AN: woot, finished before midnight! now i can sleep! have fun everyone, and thank you, thank you, thank you for the kind reviews!

this section is again unbetaed because of the deadline.

"Man, this sucks." Sam was in passenger seat. Well, sort of. Due to his lack of muscular strength, his appendages just went with the motion of the car. "I've got an itch on my nose, and can't scratch."

Dean chuckled, "Here, ya quadriplegic." He leaned over and bopped Sam on the nose.

"Gee, thanks."

"Glad to see your sarcasm hasn't lost its luster Sammy." He didn't say that everything else wasn't working. When Dean had bundled his brother into the car, he asked if Sam wanted front seat, or to sprawl in the back. Sam insisted on the front so he could see where they were going. This, of course, was kind of pointless as Sam's vision was still fuzzy at best. And even if he could see, the venom still sent waves of pain through Sam's nervous system. Judging by Henrickson's timetable, the venom had about 5 hours to work its fateful magic. But as their information provided, it was a case by case basis on how fast the venom worked.

They were back in the Impala, speeding along the interstate back to Lawrence and to Missouri. As per Dean, speed limits were easily overlooked, and if Henrickson had been watching, he would've added a multitude of traffic violations to the rap sheet. Missouri had said something about connections at the local poison control center, so their chances of getting Sam the actual antidote were high. Also, they had not seen any signs of government, FBI, or police force, so Sam and Dean felt a certain amount of elation.

"So how do you think Jo got screwed up in this?" Even on his deathbed, Sam's questions continued.

"I dunno." Dean stared hard at the road in front of the car, "Frankly, I don't give a shit. She sold us out."

"Well, I do kinda deserve it. I did some pretty terrible crap when Meg was possessing me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude! How many times do I have to tell you, there was no way you could've stopped that."

Silence descended on the Impala as both Winchesters were left their thoughts on Jo. Sam was wracked with guilt, thinking that her treachery was simply her way of getting back at him for what he did. Dean was thinking over the first time she called him, less than 36 hours ago. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't remember just what.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean thumped the wheel, "She didn't sell us out Sam, she tried to warn me!"


"In the call, she said 'Clara'. We don't know anyone by that name. Guess that was her way of telling me not to come. Piss poor way, but geez, Henrickson was probably listening."

"Wow Dean, you are wise. Couldn't you tell something was up when she started naming random people we don't know?"

"Ya know, if your supposed to be paralyzed, how come your mouth still works?"

"Shaddup." Sam groaned as another spasm of pain echoed through his system. "I got enough issues without having to listen to your monologues, thanks."

"Hey, I could give ol' Shakespeare a run for his money. Monologues are a hidden talent."


Four and a half hours later found Dean on Missouri's doorstep. He pounded on the door and hurried back to the street to drag Sam to the house.

"Boy, you had better not be serious about dragging that poor boy all the way up here." Missouri's soft voice nevertheless carried with an authority. "Here, take this wheelchair. It'll save everyone."

"Hey Missouri. How've ya been?" Dean automatically kept himself in check around the stout psychic. He took the chair from her. "Thanks."

"Hmm, better than you two, it seems." She toddled after him down to the car and Sam. She gasped at the prone form in the passenger seat. "Oh, Sam dear."

Sam had lost consciousness about an hour previous, fever hiking back up to dangerous temperatures. Though he had no movement, his body began a fine shivering. His leg was beginning to turn a sickening shade of deep maroon, nearly black. The entry wound was completely black, the skin beginning to flake off.

"Oh dear. We need to get him in the house, quickly! C'mon Dean, don't just gawk, grab him under the arms. Move it!"

Dean bit back the retort and did what he was told. As he lifted his brother's upper half, Missouri helped guide Sam's feet out of the car. Head lolling on Dean's shoulder, Sam barely had breath. Fear stabbed at Dean, forcing him to wonder if they were too late.

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer with each passing second. Already on edge, Dean swore. "Crap. They're coming Missouri. We gotta work quick, he's barely holding on."

