I was inside looking outside
The millions of faces
But still I'm alone
Waiting, hours of waiting
Paying a penance
I was longing for home
I'm looking out for the two of us
I hope we'll be here when they're through with us.
(Lyrics from "Long, Long Way From Home" - Foreigner)
—————————— Rhydin General Hospital A few days after Dean's return to Rhydin...
"I don't know what you're worried about, son, but I'm telling you, there's nothing wrong with you. You're as healthy as a horse."
Most people would probably be overjoyed to hear such good news from a medical professional, but not me. Answers only led to more questions, more weirdness. "What about my ribs?" I asked. "Did you check my ribs?" If they didn't find anything out of the ordinary there, something was definitely wrong.
The doctor frowned, his already wrinkled forehead creasing further. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't think of who. Some TV doctor I'd seen on late night re-runs maybe. He opened a folder marked "Dean Springsteen" and flipped through a few pages. "There's nothing wrong with your ribs. Nothing cracked or broken. No signs of old injuries either. Are you experiencing pain?" he asked as he flipped the folder closed and looked at me with an almost fatherly expression of concern.
I shook my head, more in disbelief than in answer to his question. There had to be some mistake. I'd cracked and broken ribs more times than I could count. And what about the sigils Cas had somehow carved there" I'd never understood how he'd done it, but we'd seen the x-rays to prove it. What had happened to those" "Nothing" Are you sure?"
"You're free to get a second opinion, but I'd stake my reputation on it. As far as I can tell, you've never broken a single bone in your body."
How could that be? Nothing was making any sense. It was like the day I'd dug myself out of the grave. No marks, no scars, no old wounds, nothing. Even the scar on my shoulder was gone — the hand print that had been burned into my flesh when Cas had pulled me out of hell. The only mark that remained was the matching tattoo Sam and I had gotten to protect us against possession. That was after Meg had ridden around in Sam's body for a while. After that, we didn't want to take any more chances. Bobby had given us charms, but we figured tattoos were safer. You couldn't lose a tattoo, like you could a charm.
I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder and blinked out of my thoughts to find the old doctor smiling and trying to look reassuring. He suddenly reminded me of Bobby, and I felt a stab of pain in my chest, knowing I might never see him again.
"I'm telling you, Dean, there's nothing wrong with you. Your cholesterol is good, your blood pressure is good. I can't find a damned thing wrong with you, so unless you get hit by a car or something, chances are good you can look forward to a long, healthy life."
Yeah, right, I thought. If I can stay one step ahead of the demons long enough to enjoy it.
I thanked the doc, got dressed, and left before he got suspicious. He'd already told me what I needed to know. The rest I'd have to find out on my own.
(Lyrics from "Long, Long Way From Home" - Foreigner)
—————————— Rhydin General Hospital A few days after Dean's return to Rhydin...
"I don't know what you're worried about, son, but I'm telling you, there's nothing wrong with you. You're as healthy as a horse."
Most people would probably be overjoyed to hear such good news from a medical professional, but not me. Answers only led to more questions, more weirdness. "What about my ribs?" I asked. "Did you check my ribs?" If they didn't find anything out of the ordinary there, something was definitely wrong.
The doctor frowned, his already wrinkled forehead creasing further. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't think of who. Some TV doctor I'd seen on late night re-runs maybe. He opened a folder marked "Dean Springsteen" and flipped through a few pages. "There's nothing wrong with your ribs. Nothing cracked or broken. No signs of old injuries either. Are you experiencing pain?" he asked as he flipped the folder closed and looked at me with an almost fatherly expression of concern.
I shook my head, more in disbelief than in answer to his question. There had to be some mistake. I'd cracked and broken ribs more times than I could count. And what about the sigils Cas had somehow carved there" I'd never understood how he'd done it, but we'd seen the x-rays to prove it. What had happened to those" "Nothing" Are you sure?"
"You're free to get a second opinion, but I'd stake my reputation on it. As far as I can tell, you've never broken a single bone in your body."
How could that be? Nothing was making any sense. It was like the day I'd dug myself out of the grave. No marks, no scars, no old wounds, nothing. Even the scar on my shoulder was gone — the hand print that had been burned into my flesh when Cas had pulled me out of hell. The only mark that remained was the matching tattoo Sam and I had gotten to protect us against possession. That was after Meg had ridden around in Sam's body for a while. After that, we didn't want to take any more chances. Bobby had given us charms, but we figured tattoos were safer. You couldn't lose a tattoo, like you could a charm.
I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder and blinked out of my thoughts to find the old doctor smiling and trying to look reassuring. He suddenly reminded me of Bobby, and I felt a stab of pain in my chest, knowing I might never see him again.
"I'm telling you, Dean, there's nothing wrong with you. Your cholesterol is good, your blood pressure is good. I can't find a damned thing wrong with you, so unless you get hit by a car or something, chances are good you can look forward to a long, healthy life."
Yeah, right, I thought. If I can stay one step ahead of the demons long enough to enjoy it.
I thanked the doc, got dressed, and left before he got suspicious. He'd already told me what I needed to know. The rest I'd have to find out on my own.