.

"When your buddy comes back, you can let him know he never has to worry about me wanting to have sex with him again!" I whipped the door open.

"Maddison! Come on!" Dean shouted, but I slammed the door behind me, storming down the stone driveway. "Go to Hell, you son of a bitch cast!" his voice echoed from inside the cabin.

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