"Hush child, we'll get Sam squared away. I have the injection in the kitchen. And don't you worry about those Coppers. You think I'm just here to spout out knowledge? Get him inside, I'll take care of things out here. Give me your keys."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You drive my car? Oh, alright, fine. But be careful, she's a handful."

"Boy, Move it!" She grabbed the keys from his extended hand and hurried to the drivers side. As Dean wheeled Sam into the house, he watched as she guided the car gracefully around the corner, out of sight.

He found the syringe, as promised, on the kitchen counter. Wasting no precious time, he jammed it into Sam's leg. His brother jerked with the movement, uttering a short cry before falling back into the oblivion.

"C'mon Sammy. Don't do this again. Don't leave me again." He grabbed Sam's limp hand in his own, but let it go quickly as Missouri bustled back in.

"Now you need to appreciate the saying of quiet as the grave, boy. I have it on good authority that they don't have a warrent, but you can't give them cause for searching by useless chatter." She ran hand over Sam's head, "Did he get it in time?"

"I-I think so. He hasn't stopped breathing, so that's good, right?"

"Yes, excellent. Frank over at the clinic said it would take about 10 minutes to see any improvement, about a day to get rid of the toxin fully."

"What? We don't-"

A knock at the door interrupted Dean's complaint. "Dean Winchester, we know you are in there. Come out, and no one need get hurt."

Dean grumbled, but refrained from saying anything. Missouri was looking daggers at him as she moved towards the front hall.

"Now excuse, Agent-"

"Henrickson. Now where's-"

"Yes, Mr. Henrickson. What in the Lord's name are you doing, banging on my door and hollering for men?" Dean grinned at Missouri's stout words, glad they were used on someone else.

"Ma'am, we have reason to suspect that you have some dangerous criminals in your house. The clinic reported that you purchased a dosage of the cure for Asp venom. Now what do you need that for?"

"Son, you take that tone with me one more time, I'll whack you with my spoon. Now, let's figure a few things out."

"Lady, I don't care if you're Mother Teresa. I'm getting the Winchesters, and I don't give a damn how rude I sound doing it."

"Now see here Agent. I will not have you standing there, disrespecting me with your unfounded accusations and insults. You hold your tongue, or I shall have you up on harassment faster than you can beg for your mother." Dean silently raised a fist in the air, urging her on. "Now show me a warrant, and i shall show you my house."

"I don't need a warrant when I know they're in there. Step away from the door now."


Dean could practically feel the battle of fiery wills coming from the front hallway, worried that Henrickson might do something to Missouri. However, the next word surprised him utterly.

"Fine. Mrs. Mosley, you are quite lucky that nothing came up on your record. Have a good day." The dripping sarcasm was evident, but Missouri came out the victor. A second later, the door shut and she walked back to the kitchen and the boys.

"Missouri, you are awesome! Thanks." Dean couldn't suppress the brilliant grin at her small victory.

She returned the smile. "He was rude anyway. I can't abide rudeness. Now lets have some tea. You can leave when I say it's clear. He's lurking around outside, waiting for you to go out the back. He'll come back tomorrow with a warrant, but you'll be long gone."

"Thanks again, you really hit a homer for us."

"No problem, I just wish you would visit when someone's life wasn't at stake." She looked over Sam, who hadn't moved since the injection. Though stationary, they could see that his pallor was better, and the swelling had gone down in Sam's leg.

Her eyes met Dean's. "Yes, he'll be alright. Will you?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah." Though he couldn't avoid her power, Dean avoided her eyes.

"No, you're not. But you will be. Now sit, and tell me what's been happening. I'd imagine sharing will help."

And as Sam began to heal, so too did Dean, in his own way. He knew Missouri could find it all out in his head, but really, telling her would be easier. She listened as he relayed the events of Wyoming. Missouri needn't have said anything, so she didn't. Sam awoke sometime later, and too relayed the past events. And when the coast was clear, she ushered the brothers out the back door, playing the part of a supporter excellently.

As she stood in the door, waving, they looked back and waved also, ghosts of grins flickering across troubled features.

"You will be fine." She knew in her heart, and in her power, that the Winchesters would make it through.

EL FIN!!! Thanks Devan for the awesome prompt! Sorry if it got a little Deancentric, forgive me?