"Dude, if you don't stop hovering, I'm going to beat you with my crutches."
Sam huffed and backed off a few inches, but he didn't stop with the hovering. Dean shook his head and decided that that was good enough for now. It had been a crappy month of absolute epic proportions for the two of them, but it was finally over.
"Do you really think you're ready?" Sam asked for the zillionth time.
"Yes, I'm goddamned ready. And no, I'm not staying an extra few days to make sure. I finished P.T. The doctor said everything looks good. My incisions are healed. The paperwork is signed. It's over. We're leaving now." Okay, so looming protective Sammy was cute for a while, but after another week in the hospital and an additional two weeks at the nursing home, it had gotten old. Like, really old. It was almost enough to make one consider the benefits of fratricide.
Dean was ready to be gone, ready to slide behind the wheel of his car and just drive for hours, his music turned up all the way. Sam couldn't even complain about that anymore. He'd bought himself one of those iPods, and between the two of them they'd determined that it had about five solid hours of battery life, and that Sam's taste in music was utter shit.
Well, Dean had figured it out. Sam was still in denial.
Dean was saved by Alexander coming into his room. After being kidnapped by one of the nursing home employees, Sam had made a little bit of noise about a lawyer – all of which was bullshit – and Dean had landed a private room with an extra bed, all at no additional charge. Alexander didn't look surprised at the hovering Sammy, but Dean figured most of the staff was pretty used to him by now. He'd all but made his staying by Dean's side constantly one of the conditions of their settlement.
"Take this thing away from me," Dean demanded, jerking his thumb at Sam.
Alexander shook his head. "Sorry, man, but it's discharge day. He's entirely your problem now."
Sam pouted behind him. Dean didn't have to look to see his expression, he just knew that Sam was being a pouty bitch.
"Jerk," Sam muttered.
That didn't even need a "bitch," but it hung there in the air anyway, unspoken. Besides, under it all Sam knew he was being obnoxious. Hell, Dean even understood it a bit. Were their positions reversed, he knew he would have been the one scaring away nice nurses and not making friends with the aides.
"You're really going?" Alexander asked.
"Yeah," Sam and Dean said in unison. Dean shot a look over at Sam, and he scowled and finished shoving Dean's clothes into the duffel bag.
"Are you going to miss me?" Dean asked.
Alexander laughed. "Hell, no." He leaned forward, wary of Sam and his death glare of doom, and then slapped Dean lightly on the shoulder. It still hurt a little, even though the stitches were gone, but it was a faint hurt, easily ignored. "Do us all here a big favor," Alexander continued, his voice a low rumble. "Don't come back."
As if a lot of the other staff hadn't managed to extract that promise out of him already. Even Nurse Cara said that she would stop calling him numb-nuts if he took Sam far away from them. "That's not a problem, dude," Dean promised. He looked over at Sam, who had tossed the duffel over his shoulder. "I guess this is it."
He hopped up on his crutches and hobbled out of the building. He didn't look back, didn't hesitate at all. The Winchester brothers weren't meant to stay in one place for very long. Even if Sam didn't understand that, Dean did. It was a relief to leave the place he'd been chained to for over a month.
Jen was standing next to the Impala, wearing what she charmingly referred to as her civvies: blue sneakers, jeans, faded t-shirt, and a plaid flannel shirt. The cut over her eye had faded to a little pink line, and he noted that she had even gotten new glasses.
"Hey," she said by way of greeting. "I see you got busted out of the joint."
Dean shrugged. "Walls weren't ever meant to hold me, you see. What're you doing here? You're not going to see us off, are you?"
Jen shook her head, and then looked over his shoulder. Sam was approaching with the final discharge papers in hand, proof that he was done with the nursing home. "I need a favor."
Her face was serious, but Dean couldn't help but tease, "You mean like fixing your car? Because if it were up to me, I would push that beat-up station wagon of yours off a cliff and buy a real car."
"I know you know what I mean," she said, but she smiled anyway.
Sam came up behind Dean, then, and Dean felt his shoulders relax. "What's up?" Sam asked.
Dean turned to face his brother. "We got work to do."
Well, that's it! Hope you all enjoyed the show. Just to let you know, there is a sequel in the works, written by my masterful partner in crime, the lovely Selecasharp.