Part 8

"Hey, we lose you there?"

Dean was watching the running faucet. The hunters were lingering around the kitchen table after dinner, though it had ended awhile ago. Sam was washing the dishes, a dishcloth on his shoulder. Dean's injuries allowed him a pardon from kitchen duty.

"Just tired." Dean blinked, breaking his concentration on the water. He gave a side glance to Caleb, and accompanied his glare with a warning. "Don't think I'm tired enough that I don’t expect a sneak attack from you two. I want this cast to stay clean."

"What's the fun in that?" Sam grinned.

Caleb placed his hand over Dean's face to prevent him from saying anything further. "Dad, can't you give him something stronger?"

Mackland frowned, and gestured for his son remove his hand from the other hunter's visage. "I’d rather not, he was unconscious for awhile." The doctor gave Dean a nod. He hadn’t forgotten his promise. "I expect you two to both leave that cast alone."

"Is that an order?" Caleb asked, wondering about the silent communication between his father and Dean.

Ames sniffed the brandy he had poured himself as an after dinner drink. He peered from over the snifter. "Yes, from The Scholar."

"Damn." Caleb rolled his eyes. He noticed Dean had fallen into quietness once more. He followed the younger hunter's gaze. "What are you looking at?"

Dean cocked his head to the side. "The water. It's funny. Stronger than rock, you know?"

Mackland turned to watch the water, he knitted his brows together.

Caleb shook his head. "Not really. Not a big fan," he replied casually. His parent's death at the beach house had forever marred the fluid element.

Dean wasn't really paying attention to the others. "Hmm. You know if something gets in its way, it just flows around, but after some time, water wears away any rock and makes a path through it."

Sam had shut off the faucet, and turned to stare at his brother. "Dean, you okay?"

Caleb placed a hand on Dean's forehead. "You relapsing or something?"

Dean swatted the offending hand away. He was divulging too much information even though he knew they would never make the connection to The Lady of the Lake. "Tough audience. I have a lot more respect for you Mac."

"Me?" Mackland did not understand the younger hunter's reasoning.

Dean smirked. "All those times you tried to share some lofty idea and all we wanted to do was watch The Simpsons."

"I tried to tell you that television would eat your mind." Ames crossed his arms. "Samuel, stop mimicking me."

Sam had been behind the doctor parroting him by mouthing Mac’s television warning word for word. The youngest hunter's mouth dropped open, and he reddened. "I . . ." he stuttered.

"Busted!" Dean exclaimed, putting his hand slightly up in the air before an aching pain made him think twice about the action. "I thought the day would never come, bro." He cradled his arm to his torso.

"What?"

Caleb was also beaming in merriment. "As the baby of this family you could do no wrong. Nice to know you're so like the rest of us."

Sam took the towel and snapped it at Caleb, who laughed harder as did Dean.

"Okay, that's enough." Mackland put a stop to the rowdiness, noticing Dean was not laughing but instead gasping for breath. "He needs to go to bed."

Dean bent over and put his hand out for the other hunters to give him a minute to compose himself. He took in slow breaths, until finally he was able to take in air without feeling a painful hitch.

"You need help?" Sam crouched down in front of his brother and spoke to him loudly and slowly as if trying to communicate with a very elderly person.

Dean gave his brother a playful shove, needing the space in order to stand. "Nah." He was confident he could make it up the stairs, albeit slowly. "Goodnight," he said as he shuffled to the stairs, figuring that actually picking up his feet would require too much effort.

After five minutes Caleb called out. "You made it past the first step yet?"

Dean was actually on the third step, with quite a few left to climb. He was using the banister for leverage to propel forward. "Shut up, Damien." He was perfectly capable of making it to his room, then immediately taking some pain medication.

Not even a minute elapsed and Caleb called out again. "How about now?"

Dean didn't reply. He could hear Sam chuckling along. He would so get revenge on his brother at a later date.

"Now?" Reaves said again.

"Jackass," Dean hollered out, which only elicited more laughter.

It took another twenty-four hours, and an upgrade to prescription pain pills before Dean was able to go to the pond. He was determined. It was difficult to lay awake until the house became silent. His body wanted to rest. The bruising on his chest was a vivid purple black color and had peaked in intensity. Mac had recommended, through a thinly veiled order, the brothers needed to stay for at least three more days. Ames would be returning to New York soon and Caleb would be left to enforce his 'suggestion.'

Satisfied with the quietness in the home, Dean climbed out the window. As he scurried down the roof slowly, he thought it would have been easier for him to take the stairs and go out the back door. He was an adult. But Mac, Caleb and Sam would have stopped him if they had known, and rightly so, since his ribs were not welcoming the punishment.

He bent over, catching his breath and letting his body have a few minutes of repose before walking down to the lake. The boat was still there, he didn’t use the oars. He allowed the water to carry him along. Trusted he would be safe. It was a still night so he wasn’t far from the shore. Dean laid back, his body adjusting and finding comfort with the gentle lapping.

He waited. She would come.

THE END
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