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It was a while since the last time Bobby heard the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard, the almost manic, mechanized pounding that served as the soundtrack most mornings in the last few weeks. Looking up from the book in front of him, Bobby focused his attention on the man sitting at the table by the window.
The past couple of weeks, Bobby and Dean had done a pretty good job acting like it was 'business as usual', as if nothing out of the ordinary, nothing like letting Lucifer out, had happened. Bobby had to give Sam credit, the boy gave it all while pretending he was alright. But knowing the youngest Winchester as well as he did, Bobby could tell that was a struggle every second. And while Sam didn't say it and his facial expression didn't give anything away, his eyes told a whole other story. There was so much pain and guild reflected there that most of the time Bobby couldn't stand to look at him.
Seeing him now, lost in his own head as he stared out the window, Bobby sensed the worst case of déjà vu from the eerie quiet. Just like when Dean died. The thought sent shivers down the old hunter's spine.
"Sam," Bobby called as he got up from his desk and crossed the room. There was no response. As he neared the table Sam was sitting at, Bobby followed Sam's gaze out the window. Dean was outside, digging into the Impala's engine from the looks of it.
Bobby lightly touched Sam's shoulder and called his name again. He considered himself lucky that he didn't end up with a broken nose, because Sam nearly jumped out of his skin.
"You ok?" Bobby asked as he watched Sam trying to collect himself.
Sam just nodded, turning his attention back to the computer screen that now displayed the screen saver. Sam hit the space bar and the screen flicked back to some web site Sam must have been reading earlier.
"Anything?" Bobby asked, reading the title of the article.
Sam shook his head in response. "Nothing," he said. "No demonic activity at all."
Bobby wished they could take this as good news. But he knew better. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Sam let out a loud sigh, then turned to look out the window again before he responded. "Yeah. They're getting ready. "
For war, Bobby added in his head. This was just a short reprieve.
Silence once again stretched between them.
"You should have pulled the trigger."
He said it so quietly that at first Bobby thought he imagined it. But as he watched Sam scoot from his seat and almost run out of the house, Bobby he knew that the youngest Winchester did say it out loud. And he knew that Sam meant it.
"What did I miss?" Dean's voice brought Bobby out of his thoughts. He must have walked into the house just as Sam ran out.
Bobby turned to look out the window. Sam didn't go far, seeking refuge in between rows of old cars outside the house. Instead of answering Dean's question, Bobby simply said, "I'll go talk to him." He knew Dean needed more than that, knew how worried Dean was about his baby brother, but at this moment Bobby's main concern was Sam.
He found Sam sitting on the ground, leaning against one of the rusted piles of metal that couldn't even be called a car anymore.
Looking at him now, broken, destroyed by everything that had happened, Bobby could still see the little kid he met when John first brought the boys over - the one with shaggy hair, wearing Dean's t-shirt that was four sizes too big and ripped faded jeans, hugging a book to his chest. Bobby had no clue how to talk to the kid then and now, looking at the man sitting before him, he once again found himself at a loss for words.
"So, I got the warm fuzzy pep talk and then there's the 'get your butt in gear and stop whining' talk. Which one would you like?" He finally said.
"How about neither?" Sam responded without looking up.
Bobby nodded. He expected as much. Sam wasn't much for talking, not for a long time now, not since he lost Dean to the hellhounds. But if Sam thought that Bobby would turn around and leave him alone, he was greatly mistaken. Instead, Bobby walked over and sat down next to Sam, letting out a grunt as his bones creaked at the movement. But Bobby didn't complain. In their line of work, getting to the age where you hurt - not from injuries but age - was a luxury. And he was damn set on making sure that the Winchester boys got to enjoy the same luxury.
"Look, I'm not going to sit here and pretend that everything is just peachy. We both know it ain't," he began. "But that's what we're trying to fix here."
Sam shook his head. "Fix?" he sounded incredulous. "You really think we can fix this?"
Bobby wondered if a well-meaning lie was warranted at that moment, but Sam would see right through it. Right through him. "We can try," he replied instead. And that was the truth. That was all they could really do. That was all they had ever done. Try. "Look, you boys got a hard lesson at who you can trust," he added. "And it ain't demons. And it sure as hell ain't angels either."
Sam didn't respond for a long time, staring straight ahead at the other piece of corroded metal in front of him. "People are going to die because of me," he finally said. There was so much pain in Sam's voice, it cut through Bobby like a knife. "A lot of people. Because of what I did. Because of what I am. How do I live with that?" With that question, Sam finally looked up to meet Bobby's eyes.
Bobby tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat as his eyes met Sam's, as he saw the self-hate, the guilt, the complete desperation the boy felt. "You do what you always done," the older hunter responded with a shaky voice. "You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and do your job. Keep fighting. Keep saving those people, one person at the time." As Sam looked away, Bobby continued, "Or you can just give up, lay down here and die."
It seemed as if the time stood still, waiting for Sam to decide on which option to choose. Bobby's heart pounded in his ears in fear that this kid sitting next to him, hugging his knees, would choose to give up. Because if he did, Bobby knew there would be no saving him from himself.
Bobby looked back toward the house. He wasn't surprised to see Dean standing guard, his eyes focused on Sam, ready to fling into action if needed, ready to do whatever was necessary to keep Sam safe. If Sam wasn't going to fight for himself, Dean would do it for him.
Turning his attention to the youngestWinchester, Bobby said, "I can tell you one thing, that brother of yours, he ain't gonna let you give up that easy." Pushing himself up and ignoring his knees protesting such rough treatment, Bobby stood. "So, what's it gonna be?"
Sam looked up toward the house where Dean stood still. Right this very second, Bobby wished he could read minds. What he wouldn't give to know what was going through Sam's mind? But Bobby didn't have to wait much longer. Sam stood up quickly and took a step toward him. He nodded his head slightly and without another word headed back toward the house while Bobby remained.
As the distance between them increased, Bobby fought the rising feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach - not the fear of what was coming as demons and angels started a full blown war on Earth. The almost paralyzing fear he felt was for the young man walking away from him. Because Bobby suddenly realized what option Sam had chosen.