A/N: I wasn't really sure if I wanted to post this, basically it is kind of an experiment with an idea that has been forming over the last few days while chatting with my best friend about some stuff. Consider this a few "slice of life"-bits in the "Forsaken-AU" that popped up in my head the other day. I don't want to spoil the original idea of this and so I can't really say more than this. Read it, let me know what you think.
Once again I want to include a virtual hug for my speedy speed-beta Twinny whose sharp eyes spotted sooo many mistakes and saved you from countless violations against certain rules (I'm thinking about commas here). Thanks a LOT!
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't want them, they'd only give me a headache.
Timeline: Set somewhere in the 2nd season, definitely after "Born under a bad sign".
Dedicated to Kochan, happy now? ;)
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Taking off the mask
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"Family don't end with blood, boy."
Bobby Singer, 'No Rest for the Wicked'
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"Bobby!"
Waking up in the middle of the night to his name being called outside the house loud enough to wake the dead, wasn't exactly his idea of a restful sleep. Neither would he ever have considered stumbling out of bed and doing his best not to trip while hurrying down the stairs, a well-thought reaction to that call in their line of work. But apparently, being the emergency contact of "the boys" did rob one of some privileges. Like a decent night-sleep.
"BOBBY, HELP!!"
Dean sounded desperate, which already told him that whatever had happened must have jumped Sam or flung him all over the place or done whatever serious number one could come up with on him. Dean Winchester didn't do panic and he sure as hell wouldn't be yelling Bobby's name in the middle of the night at the top of his lungs if Sam wasn't about to meet his Maker. Pushing the alarming conclusion aside, he concentrated on waking up enough to be of use and continued down the stairs, pausing only when his hunter instincts finally joined the land of the living and had him contemplate the possibility that it could very well be a trick.
"Bobby, please, HELP!"
The hunter in him came up with at least ten different supernatural creatures who could mimic loved ones and would try and lure you out of the house to feed on you, play tricks on your senses or basically just kill you for the fun of it. The other half of him, the one which would drive across the country to pick up something they needed for one of their rituals, wanted to get out there, do what he could to help his boys and make sure they were safe. 'Dean' was closer now and as the older hunter stood at his door, listening into the darkness, he could make out the creak of the Impala's passenger door. If this was a fake, they surely went out of their way---
A soft cry of pain cut through the night and Bobby had the door open in less than a second. He knew that voice and screw caution, he was going out there, now, consequences (or him) be damned.
"Sam? Dean?"
The Impala was parked in front of his house, its motor still running, grumbling softly in the background. The door of the passenger side was open and the familiar form of Dean was leaning into the car, hovering over something as he mumbled under his breath. Bobby felt his heartbeat quicken when another pained groan drifted across his front garden and Dean slowly pulled familiar boots out of the car. All thoughts of possible imposters forgotten, the seasoned hunter broke into a jog as he approached the car, trying to get a look at what he just knew had to be Sam. Dean's body was obscuring most of him and what little he could see of the kid, was wrapped in an old, washed-out blanket but the weak, breathless sounds of pain had his stomach drop as they confirmed that the youngest Winchester had to be injured.
"What happened?"
He knew better than to interfere before Dean had acknowledged his presence. There was no need for a repetition of the Ohio incident; he had learned that lesson the hard way. So he simply watched as a pale, lax hand appeared in his view. He had to fight hard to keep his distance as it dangled limply out of the car, twitching slightly when whatever Dean was doing to him had Sam moan softly.
"'m sorry, Sammy, we have to move you, get you inside… C'mon, work with me here, bro, sit up…"
Sam groaned again, this time in protest but he didn't seem to be able to resist his brother's manhandling, and Bobby tensed when suddenly a familiar mop of dark, tousled hair appeared, framing a decidedly too-pale face. Glassy eyes scanned the car for a moment and then wandered listlessly across the frame, coming to rest on the open door before the head seemed to grow too heavy and fell back against the headrest.
"Oh gaaawd--- h'ts…"
Bobby had to lean forward to be able to hear Sam's voice at all and the pain lacing it had him wince in sympathy. He was about to ask just what had happened when Dean moved into Sam's line of sight, trying to catch his attention. "Sam, hey, Sammy, I know it hurts, hang on, okay? Gotta get you inside---"
He turned suddenly, mouth open as he yelled again, "BOBBY---Whoa!" Wide eyes came to rest on the older hunter's face and Bobby almost took a step back at the wild look in them. Before he could react or even try to read the stare, Dean had reached for where his gun would be tucked into the back of his jeans, eyes going even wider before his body finally relaxed fractionally.
