Crossover: House/SPN

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cuddy, House, Ducklings, Methos

For prompt: 025 Strangers

Spoilers: set after 1x10 SPN!verse, any time up to end s3 House!verse so could be spoilers for all up to those points.

Warnings: none

Summary: the fourth time Methos was there for something else.

The Winchesters have no medical insurance and an old friend who works at a free clinic…

A/N: fourth in the “5 times House didn’t cure Methos” series. Though actually this has very little to do with Methos – it just kind of popped into my brain how to make everything tie up nicely with some other stories in the web!verse..

A/N2: let’s pretend the events of Asylum took place somewhere near New Jersey.

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“Whoa! If I knew that’s what you were into I would have brought Chase down here with me: two for one special.”

Cameron cringed at the sound of House’s voice as he burst into the exam room unannounced, Sam and Dean flinching at the sudden intrusion.

“Was there something you wanted?” Cameron asked as her patient and his brother cast a wary eye over her boss.

“Script. I’m out.”

“Ask Wilson.”

“He’s saving a dying kid: asked me not to bother him.”

“And you listened?” Cameron asked as she fetched another pack of paper stitches. “What about Cuddy?”

“I thought she was in here – guess you just got lucky.”

Sam eyes flicked between his friend and the newcomer. Dean sighed where he lay back on the bed. His shirt had been left on a chair nearby while Cameron neatly cleaned the multitude of small holes in his chest. “Alli? Who is this guy?” Dean croaked.

“’Alli’?” House asked, suddenly more interested in these men.

Flustered, Cameron quickly wrote him the prescription for more Vicodin, thrusting it at him. “Here! Now get out and let me finish.”

House looked at her quizzically, before hooking the nearby trolley with his cane and looking into the kidney bowl that was holding whatever had peppered this guy’s torso.

“Rock salt?” he asked, “Rock salt shrapnel?”

“Get out, House!”

Cameron pushed him so hard he nearly stumbled, the pain in his leg making him wince before she shut the door in his face. He stood still, breathing slowly and rubbing his leg for a moment before he realised he could hear them clearly through the door.

She had said get out. She hadn’t said not to listen in.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cameron sighed. “My boss is a jerk sometimes. Actually all the time.”

“No problem.” That was Salted-Guy. There was something more wrong if he was making that kind of sound, probably an infection…

“Allison, is he going to be ok?” The tall one: Salted-Guy’s brother.

“He should be fine. It looks like there’s a little bit of infection round some of these entry sites, but that’s what happens when you let things fester for three days before treating them. Just be glad you guys aren’t regular hunters or you’d be dead about now.”

The hiss of indrawn breath. “Don’t I know it.”

“I’m sorry Dean…”

“Sammy shut up about it already. It wasn’t your fault. That ghost was controlling your mind.”

“Sounds like an interesting case.” House could hear the smile in Cameron’s voice. She was ok with them talking about ghosts and mind control? How did she know these two?

Dean started coughing.

“Hey Dean, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” cough, “just having trouble,” wheeze, “catching my breath.”

“Dean…”

“Dean, try and take a deep breath for me…”

House lurched back into the room, hooking his cane onto the trolley, before snatching up an oxygen mask.

“I’ve got it House!”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure you do. You,” this directed at Dean, “any pain?”

“My head…”

His eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolling back.

“Dean! What can I do?”

House glared at the brother. “You want to help, go get someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

Sam nodded mutely and ran out of the room, calling for help.

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“So! Head pain, fever and respiratory distress: go!”

“This also says he was shot?”

Cameron glared at Chase. “That’s unrelated.”

“Unrelated? He was shot: that generally leads to respiratory distress.”

“He was shot four days ago. The respiratory distress you’re talking about would have hit a little bit earlier.”

“How is this even our case? It sounds like a simple infection. Start him on broad spectrum antibiotics and cut him loose.” Foreman dropped the file back on to the table.

“I agree!” Cameron announced, exasperated.

House turned from writing on the white board. “They’re your friends. I thought you at least would want to help them.”

Cameron sighed as Chase and Foreman looked quizzically at her.

“Chase, Foreman check their home for toxins and infectious agents. Cameron you’re with me. Let’s see what your buddies have to say.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to talk to a patient?” Chase asked incredulously as put on his jacket.

“How can I resist?” House said with a malicious grin at Cameron as he held the door of the office open for her.

Cameron sighed angrily, preceding him through the door. “Why are you doing this?” She asked as she stalked off down the hall, House barely managing to keep up.

“Because – I find it interesting.”

“That I have friends?”

“That these two are your friends.”

They reached Dean’s room and Cameron pulled the door open viciously, making Sam start up from where he had been sat on the edge of the bed.

Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets while Dean snickered at his jumpy-ness.

