Disclaimer:I own no part of Supernatural or its characters. No profit is derived from this story. It is intended for entertainment purposes only; mostly my own.
Hi! This here is my first Supernatural Fic! I dedicate this story to my husband who was too stubborn to see a doctor a now has walking pneumonia. He's going to be fine and is already back at work after only taking a day off (because he's so stubborn), but the title of this story is the line he always gave me when he refused to go and see the doctor. Hope you enjoy. :D
Doctors are Dicks
"Sam...Sam...Sammy!" A pillow flew across the darkened room and landed square on its intended target.
"Whuh?...wha's goin on?" Sam darted up from the unexpected an attack.
"Your coughing, that's what's going on and I haven't been able to sleep for days...you either."
"I was asleep, you ass." Sam came back in irritation, tossing the pillow back at his brother.
"Like you can sleep through that hacking you're doing."
"Sorry, it's not like I can control it." Sam's retort only lead to another bout of chest rattling coughs that led Dean to sigh in frustration.
"Face it Sam, its been three weeks since this started, you need to go to a doctor."
"Doctors are dicks, Dean, you say that all of the time" Sam replied with a rough throat once his lungs allowed air to pass into them again. "I'm not going to some med-center or emergency room where they'll make me wait around for eight hours only to tell that I have a cold then charge us $200 for the visit and a bottle of cough syrup that I could buy at a Walgreens for $2."
"Yeah, well that $2 bottle of cough syrup you've been chugging all week isn't doing crap and you know it."
Another round of ferocious coughing was the only thing that managed to stop Sam from coming back with a scathing remark from Dean's accusation as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and leaned heavily onto his knees. Dean flopped back down in the bed watching his little brother, torn between believing him and wanting to grab his pigheaded ass, throwing him into the car and dragging him to the nearest hospital.
Once the fit had passed, Sam rubbed his chest as it flared painfully then got up and headed for the bathroom, washing his face and getting a drink of cool water from the sink, hoping it might soothe his raw throat and lungs. Truth was, he felt like crap, but they had things they had to do. There wasn't any time to be sick.
"Sam..." He heard Dean call out from the bedroom.
"I don't want to hear anymore, Dean." He shot back. "I'll be fine in a few days, besides I think I found us a job last night after you fell asleep."
"The job can wait...you need to get better first."
"People are dying, Dean..." Sam blew him off as he walked out of the bathroom to see his brother out of bed and slipping on a pair of jeans.
"When aren't they?" Dean grumbled, zipping up then tossing on a t-shirt.
"C'mon. Take a look. " Sam gestured for Dean to come over as he opened his laptop and brought up the info he found last night . His brother came up behind him and looked over his shoulder while he relayed the situation to him.
"There's an apartment building in downtown Atlanta that has had four women die in apparent suicide over the last ten years- the last one, just a couple of days ago. All of them fit a certain profile....young, blonde and single and each of them supposedly jumped to their death."
"You don't think they committed suicide." Dean stated.
"No. Not a single one of them had a history of depression, but with no signs of anyone coming into their apartments, their deaths were all ruled suicides. However, the strangest thing is that all of them jumped shortly after getting out of the shower, all of them without bothering to get dressed first."
"You mean naked girls are jumping off buildings? Dean asked. "and you didn't wake me up?"
Sam smiled, he knew he had Dean in his net then.
"What are we waiting for?" Dean grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the motel room door. "Let's go save the naked chicks."
"Don't you think it's a little ironic how everything in this city is named 'Peachtree this' or 'Peachtree that' yet we have yet to see one damn peach tree since we got into Georgia?" Dean asked with a crooked grin.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and didn't bother to respond as his head and chest felt like they were going to implode when they finally pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the Peachtree Place apartment building. Three hundred miles of Metallica, AC/DC and for some reason, Foreigner, was usually enough to bring on a migraine in and of itself, but with chills coursing through him and what seemed to be the weight of an elephant sitting on his chest, Dean's sarcasm did little to improve his mood. Sam was feeling more miserable than ever and he was beginning to admit to himself after his hundredth coughing fit that this was more than just a cold and it had been going on long enough.
"Can we just get to the job?." Sam grumbled as they got out of the car then gripped the hood as a sudden coughing jag took hold, leaving him feeling a little on the dizzy side afterward as he fought to catch his breath.
