The First Hours
I decided to rewrite this story . a lot of it is the same and some ifs different. It is AU where Dean doesn't' sell his soul. Love to know your thoughts. Reviews get a balloon color of your choice
Dean's POV
He was dead. Sammy was gone. I knew that in my heart…God I knew it…but I couldn't believe it. I failed…I fucking failed…
Bobby's POV
I saw him fall as I took off after the kid that stabbed him. I know he was dead before he hit the ground. It made me run harder and faster. Now, I see the one he left behind. How can one half survive without the other?
The road back to the cabin was a long one. Dean's hands gripped the wheel tightly, every so often glancing back to check on Sam.
"He OK back there Bobby?"
Bobby stifled a sob afraid to meet the young man's eyes. I keep my eyes cast downward to hide my tears at Dean's denial, my shame for not being faster and getting that son of a bitch….damn old man…
With a quick glance fearing to look at the dead, Bobby replied. "He's fine, Dean." He would repeat it every few minutes all the while thinking. It seemed to calm him, but what was my reassurance doing to his mind?
Bobby let out the breath he had been holding for Dean and kept one eye on the fallen man in the back seat. Sam's deathly pallor was frightening to look at but even more so was Dean's reaction to his brother's demise. Bobby understood shock and this was getting deeper and deeper by the moment.
Bobby turned to face the young hunter with a worried frown. Dean felt his eyes on him and struggled to maintain his composure. His hands continued to grip the wheel, sweat pouring over it making it slippery. His throat felt dry and his heart empty. Dean rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, before wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. God help me. He'll be OK…He's Sammy…He will be fine…Bobby can patch him up. Bobby will patch him up….
Dean's eyes met Bobby's in a fevered plea. Please…Bobby….please…
It took all of Bobby's efforts not to break down then and there.
When their destination could finally be seen, Dean turned into the gravel road and parked. His eyes burned and his legs felt weak as he exited the car to grab Sammy from the back, speaking to him the whole time in a calm tone.
"It's gonna be OK, man. Just a scratch. Bobby'll take care of you, right Bobby?"
Bobby's gaze revealed nothing. He believes what he is saying…
"Sure," he shrugged. I continue to bury the truth.
Bobby turned to Dean hating himself for the words he was about to say. . Dean's green eyes lit for a moment. The boy's eyes met mine. He trusts me. He needs me to save him…to save his brother…
"Dean…I'm…"
Dean's eyes narrowed at the insinuation as he carried Sam into the room and gently laid him on the bed. He ran his hand over his brother's forehead brushing the hair out of his eyes.
"Sammy…"
My heart is breaking. I think I died with you….died….no…not yet….
"Bobby, where's your first aid kit?"
Bobby's eyes looked directly into Dean's this time not masking the pain nor hiding the tears they held. He needs to see the truth. He is blinded with grief… dying in his own mind…
"I'm sorry, Dean."
Dean's features fell as his fists clenched tightly. No, don't do this to me Bobby please…I need you now….God help me…
"Fine! I'll do it myself." Bobby watched the young man tear apart the room as it tore his heart apart. Tattered sheets and bottles left half filled in this new hell lay strewed about the wooden floors. Dean continued to scour the floor among the broken glass and splinters for refuge and something in which to help Sam…his Sam. He didn't even notice the blood falling thickly down his arms or staining his worn jeans. All he knew was that he had to find it …something…anything…to show that there was still hope. Dean inwardly damned Bobby for his indifferent attitude to Sam's condition. The more the wound festered the less Dean could handle it on his own. He was about to break.
Just when he was about to pound his fists to the heavens in hate and abandonment, he found what he needed. He attempted a smile but knew there was no time for joy yet. He needed to save Sam. The window was closing…
Dean glared at Bobby. He does nothing. He has given up.
Bobby took the glares, the curses and the hate and bottled it up. He would gladly be Dean's punching bag if he needed him to be. He was old. He had seen too much…too damn much. This boy had seen far worse. One loss to him meant everything.
Dean sat on the bed and carefully moved Sam to a sitting position. My God, he's so cold….
"I'll be real gentle, bro. Real gentle…" his voice dropped to a whisper. I promise.
Dean lifted up Sam's shirt and he caught his breath. Too much blood. What the hell….
For a moment he froze. One hand buried in Sam's wound and the other holding a needle and thread. Dean's eyes twitched as he blinked back tears.
"No."
Bobby could barely hear him. I am about to lose both of them.
Dean laid Sam back down and slid a few feet on the bed falling to the floor. His whole body trembled as he ran a hand over his face. Bobby had never seen Dean this distraught in a long time. First with his mom and then his father, but even this…this was far worse…
Bobby kept his gaze intent on Dean. He knows….God I wish he didn't.
Dean's features twitched ever so subtlety, allowing Bobby to see the wall shattering. Bobby crouched down and laid a gentle hand on the man's trembling shoulder struggling to relax. Dean took no interest in the older man. It was as if Dean didn't' feel Bobby, didn't sense him at all. Bobby gripped tighter onto his shoulder. Maybe he doesn't realize I am here.
After some time, Dean slid his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Bobby shook in rhythm with Dean's movements. God I wish I could take his pain away. Do anything… Suddenly, Dean's green eyes met Bobby's glistening with unshed tears and burning questions. What am I suppose to do?