"Help me, we gotta get him inside…" He turned back, leaving him to wonder just what had apparently got the better of them and how much of that the older Winchester was blaming himself for.
"Good to see you too, Dean…" he growled softly but was already moving to his side, trying to get a hold of Sam's right arm as Dean was moving the other across his shoulders. From this close he could hear Sam's wheezing breath, and he studied the pale face for a moment, taking in the tired grimace.
"What happened?"
He wasn't quite sure whom of the two he had addressed with this question and wasn't overly surprised when one of them couldn't and the other wouldn't answer him. Sam continued to blink lazily and stared groggily at him; a strained groan was everything he managed for his part as he was moved and Bobby hurried to get a hold of the limp body, not sure where he could touch without hurting him even more.
Dean sensed his reluctance and met his gaze over the dark head, eyes guarded though there was still something flashing through them, which was gone before he could read it. "Werewolf…" he ground out between clenched teeth, indicating the blanket-covered area of Sam's chest with his free hand. "It got to him before I could stop it, tore him open l-like--- I--- Bobby, it was awful…"
Dean winced and broke off, clearing his throat before he moved forward again, carefully pulling his brother's weight out of the car. Bobby was left to catch Sam's flailing arm as the younger hunter feebly tried to get a hold of something to keep himself upright.
"Easy there, son…"
The second they moved him, the kid became agitated, a low, agonized moan shuddering through his frame. He grimaced with pain, blinking repeatedly against tears as he pawed weakly at Dean's shoulder, trying without success to get away from him. It was obvious that he was barely clinging to consciousness and Bobby found himself praying to whatever entity was watching that he would just pass out to make it easier for all of them. This, of course, didn't happen since the stubborn 'idjit' of a Winchester fought tooth and nail to stay with them. He even managed to rasp a breathless, "Ssstopplease…", which had Dean flinch violently and close his eyes briefly against what Bobby suspected were tears of his own.
"Sammy, we gotta move, get you inside, okay? Come on, just a few more steps, then we get you settled…" It was as close to begging as Dean Winchester ever got, and it had the desired effect, Sam's eyes cleared a little and he rested them on his brother's face, studying it for a moment before he gave a tiny nod, wheezing in as deep a breath as he could manage.
"'kayyy…"
Dean visibly forced himself to twist his lips into a appreciative smile and stopped briefly to run a hand across Sam's sweaty brow in a rare gesture of affection, whispering softly, "That's my boy…"
Despite the pain he was in, Sam seemed to sense just how freaked out his brother really was, reminding Bobby once again how in tune his--- the boys could be (on occasion), and he watched how tired eyes flickered towards him, the hint of a teasing smile starting to pull at pale lips. "You're freaking Bobby out…"
Dean instantly pulled his hand back and threw a quick glance at him, fighting hard to keep the smile on his face. "He is not the one bleeding all over the upholstery, Sam… Come on, let's get you inside."
Sam's eyes stayed on Bobby's face, and he opened his mouth to say something but whatever it was got lost in a strained whimper when Dean carefully pulled him all the way out of the car and upright. Bobby hurried to guide Sam's other arm across his shoulders, then leaned slightly into their charge, wincing when Sam's breathing hitched and his head rolled toward him. The rest of his body was limp; he never even attempted to get his feet under him, just hung between them, doing his best to keep breathing through the pain.
"That's it, Sammy, hold on, come on, just a few steps…"
Dean kept talking, but then, he always was, especially when the kid was injured. The older hunter didn't have the time to listen to him and he doubted Sam was either; it seemed to take all his concentration to stay with them. They were moving him away from the car when the blanket slipped and then there was blood, a lot of blood, all over Sam. Bobby couldn't help but stare at Sam's chest, cringing in sympathy 'cause that had to hurt like a bitch. It looked bad, really bad, as if he had gone up against Freddy Kruger and lost, big time. There wasn't an inch on his chest that had not been slashed open or wasn't covered in blood. The smell was so overwhelming that he needed to turn his head in order to take a deep breath of fresh air.
Sam suddenly sagged heavily against the seasoned hunter, his breath hot against his ear as he groaned in pain and tried to twist away from it. Bobby turned just in time to see Dean recoil from the wounds as if he had been punched in the face. A string of curses escaped his lips when the elder Winchester almost lost his grip on Sam, which had the kid give a strange gurgle of protest. Since he was unable to catch himself, their charge fell even heavier into the supporting arms, and it became a real struggle to keep him upright.