"Sam, you look and sound like shit. We can just come back later."
"No, Dean." He came back breathlessly then straightened up as if to prove that he didn't feel like falling over. "I'm fine. What if whatever is here decides to pick another victim? We're here, so let's go kill this thing."
Dean stood his ground, crossing his arms and putting on his best over-protective, big-brother face.
"No. You're not fine. Why don't you just admit that you're sick?"
"Dean, don't be a jerk."
"Then don't be a bitch."
The two brothers faced off, neither backing down until Sam began to feel his throat tickle again and the urge to cough overtook him and there was no fighting it after that as more painful hacks coursed through his chest.
"See what I mean? We need to get you to a doctor"
"Fine." Sam conceded when he could breathe again. He had to admit that it might not be such a bad idea to see a doctor after all and get some decent medicine and few days rest, but it would have to wait until they had done their job. "but let's do this first." He pleaded.
Dean narrowed his eyes, concerned by the dark circles and pale complexion Sam was sporting, but realizing that he wasn't going to be able to drag Sam away, he sighed, giving in to his little brother's assurances that he could do this, even if it went against everything his gut was telling him.
"Okay....but if I think for one second that you can't back me up in there, then I'm calling this off, naked chicks or no."
"Fine." Sam nodded in agreement and the two headed for the trunk to gather the necessary supplies.
"Alright, now what exactly do you think we're dealing with here?" Dean asked as he loaded a shotgun and shoved it inside a duffle bag. Sam had already explained the gist of the job during the drive to Atlanta, but he really hadn't been paying much attention.
"Well, I dug into the history of the building and about ten years ago there was a murder on the fourteenth floor of a young, single blonde woman, just like all of the girls that have dying recently. The super, John Mills, confessed to pushing the girl off of her balcony."
"She naked too?"
"Focus, Dean...can you do that for a moment?." Sam ran a hand through his hair in irritation before continuing "Yeah, she was naked and wet like she had just come out of the shower and was surprised by her attacker. After Mills was arrested, he committed suicide, hung himself in prison and according to prison records, left a suicide note that explained that he killed the girl because she had reported a hot water problem to the city housing inspectors and he lost his job. All signs point to this guy being our problem, but the thing is, his body was cremated by the state."
"So, you think he might have some remains left here in the building and his spirit is attacking these girls again out of what...Revenge?"
"It fits. The girls that died all put in complaints about the hot water going out. The police are calling them suicides because there's no physical evidence that anyone came into their apartments. Plus, this building has been through an endless list of supers, some of them only staying a few days, claiming to hear strange noises coming from the boiler room and there have even a few sightings of a man that appears then vanishes without a trace. All of them matches the description of Mills."
"'Kay, sounds like cake. We go in, check out the boiler room, find whatever piece of Mills got left behind, salt it, torch it, then get you to the doctor." Dean slapped Sam on the back, not helping his younger brother's migraine situation any.
"Yeah, easy." Sam mumbled in agreement, pinching his nose as though it could push out the pain in his head. "Then again, when has anything ever been that simple?"
"Building inspectors? Weren't you guys here just last week?" Jimmy McElroy, Peachtree Place apartments' current superintendent questioned in a gravelly southern drawl as the two brothers stood side by side in his office. "You guys got any kind of ID?"
"Sure." Dean pulled out a billfold at the same time as Sam and they both handed the clearly annoyed super their ID's.
"Dean Hetfield and Sam Ulrich..." Jimmy the supers mused as he read, but he seemed to buy it. "Like I was saying. We passed inspection last week. What's wrong now?"
"We got a few complaints about the hot water."
"Yeah, yeah , yeah...I get a complaint about once a week about it, but I'm telling you, Our boiler is working just fine."
"Mind if we take a look at it?" Dean asked.
"Suit yourself" sighed Jimmy as he grabbed a set of keys and tossed them to Dean. "Just be careful."
"Why's that?" Questioned Sam.
"Because, according to the previous super, a guy lost a hand a few years ago checking that thing out."
"A hand? How'd he do that?"
"Now, I don't know if this is actually true or not and it could be just another urban legend, but I guess the guy got it caught inside one of the hand holes that are meant for inspecting the pipes. He must have caught it between something and his hand swelled from the heat because he was too stupid to turn it off and wait for it to cool. I was told that he was stuck in there for almost two days, must have been hell with it being so hot down there. Story goes that no one heard him yelling for help since it's in the basement. He lived alone and wasn't too well liked around here, so no one was looking for him. So, out of desperation and delirious from a lack of water, he cut it off with a pocket knife."
