Thunder crashed outside in the dark night as Bobby placed another bucket under a leak in his roof. Straightening up his old joints clicked in the cold weather. Rolling his shoulders, he went over to poor himself some whiskey.
Standing by the window brooding, he thought about John and Dean hunting a pack of Werewolves. He hoped that they were at least under some sort of shelter in this weather. It was times like this when he wished they still had Sam to help them out. Killing an entire Wolf pack was no easy feat, even if there were just a few of them. And for one reason or another Bobby had a bad feeling about tonight.
Just when Bobby was getting ready to turn in for the night, he was interrupted by knocking at the door. He paused in his tracks his heart in his throat, he'd been expecting them a lot earlier and had just figured that the two of them had crashed somewhere else for the night and would arrive in the morning.
The repeated knocking at the door pulled him from his thoughts and he quickly rushed over to the door, with no care who was on the other side.
It only took Bobby a millisecond to see Dean outside and pull him into the house. The poor boy was shivering in his soaked wet clothes.
'Where's dad? Is he back yet?' Dean rushes, the words shaking as he shivers. 'Nah, haven't seen 'm' Bobby states, holding the boy up as he breathes heavily. 'What happened? You lose 'm?'
'We had to split up' Dean panted, 'the pack, it overpowered us.' He was cut short by chesty coughs which rattled out of his lungs. Bobby's eyes went wide as he realised the boy was very ill.
Initially he'd failed to realise the pallor of his skin and flush to his cheeks in the little light that he could see by. Now in the light of the house he could make out shinning grey lines under his eyes and redness to his nose, which was not only brought on by the freezing outdoors.
While Dean's chest still convulsed, Bobby noticed the piece of scrap of fabric he held to his mouth as he tried to muffle his coughs. He must have been doing that all night, Bobby thought as he tried to gather his mind. 'Thought he might've got here before me' Dean sniffled bringing the cloth up to his nose after he'd finished coughing.
Bobby shook his head in silence. 'Don't worry Bobby. I wasn't followed, I made sure of it' Dean assured thinking that Bobby was worried about the danger he could have put him in. 'Don't be silly, boy. I don't care about that' Bobby dismissed immediately, still watching the way Dean shivered as he stood. 'Go take a shower and get changed into dry clothes' he commanded pushing Dean up towards the stairs.
While Dean showered Bobby tried calling John, but it only rung until it hit answer phone. He sighed and shook his head, he'd have some words to that man when he got back. In the mean time he pretended that he couldn't hear the muffled coughs coming from the bathroom.
Bobby was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Turning around he saw Dean, thankfully dry, in a new set of clothes with his hands pulled into the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
As he walked into the living area Bobby caught up to him and lead him over to the couch. 'You hurt, son?' he asked as he sat down on a chair across from him. 'Just a few bruises and scratches' Dean answered simply. 'Anything else?' Bobby asked, his concern growing for the young man. 'Just tired' Dean sighed with his eyelids growing heavier by the minute.
'How long have you been sick?' Dean looked back up at Bobby's words and shrugged, 'bout a week.' 'Your dad know?' Bobby inquired. 'You know how dad is' Dean spoke before clearing his throat loudly into his fist. 'He'll know but he doesn't care.'
Bobby nodded in understanding. The unfortunate thing about being unwell as John's kid was that he either didn't notice because he was too wrapped up in himself, or he dismissed it quickly as a weakness and made you pull through without a thought of sympathy. The only solace was if Sam got sick Dean would look after him hand and foot, like his father should have, until he could pull through. But for Dean… well he was just screwed.
'When was the last time you saw him?' Bobby askes changing the subject. 'About a hundred metres out from the base of the pack, just as we separated into the forest' Dean recalled, pulling himself up straighter on the couch. 'You know what way he was going?' Bobby checks intently, watching as the boy stares at a spot on the floor, not moving. He starts to get confused as he watches Dean's eyelids flutter and hears his breathing get shakier. 'Dean?' Bobby asks after a few seconds of him not answering.
At this Dean brings his hand up and motions for him to wait a second before turning away from him. 'Huh-KESTCHHhuh, Heh-PSCHHTTchew…Urrghh' Dean sneezes into his piece of fabric, turning back sniffling before putting it back in his pocket.
'Bless you, son' Bobby condemns, to which Dean gives a slight nod of his head in thanks. 'I don' know which way he was going' Dean continues the conversation, 'just thought he'd be back by now.'
'I'm sure he'll get here soon' Bobby reassures him, 'in the mean time why don't you crash here on the couch and try get some sleep.' Dean didn't need to be told twice and snuggled down on the couch as Bobby went and got a blanket to lay over top of him.
In the last few hours Bobby paced the floor of the kitchen so much that he was surprised that he hadn't worn out footprints in the floor boards. He'd tried calling John a second time, but he hadn't picked up again. He was forced to listen to Dean coughing miserably in his sleep and was sure that the poor boy had woken himself up a few times. All was shaping up to be a sleepless night for him.
Growing tired Bobby went a took a seat in the lounge across from Dean. He was about to close his eyes and drift off to sleep when he noticed the droplets of sweat covering Dean's forehead. Quietly etching out of his seat he sank down on knees in front of Dean. Drawing up his hand he placed his palm on the kid's burning forehead, registering the heat before his hand even touched his skin.
At the sudden cold touch Dean startled awake, opening his eyes and starting to sit up in a panic. 'It's okay, boy. Just me' Bobby quickly calmed him down, moving his hand to the base of his neck only to find that burning as well. 'Cook'n your brain there, son' Bobby commented as Dean settled back down on the couch. Too tired to respond he lay his head back down and closed his eyes. 'Back in a sec' Bobby said mostly to himself as he stood up to go fetch some water and a washcloth.
When he returned he knelt back down next to Dean and dipped the cloth in the water before wringing it back out. Dean flinched at the sudden cold but didn't open his eyes as Bobby placed the cloth onto his head. He felt the cloth heat up almost instantly after placing it on his fevered skin. This was going to be a long night.
Dawn was just about to break when Dean began to stir from noises in the kitchen. He could vaguely hear voices, but everything sounded like it was underwater. It wasn't until he heard an all to familiar voice that he began to wake up a little more. 'I don't know what you would have expected me to do! Leave the pack alone until he's ready?' John's voice sounded from in the kitchen.
'Of course, that's what I expect! He's your son, John' Bobby's anger radiated in his tone. 'Yes, he is my son and I made the call!' John retaliated matching his manner.
'Your bloody lucky that that boy is as strong as he is, or he could have been killed tonight' Bobby pointed out in vain, 'he's weak and sicker than a dog, probably has been for some time and you left him to find his own way back!'
'It was the only way' John tried to defend. 'He's your family John, try to find another way!' Bobby growled back refusing to accept anything John was saying. Dean had seen Bobby angry many times, but never like this.
Bobby sighed deeply and closed his eyes in frustration, letting his hands unclench from fists. 'I know you're desperate John' Bobby said in a much calmer tone, knowing that John's revenge mission was something to be treaded on lightly. 'But throwing your son around like that wouldn't be what Mary would have wanted.'
He didn't have time to open his eyes before John turned on his heel and slammed the front door shut. Bobby sighed as he watched John's shadow make its way back to the car through the window, 'he's just a kid.'