“Allison, what’s up?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking to House uncertainly.

Cameron sighed, addressing Dean while House took a seat in the corner, smiling to himself while he watched them together.

“We think you have an infection, probably caused by your wounds festering.” She went over to a drawer and pulled out a syringe and an ampoule. “We’re going to start you on broad spectrum antibiotics until we can find out exactly what infection it is.” She filled the syringe, slipping it into his IV and depressing the plunger. “You should start to feel better soon.”

“Thanks Allison,” Sam said, looking relieved.

“Yeah, thanks Alli,” Dean winced. “Got something for this headache too?”

“Sure.”

She fetched another ampoule and injected something new into the IV.

House stood and hobbled over, looking concerned. “How bad a headache? Worse than the salt wounds?”

“Yeah, it is.” Dean confirmed, watching House warily. “So?”

“So you got shot in the chest with salt and yet your head hurts more. So either your chest is numb or your head is about to explode.”

“What are you-ah!!”

Dean grabbed at his head suddenly.

“Dean?!”

“Hey, Gigantor, move!”

House let his cane drop and quickly moved Sam out of the way, pulling Dean’s hands away from his face.

There was blood pouring from his eyes and starting to leak from his ears.

“Oh my God,” Cameron ran to supply trolley. “Sam, get out! Nurse! Get him out of here!”

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“So what do head pain and bleeding from the eyes and ears bring to the party?”

“Head pain generally suggests something wrong with the head.” Foreman offered.

House turned from writing on the white board. “Thank god we have a neurologist here.” House turned back and finished what he was writing. “Unfortunately there are no neurological symptoms, so what else? Find anything at their house?”

“Looks like they’ve been living out of their car,” Chase replied. “Found receipts for about a dozen motels in the ash tray…”

House sensed there was something else. “And?”

Chase and Foreman shared a look, gazes flicking to Cameron.

“What?” She asked.

Chase caved. “We found a load of weaponry in the trunk. Axes, knives, guns…gasoline and a whole load of crazy stuff.”

House leant on his cane. “Moderately interesting but not medically relevant.”

“If they’ve got that kind of stuff in their trunk who knows what they’re up to?” Foreman rebutted.

“They’re not up to anything!” Cameron cried defensively.

“Oh they are definitely up to something but all I care about is anything that can cause him to bleed out of his eyes. Since stabbing and gunshot wounds don’t generally do that I don’t care.” House waddled back and forth as he mused. “What if Foreman was right? What if it’s something in his head?”

Foreman went to stand. “I’ll get a CT.”

“Whoa, whoa! Did I say get a CT?”

Foreman sat back down looking disgruntled.

“Now. What if the infection is causing swelling in his head? Swelling means blood, blood means bleeding…”

“That much blood in his brain would mean he was dead.” Cameron stated.

House stopped pacing and eased himself into a chair, holding his leg carefully and wincing as he settled himself.

“Did I say swelling in his brain? No, I said swelling in his head. The blood brain barrier-“

“Even if that were possible there would still have to have been significant trauma to the barrier previously and there’s no history…”

“Weren’t you just saying they could have been up to anything?”

His crew were silent.

“Right, open up his head and we’ll start administering the antibiotics where they are actually needed.”

Cameron stood, her hands flat on the table in front of her, her face a mask of anger. “You can’t just open up his head! You don’t even know whether you’re right! And even if you were you could just be putting more stress on an already delicate area!”

House glanced at his other two lackeys and saw their resolve was as set as Cameron’s.

He sighed, deeply, regretting encouraging them to grow backbones. “Fine. But you know I’m just going to get Cuddy to approve it anyway.”

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“Cuddy! Need to stick an antibiotic reservoir into a patient’s head. That’s fine right? Good.”

House went to shut the door of the exam room behind himself.

“Wh-wait! House! Excuse me.”

“No problem.”

House paused. He recognised that voice. Cuddy pulled the door out of his hand.

“House what are you talking about? House will you listen to me?”

He wasn’t listening to her. He was trying to see round her. There was no way he could be sitting in that exam room.

“You can’t just stick things in patients’ heads for the fun of it. I assume your team already told you that and that’s why you’re here? Well I’m going to tell you the exact same thing unless you can give me a damn good reason…”

“You have a team now? You must have done well on that project…”

House found himself grinning as the owner of the voice was confirmed and gently pushed Cuddy out of the way, limping passed her into the exam room.

“What are you doing here?” He asked the patient.

Cuddy looked flustered and a little confused. “Do you two know each other?”

“I do have other friends besides Wilson.”

“Since when?”

House was impressed: Cuddy has gone from thrown to smart ass in about five seconds.

Still, the man sat on the examination table was far more interesting. A man that could regrow organs and come back from the dead had no need to be in a clinic.

