Day 42: Bus 1 [EVENING]
[Forcefully escorted from here by an orderly/nurse team]
That was the one good thing about pretending to be a drunk - they thought you were already intoxicated and if there was anything they probably learned in med school, it was that it was a bad thing to be mixing alcohol with medication. Probably the one thing that saved him from getting his ass sedated and dragged to a bus whether he wanted to or not: the next best thing they could do was manhandle him there, one orderly's bruising grip around his arm to, he guessed, keep him upright, the other forcefully on his shoulder as they hustled him out of that grocery store and through town to the buses. Despite how much he swayed, staggered, and generally tried to slow this down, he saw no sight of Sam. The kid was good.
Sooner rather than later, Dean found himself being deposited in one of the bus's seats, and he remembered to slouch over on it, slumping a little as if it was hard to keep awake and watching from half-closed eyes as the orderly walked away, waving away the stench of the cheap beer wafting from Dean's sodden clothes and heading up to the front of the bus. Dean didn't straighten immediately, letting his head loll on his shoulder as he glanced out the window - it was getting dark, usually when the monsters in the closet began to come crawling out. Dean knew they were in a bad place, in a bad way, but without an arsenal at their disposal, Sammy and him were not much different than the civilians out there: they'd all taste the same to the monsters.
That was the one good thing about pretending to be a drunk - they thought you were already intoxicated and if there was anything they probably learned in med school, it was that it was a bad thing to be mixing alcohol with medication. Probably the one thing that saved him from getting his ass sedated and dragged to a bus whether he wanted to or not: the next best thing they could do was manhandle him there, one orderly's bruising grip around his arm to, he guessed, keep him upright, the other forcefully on his shoulder as they hustled him out of that grocery store and through town to the buses. Despite how much he swayed, staggered, and generally tried to slow this down, he saw no sight of Sam. The kid was good.
Sooner rather than later, Dean found himself being deposited in one of the bus's seats, and he remembered to slouch over on it, slumping a little as if it was hard to keep awake and watching from half-closed eyes as the orderly walked away, waving away the stench of the cheap beer wafting from Dean's sodden clothes and heading up to the front of the bus. Dean didn't straighten immediately, letting his head loll on his shoulder as he glanced out the window - it was getting dark, usually when the monsters in the closet began to come crawling out. Dean knew they were in a bad place, in a bad way, but without an arsenal at their disposal, Sammy and him were not much different than the civilians out there: they'd all taste the same to the monsters.