"Dammit Dean, snap out of it!"
He couldn't tell if he had been heard. Dean didn't move; he seemed to be frozen to the spot, his eyes glued to Sam's ravaged chest. Bobby understood that the sight had to be at least twice as shocking for the older Winchester as it had been for him but if John's eldest wasn't going to get a grip on himself soon, he would be dropping the poor guy because, damn, that kid was heavy. "Dean!"
Dean's head snapped up and in return Bobby received a weird glance which had the hair on the back of his neck stand up; there was something lingering in those once familiar eyes, which was just wrong. He made a mental note to take that stubborn pighead off those shoulders to examine it closely but right now they needed to get the kid inside and the horrific wounds patched up ASAP, or he was going to bleed out on them. And that was something he'd rather not see happening, especially not on his porch.
He didn't even try to keep the annoyance out of his eyes when he glared at Dean, jerking his head towards Sam's still sagging form as he growled, "Gimme a hand with him, he ain't getting lighter, ya'know?"
Whatever had been clouding Dean's eyes, suddenly cleared, and he blinked at him before looking back at Sam. "Jeez--- Come on, Sam let's get moving…" he mumbled softly into his brother's neck before he leaned into him and reestablished his hold, carefully taking some of the limp weight off Bobby's shoulders.
They continued their slow shuffle towards the porch, stopping only once when Sam made some gagging noises at the back of his throat. Thankfully the deep breaths he managed to wheeze in seemed to settle his stomach; the older hunter wasn't really looking forward to a live-demonstration of Sam literally "puking his guts out". By the time they had reached the porch, Sam had lost what little he had managed to keep of his consciousness and was no longer groaning in pain at every jarring step. Dean was growing increasingly nervous at the lack of response but it did enable them to quicken their pace. They had Sam inside and stretched out on top of Bobby's guest bed only a few moments later.
Bobby was halfway out of the room to gather his first aid kit when a gloomy feeling froze him in his steps, a whisper at the back of his mind, which drew his gaze to the foot of the bed where Dean was standing rigidly, eyes fixed on the mess that was Sam's chest. Something about his posture was off; again, his eyes were just wrong, and the way he was not getting to his brother's side to fuzz about him like he would usually do, was starting to make all kinds of alarm bells ring inside the hunter's head. This wasn't guilt; this wasn't Dean beating himself up because he let something happen to his brother or because he wasn't fast enough or whatever; this was something completely different. More serious.
Dangerous.
He didn't miss a beat as he turned and walked back toward the bed, keeping an eye on the still figure at the foot of the bed. Whatever this was about, there were certain basics he could cover to solve 'this'; and the first step of his course of action had to be separation. He needed to get Sam out of the line of whatever; the kid was in no condition to do anything. He sat down on the bed next to Sam's hip and leaned over his chest, reaching across him to pull one of his limp hands into his lap to check his pulse. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Dean attentively as he slowly put himself into Dean's line of sight, blocking Sam from him, to watch his reaction.
Which certainly was a lot less violent than he would have expected, because Dean didn't even blink.
"Dean, get me the kit and a few towels from the kitchen, would 'ya?"
Dean didn't move.
But Sam did. A hoarse groan had both their heads turn toward the injured man, and they watched as he slowly blinked tired eyes open and let them wander lazily across the room. When they met Dean's still form, Sam stared hard at him for a long moment before his brows finally formed into the ghost of a frown. "D'n? Wha' hpnd?"
Dean didn't answer but continued to stare, and Sam's frown became more pronounced, soon joined by a puzzled expression when his eyes followed Dean's gaze and looked at his chest in confusion. "Wha' hapd?" he asked again, fighting hard against heavy lids, and Bobby took that as a cue to lean into his line of sight, regarding the weak man with a questioning look.
"You tell me, son…"
Sam had some trouble focusing on his face but a small smile crept onto his lips when he finally recognized him. "Hey Bobby…"
"Sam, how are you feeling?" He kept his tone deliberately light but dammit, even with his brain working at barely a quarter of its usual capacity, the kid looked right through him, read the hidden worry in his eyes correctly. Before he could move to block his brother from his view, Sam's eyes sought out his brother's face, scanning it for a moment before they suddenly grew incredibly huge and Sam froze.
"Oh my god…"
Bobby watched in confusion how the rest of Sam's color fled his face and he turned large, frightened? eyes on him. The younger man's voice was barely audible, stumbling over the words as he rasped quietly, "Bobby, we need to talk."
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