"He cut off his own hand? With a pocket knife?....Dude, that's hard core.." Snorting in amazement, Dean shook his head.
"Yeah, nasty huh?" Jimmy agreed.
"What happened to the hand?" Sam asked and the super gave him a 'are you kidding me?' kind of look.
"How the hell should I know? Anyway, the guy got what he deserved if you ask me, I hear he pushed a girl out a window or something, but I don't know the whole story, it was before I started working here. "
Convinced that they were on the right track, the boys took that opportunity to take their leave of Jimmy and walked out of the office towards the basement stairs.
"You believe that story? You actually think that our spook's hand is still in the boiler?" Dean asked as soon as they were alone.
"Could be, I remember reading in his prison records that he had a prosthetic left hand, I didn't think too much about it at the time as they never listed a cause for him losing his hand. That could be what happened. It could also be a reason for his decline in mental health and why he was so angry afterward, something like that has to have an adverse effect on a person's psyche."
"But, what I don't get is how it could still be in there." Dean wondered. "It's been ten years, I mean didn't they look for it or wouldn't it have burned up?"
"They probably weren't looking for it. It wasn't as if it was going to be of any use to Mills anymore. They probably figured it must have fallen into the furnace. I guess it's possible that it fell between the pipes instead to a spot where the furnace couldn't reach it. Either way, we know something must have been left behind or Mills wouldn't be hanging out here."
"Okay, I guess that's possible, but what I really want to know is... how come you know so much about boilers?"
"It's called reading Dean, you should try it sometime."
"I mean something other than Penthouse forum letters."
"Okay, Genius, then tell me this. If that hand's still stuck in there, how are we supposed to get it out without getting our own hands stuck?"
"I don't know...How about we use a pole or something to fish it out."
"Oh! I know just the thing! Wait here...I'll be right back." Dean took off, leaving Sam in the hallway. Once alone, Sam slumped against a wall, exhausted. He was beginning to have his own doubts about being physically capable of facing a spirit head-on, especially if it was the kind of ghost that like tossing people around. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a couple of aspirin, popping them into his mouth to chew them up. It tasted horrible, but he prayed it would keep the fever and headache away for long enough for them to get the job done.
Dean was back about a minute later, carrying a large, wrought-iron fire poker that Sam had never seen before
"You keep a fire poker in the car?"
"What?...No...I saw it by the fireplace in the building's foyer when we came in. Why would I keep one in the car? That would be...weird."
"Yeah, I suppose it would be weird compared to having an arsenal in there and twenty pounds of rock salt." Sam came back sarcastically.
"C'mon, let's go take care of the situation at hand..." Dean snickered. "get it? At hand?" Sam only shook his head at the lame joke and walked off.
"What? You got hand it to me..it was funny."
"Shut up, Dean."
Sam was trailing behind Dean by the time they started down the staircase to the basement. The aspirin had done little to take the edge off his headache and if anything, he was feeling worse. Dragging slower and slower with each step, a fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead and he had to stop, grabbing onto handrail as another bout of coughing took hold.
"Son of a bitch..." Dean stopped and turned around, not liking what he was seeing and cursing the stubborn nature of his little brother.
"Shit, Sammy, I swear to God-" He complained, then climbed back up to Sam and pounded on his back to help loosen up some of the gunk trapped in his lungs. "We don't need to do this today. We can come back..."
"We're here now, Dean." Sam wheezed and cleared his throat. "and we've already used our cover story to get in. It's now or never and there are women here that are still in danger. I don't know about you, but I don't want to lose any more innocent people on our watch."
"Lose anyone else? What the hell?" Dean questioned, then a realization struck him. "Is this still about that werewolf chick, Madison?" Sam turned away wearily and Dean knew he hit a sore spot. "C'mon Dude, that was a month ago, you got to get over it already. I know you liked her and all, but you can't save everyone."
Sam's head shot back around, his nostrils flaring in sudden anger.
"We didn't just fail to save her, Dean. I killed her..."
"She was a monster, Sammy. She wanted you to do it." Dean had Sam by the collar now and was dangerously close to his face, his eyes blazing into Sam's. "It's time to let it go."
