The Daughter's Mistake

Chapter 7

"Come help me," Dean says. I stare at him in horror, I can't believe that he would knock out his brother. "Are you deaf?! Come help me!" he shouts. I snap out of my daze and slowly walk towards him.

We carry him back to the Impala and drive back to the motel with him laying in the back seat. "You head inside, I've got this. You should start calling Cas or something," Dean tells me. I nod my head and start for the door. I step inside and the first thing I do, instead of calling Castiel, is take a swig out of the bottle of whiskey we have in our room.

I let out a sigh, "Cas," I call out, "Dean and I need your help. It's about Sam. Dean beat him up pretty bad, and we need to find out what's wrong with him. So, can you get down here, like, ASAP?" I finish and take another swig out of the bottle. Unfortunately, Dean catches me during my third drink. He throws Sam on the bed and takes the bottle from me.

"You don't need this," he says.

"Well, for your information, I do. I need something," I reply.

"You can't drink away your problems and your stress, Olivia!" he yells.

"It's not like you haven't done it or anything because you're just the perfect little Ken doll with Barbie and your little son waiting for you at home," I say. He stares at the ground and he walks to the bathroom to wash the blood off of his knuckles after beating Sam. He comes back out and grabs a chair.

"Get the ropes from my bag," he instructs me. I follow his orders and hand them to Dean, he ties Sam's hands behind his back while he sits up in the chair, still unconscious. "Did you call Cas?"

I nod, "Obviously I haven't gotten an answer."

"Cas! Get down here! Now!" he shouts. I walk to the bathroom, I look in the mirror, and I find that I have cuts and bruises all over my face. I run some water and wash off my face, now the cuts don't look as bad but the bruises are still pretty gruesome. I come back out to see Dean sitting on the bed and Castiel standing in front of Sam who is starting to wake up.

"You're right. He looks terrible," Castiel says. Sam starts to fidget and groan as Castiel pokes and prods him. Castiel faces Dean, "You did this?" he asks.

"Cas?" Sam croaks. Castiel turns back around to face Sam and pokes and prods some more. "Let me go," Sam says, noticing the ropes that tie his hands.

"Has he been feverish?" Castiel asks.

"Well, have you?" Dean asks.

"No. Why?" Sam replies.

"Is he speaking in tongues?" Castiel asks then he faces Sam, "Are you speaking in tongues?"

"No," Sam replies acting as if Castiel is out of his mind, "What are you...are you diagnosing me?"

"Well, let's hope he can," Dean says.

"You really think that this is--" Sam starts.

"What? You think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of Hell wrong? He asks, you answer! Then you shut your hole. You got that?" Dean interrupts. He gets up from the bed and stands near Castiel. During Dean's rant, I watch Castiel as he holds his fingers to Sam's neck, checking his pulse or something like that.

"How much do you sleep?" Castiel asks.

"I don't," Sam replies.

"At all?" Dean asks.

"No. Not since I got back," Sam replies. Dean turns to face me and I can see the fury in his eyes.

"You've been spending the most time with him, haven't you? You didn't think to, I don't know, put some sleeping pills in his beer or tell me that he wasn't sleeping?!" he yells. He sighs and looks back to Sam, "Did it ever occur to you that there was something off about that?!"