Bobby had no answer to the young man's thoughts. There are no answers.
Dean's breathing hitched and his face grew pale.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Tumbled out of his mouth in a whisper as he darted toward the bathroom. Bobby's heart sank as he heard the retching from the thin doors separating him from the world of the living and the world of the dead. Bobby sighed as he sat down on the opposite bed to Sam. What am I supposed to do?
Dean continued to dry heave while clutching the toilet and losing himself between sobs. Damn you Winchester for being weak. You screwed up. I am ashamed of you. It should have been you. Whose words they were Dean was no longer sure, but they had become his mantra. The one he lived by and the way he feared to tread.
The retching finally stopped abruptly leaving Bobby to hear only what was left of ragged breathing and quiet words meant for Dean's ears only.
"It should have been me."
Before Bobby could move to protest, the sharp sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the room. Bobby dashed to the door banging on it repeatedly.
"Dean!" He shouted. No answer.
Bobby forcibly opened the door only to see Dean running his hand over a fresh set of bleeding knuckles.
Every inch of the boy was covered in blood now from his brother's to his own oozing its way onto the floor beneath in a puddle. A silent gulp and shuffling feet brought Bobby inches closer to the man on his knees.
"Dean?" Bobby knew he sound frantic….passive…terrified…
"Go away Bobby." Dean's words were empty, trained and practiced. He didn't want to be alone but couldn't be around anyone. He was about to shatter like the glass at his feet.
"No" Bobby shook his head. No matter what the consequence I'm not leaving you to your death by your hand or another's
Dean's red rimmed eyes were lifeless as he met Bobby's eyes. Tears fell from the older man's eyes. Both looked at each other finally accepting the worst.
Dean's head fell trying to hide between his bloody hands.
"Here, let me help you with that." Bobby knelt down doing his best to avoid the broken glass all around him. Broken…nothing in this room is whole…
Dean flinched pulling his hand away from the contact with a quick shake of his headDean's mind was filled with reasons. I deserve this don't you see, Bobby? He was my purpose. I am nothing.
Bobby seemed to understand and stood up moving away from the young hunter. He didn't' agree with Dean's line of thought but knew he couldn't stop him now.
"You have ten minutes and then I do what I have to do."
Dean hadn't the strength to argue as Bobby walked away and lay down for a moment in the bed across from the lifeless body of Sam Winchester. Only one remains…but for how long?
Bobby didn't know how long he had been out but it was longer than 10 minutes.
Bobby inwardly cursed himself and his fatigue as he eagerly sat up to go search for Dean. As his feet swung over the edge of the bed he found himself nudging something or someone soft. He focused his eyes to see a shivering Dean Winchester in a fetal position doing anything possible to be close to his brother's deceased form. Bobby slipped off the bed and walked around to view the boy's condition. His knuckles were still pretty bad. His jeans were stained with blood and his face sunken in. Bobby sighed and went to clean him up.
Bobby did his best to be gentle as well as not wake the young man up. Dean stirred in his sleep muttering Sammy's name and the words why over and over again. After he was done, Bobby pulled Dean to a sitting position in an effort to move him to the bed. Dean groggily opened his eyes.
"Dad?"
Bobby was thrown. He swallowed hard complying with the boy's request.
"Yeah, Dean, it's me." Bobby thought thinking that John was there might help. How wrong I was…
Dean's face relaxed for a fraction before his words tumbled out. "Sammy's hurt, Dad. I tried to protect him…but I…I screwed up…" Bobby flinched. He sounds so young.
"It's not your fault, Dean. There was nothing you could do."
Dean seemed to find little comfort in his "father's" words.
"I'm so sorry, Dad….do you hate me?"
Bobby frowned. Maybe Dean didn't understand his words.
"No, Dean. I said it wasn't your fault."
At the word fault Dean instinctively raised his arm over his head to block an imagined forthcoming blow.
"Please, Dad, I'm sorry…please, don't….I'm sorry…"
He keeps saying it over and over again. Bobby bites back his anger at Dean's reaction which confirmed his long time suspicions about the boy's father and Dean. John you bastard… they were your boys not your soldiers….Bobby wished he could have been there to protect the boys from their upbringing but it was no use trying to go back. Fate dealt them an awful hand the hand was only going to get worse.
"No, it's OK." Bobby lightly touched Dean's arms trying to push them back down. Dean resisted at first fearing the "hits" would become unbearable but fearing the words that seemed to echo in his dream even worse. Bobby decided that his words were meaningless to Dean who was trapped somewhere in the past. If I move him and let him sleep maybe …maybe…
When Dean began to ease up fighting Bobby, was he then moved with effort mostly on Bobby's part to the bed. Bobby wiped his brow and looked at the man before him. One who looked for love any love in the wrong places be it a woman or a bottle and the other Bobby turned to Sam, found it and watched it torn from his grasp.
Bobby sighed as he sat at the wooden table near the window. His age catching up to him. Too much responsibility for me now. Not suppose to be this way. .
The sun would be up soon, hopefully, desperately hoping for a better day.
If you think I should leave it this way or add an AU if Dean didn't sell his soul, let me know. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading!!! Hope you like the rewrite for anyone reading a second time!
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