Sam pushed Dean away and went around him, heading down the stairs with renewed vigor, powered by anger.
Dean sighed with a roll of his eyes. Sometimes Sam could be such a drama queen.
"You see anything?" Sam asked while he salted the only exit and sealed them inside for whatever might come their way.
"I'm looking already, give me a minute, will ya?" groused Dean as he tried to peer into the small hole on the side of the boiler. It was hotter than the hinges of Hades in the room and being so close to the boiler only made the sweat from his forehead pour down into his eyes and sting them.
Flashing his light into the small space, he hoped to find whatever they needed to soon and just get out of that hell hole. Seeing a small shape near the bottom of the pipes, Dean could just make the tip of finger bones
"Dean! Look out!" Sam shouted to his brother as a force pushed him backwards and he landed hard against the far wall, knocking the wind out of him. Mills' spirit, a figure dressed in grey coveralls and wielding his claw-like, prosthetic hand like a club. He loomed over Dean as he scrambled away and tried to get his lungs to work again. The spirit lunged and came at him for another go, taking another whack at Dean and he rolled to the side to escape, but was clipped across the back. Dean growled in pain just as the vengeful spirit swung his arm down to bash his head in, but before he made contact, a shotgun blast echoed across the cinder-block walls and the spirit burst into smoke.
"Hurry! He'll be back." Dean shouted from the floor, gesturing for Sam to get back to the boiler. "Whatever is in that thing, he really doesn't want us to find it."
Sam went back to the hole in the boiler and took up trying to fish out the now skeletal hand with the iron fire poker. Dean picked himself off the floor and ran back to the door, opened the duffel bag and grabbed the other shotgun, ready for Mills to come back.
"C'mon..c'mon..." Sam begged as the poker again and again picked up the hand and dropped it, like a cheap skill crane machine, not getting a good grip on it.
"I'm not sure I can get it out." Sam admitted. "I can barely see it. I need more light."
Dean came up behind Sam and shone his flashlight into the space all the while keeping his eye out for Mills and his finger over the trigger of his shot gun. Sam tried over and over to pick up the hand, but even with Dean's hyper vigilant eyes, neither one of them was prepared for when Mills suddenly reappeared right next to Dean, picked him up bodily and tossed him across the room again, losing hold of the shot-gun.
"Dean!" Sam shouted.
"Get the hand, Sam!" Dean yelled back as he had to fight back with his fists, but damn if Mills wasn't one roided up spirit as he landed blow after blow to Dean's face.
The spirit grabbed Dean's neck and lifted him off the floor the threw him into the wall. Dean felt his head make sharp contact with concrete and darkness threatened to take hold of him, but seeing Mills come up behind Sam as he tried to get a hold of the hand had him back on his feet.
Knowing that the ghost would be gunning for him next, Sam struggled with the poker and finally got a hold of the hand, but dropped it again just before he felt two hands around his neck. Thrown to the floor, the ghost pressed his weight onto Sam's chest with a murderous and insane howl as he choked the breath out of him. The corners of his vision grew dark and just before the blackness took over he heard his brother shout.
"No! Goddammit, get off of him you son of a bitch!" before it could kill Sam, Dean ran to the boiler, grabbed the salt and flung it towards Mills. With a scream, the spirit disappeared , leaving Sam lying still on the floor.
Right then, Dean saw his opportunity to finish the spirit off once and for all and he cursed his stupidity for not thinking of it sooner. Wasting no time, Dean began to carry out his new plan. Reaching inside the bag, he took out the bottle of lighter fluid and then tossed a generous helping of salt into the boiler, aiming for the hand. Satisfied that it was coated, he sprayed the lighter fluid inside then lit a match and tossed it toward the hand.
"Shit!" he missed the hand and the match went out. He lit another just as he saw Mills return beside him. Dean tossed it in and smiled as he saw it light, the fire growing and leaping across the remains. Half a second later, he watched in satisfaction as Mills' spirit burst into flames and disappeared.
"Got him, Sam." Dean called out, but was met with silence. "Sam?"
He turned to see Sam continuing to lie still on the floor and he darted to his little brother's side, touching his neck to feel for a pulse. He was alive, but the clammy heat emanating from his skin had Dean shocked.
"Shit, Sammy... You're burning up."