“You are not ill.” House said, absolutely certain of the truth of his statement.

“Mr Pierson has severe anaemia as well as stomach infection. I was just about to admit him.”

House met Mr Pierson’s eyes. “You, are not ill.”

“Sure I am.” Adam gave a pitifully fake cough.

Cuddy didn’t know what on earth was going on between her patient and the bane of her life, but she didn’t care. “House, get out. He is not your patient. Your patient needs to be given time for the antibiotics he’s on to work before you start putting stuff in his head.”

House turned to her. “So true, but if you don’t mind we need to talk: man stuff.”

All Cuddy could do was splutter as House ushered her out the door and slammed it in her face.

“So,” he hooked the chair in the corner with his cane and dragged it closer, sitting himself down in front of the Immortal. “What’s got you opening veins and chugging ipecac just to get yourself in hospital?”

“Hey it took a long time to make myself anaemic enough to get admitted. Do you know how difficult it is to bleed yourself when you keep healing? What happened to your leg?”

“Pulled it poll dancing,” House said, uncomfortably. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Sam Winchester.”

“Salted guy’s brother?” House asked, confused. “He’s interesting to you why exactly?”

“A lot of reasons. Mostly I want to make sure I’m his teacher once his crazy life gets him killed and he becomes Immortal.”

House could tell Adam was being serious, but something still seemed off.

“I’ve never known you when you’ve had a student. Why now all of a sudden? Why this kid? I can’t imagine you’ve survived for however long you have by taking on needy cases…”

Adam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It’s complicated. Sam’s…interesting.”

House could understand how a puzzle could drive you nuts. Seemed like this was going to be Adam’s: for this century at least.

“I just want to keep an eye on him,” Adam went on. “I lost them for a while and with a life as dangerous as theirs I can’t afford to miss a second when Sam could die.”

“So…you’ve been following them?”

Adam didn’t like the look in Greg’s eyes: he looked entirely too calculating for anything good to come of it. He nodded, uncertain of where this was leading.

“Can you think of anything they’ve done that might cause Dean to bleed out of his eyes and ears? Head trauma? Anything?”

“Well…there was Bloody Mary.” Adam said, remembering the night he had seen them both staggering out of the antique store, blood streaming down their faces. He had been glad Sam hadn’t died of that one: an Immortal with no brain left was not a pretty sight.

House looked incredulous. “The urban legend?”

“Ghost actually.”

House looked more incredulous.

Adam returned his look. “You’re sat here discussing this with man you’ve seen come back from the dead: twice. Came back after you removed all his organs actually.”

“I still have your pancreas.”

That put Adam off track. “Why?”

House shrugged resting his chin on his cane where he sat in the chair. “Never got rid of it.”

Adam tried to clear the image of his pancreas floating in a jar from his mind. “Anyway…the point is you already know the impossible happens: why not spirits and other nightly nasties?”

“Ok, I’ll bite. Tell me about Bloody Mary.”

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It was dark outside, the lights in the hospital subdued where they weren’t turned off for the night, when House opened Dean Winchester’s door with his cane, shutting it carefully and quietly behind him before he approached the bed. Sam was sat in a chair nearby, dozing fitfully, but Dean was awake.

“I’m feeling a lot better, thanks.” He whispered.

House nodded and kept his voice low in deference to the sleeping form in the corner…and because he didn’t want the whiny, highly-strung brother of the patient making a fuss. “You should be fine. It was just a regular infection after all.”

“But… my eyes…?”

“Your line of work you get all kinds of things in your head right? Spirits, demons?”

Dean looked at him sidelong and would have backed off if he hadn’t been lying in bed.

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much, but enough. Want to tell me about it?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, man. The less you know the better, trust me.”

House sat himself down on a chair, pulling it close to the bed. “I’ll tell you something about me: I can’t stand not knowing. So why don’t you tell me before I have to find out some other way?”

Dean sighed. “You should talk to Sammy, he’s the brain of this family.”

House snorted derisively. “He’s also the girl.” House knew he had him when Dean smirked. “So tell me about what you do.”

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“You lived in a haunted house?”

Cameron jumped, turning her back on her boss to slip her top on.

“House! This is the women’s showers!”

“And you’re a woman,” he said, helping himself to a seat on the bench next to where Cameron had her bag open. “Guess that’s how I knew how to find you here.”

Cameron snatched her bag away as he peered into it, hand raised as if to rummage.

House sighed, taking the small defeat easily. “You lived in a haunted house when you were at college. The Winchester boys and their dad killed the spirit and you lived happily ever after with your dying husband.”

Cameron zipped up her bag with more force than was necessary and went to leave.

“You know everything House. Congratulations.”

As she left, House let his head fall back against the lockers, a smile slowly spreading over his face.