A/N Okay this little plot bunny hopped around in my head after I watched Episode 4.20 The Rapture a second time. (The first time I was a little tired from pain meds and surgery so I didn't really the get the full enjoyment of the show.) So this is just a little one-shot (My first one-shot) that came to my head. So yeah If you haven't seen this episode you may not want to read this, although it doesn't go into it in depth. But may be considered a bit spoilery or not. So I hope you all enjoy.

Graceful Manipulation

The night air hung heavy around the old hunter and he struggled to draw a breath through the humid mass. His hand gripped the railing, his knuckles whitening in his desperate hold. No light spilled to the earth's surface from the cloud-covered moon, the stars hung dully in the pre-dawn sky. The only sound in the oppressive night was the steady nervous tap of Bobby's work boot on the sun-bleached step. Even the insects, sensing something in the air, remained silent.

Bobby heard the familiar growl of the classic Chevy as it roared to life and his heart cracked. Rubbing a hand over his tired features, the grizzled hunter watched the Impala carry the lone Winchester to the edge of the gravel drive. As the V-8 engine opened up, the rear tires kicked up a cloud of dust and screeched out onto the asphalt. Bobby stared after the roaring beast until the taillights faded from view.

The elder hunter dropped his burly frame to the steps and thought about the boys. His expertly built walls crumbled and floodgates opened. Bobby Singer hung his head and sobbed.

Several Hours Earlier - Dusk.

"Dean, it's the only way," Sam shouted in exasperation. Talking to his brother was all but impossible lately, but since Dean had learned his secret, any and every conversation ended in a shouting match.

"The hell it is, Sam," Dean shot back, his green eyes flashing angrily.

"Really?" the younger hunter snapped haughtily. "So what, you got a plan?"

"Yeah," Dean growled. "You're gonna stay put 'til we get this figured out."

"Nice plan," Sam snorted. "We'll just sit here nice and snug at Bobby's 'til Lillith comes and rips us all to shreds."

"Sam," the elder Winchester snarled warningly.

"What? You have no idea how to stop Lillith. I'm telling you, this is it."

"Damnit, Sam," Dean shouted, stalking towards his brother. "You were drinking blood. Demon blood. Doesn't that bother you at least a little?"

Sam raked a hand through his shaggy hair, regarding his brother contemptuously. "Yes, it bothers me. But we have no choice. It's the only way I can get strong enough to take out Lillith."

"No, we're not doing it that way. And that's final." Dean turned away, staring out the grime-encrusted window.

"You can't tell me what to do!" the younger man roared viciously. "You're not my boss." Sam stomped towards the door, huffing angrily.

"Where're you goin'?" Dean demanded, swinging around to face his sibling.

"For a walk."

"No, I don't think so," the elder brother snickered humourlessly. "Consider yourself tied to me. Where you go, I go. I won't let you go out to score some blood from that bitch."

"You can't hold me prisoner," Sam responded coldly.

"Watch me," the elder Winchester replied, crossing the room to block the door.

"Get out of my way, Dean."

Dean matched his brother's glare as he leaned against the door, crossing his arms reproachfully.

With an angry growl, Sam grabbed his brother by his shirt collar, pulling him away from the door. "Back off," he barked. Shoving the older man to the floor, he again moved for the door.

Dean scrambled to his feet and ran for his sibling, launching himself bodily at the younger hunter. The force of the other man drove Sam against the wall, knocking the air form his lungs. Gasping, Sam turned on his brother, his fist connecting with the older man's chin.

"Son of a bitch," Dean spat, countering the attack.

The impact split the younger fighter's lip, rocking his head back slightly. Wiping the blood from his mouth, Sam grinned darkly and dove at his opponent. Sam's shoulder slammed into Dean's stomach, knocking them both off their feet and through the wooden coffee table. Neither hunter offering leeway for the other to move or land an effective hit.

Hearing the deafening blast of a shotgun, the Winchesters froze, looking up from their position on the destroyed coffee table.

"You idgits" Bobby growled. "What's wrong with you?" The grizzled hunter lowered the shotgun as he glared at the young men.

Standing slowly, Sam looked down at his bleeding sibling, his heart heavy in his chest. He didn't want it to come to this. All he wanted to do was keep Dean safe. To destroy the vile being that had, for all intents and purposes, taken his brother from him. The man that came back from hell wasn't his Dean - he wasn't whole.

Turning to look at Bobby with blurring eyes, the young man drew a shaky breath. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me." With a final glance at his subdued sibling, he walked to the door.

Bobby nodded. "We got some planning to do when you get back."

Sam paused and looked back at his father figure as a tear slid from his eye. "I'm not coming back." He whispered before disappearing into the night.

The shocked, motionless man suddenly jumped into action. Springing from the floor, he raced after his brother. "Sam!" he called, standing in the front yard, slowly scanning each direction for his sibling. "Sam?"

-0-

Dean had searched the salvage yard, calling for his brother for hours until Bobby had finally been able to coax him back inside. Once in the house, the distraught young hunter had called his sibling's cell repeatedly, only to get Sam's voice mail every time.

Their break had come from the most unlikely source. Around three in the morning, Ruby had shown up at the door, ranting about Sam trying to take on Lillith when he wasn't yet ready.

Bobby had no idea how he had managed to keep the angry Winchester from tearing the demon apart with his bare hands, but he had. And Ruby talked. Telling them everything, she knew about Sam's whereabouts and what he had planned. Not long after, the elder Winchester packed his stuff into the Impala, refusing to let the old hunter help or tag along. Dean had felt it was his family - his responsibility.

Bobby sighed heavily, as a fresh geyser of tears sprung from his grey eyes. They were his family. All he had left in this world, and he let them leave. Knowing full well, they were running headlong to their own deaths - possibly by each other's hands.

"You did right by those boys," a voice drifted through the sticky air. "You've done well, Robert."

Raising his tear streaked face the hunter looked up. Wiping the wetness from his rugged features, Bobby stood, facing the newcomer. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded harshly.

The golden-haired woman smiled sadly, "It's time to remember." She placed her middle and index finger on the grizzled man's forehead.

Bobby's head snapped back as an electric current shot though him, delving into the locked memories of his mind.

He saw himself sitting in a crimson pool of his wife's blood, the offending knife still clutched in his hand. Again, he felt the guilt, shame and self-hate spread through him. He watched as his memory-self picked up the gun, placing it in his mouth. Bobby gasped as he heard the resonating click of the gun miss firing, recalling the agonizing despair of the unsuccessful suicide attempt.

He could see the sudden flash of a soft white light, and she stood in front of him. Shining in an ethereal glow, the blonde woman cried for him as she knelt down, taking the gun from his trembling fingers. "It's not your time, Robert," she said sorrowfully. "We have work for you."

Then the deal was made - and he had forgotten. Faith had made him forget.

Dropping to his knees, the old hunter clutched his head, a raspy growl pushing through parched lips. Each unlocked memory, merged into a chaotic symphony of picture and sound. The erratic firing of his synopsis eased and he raised fear-filled eyes to his unexpected guest. "Faith," he whispered softly, slumping against the porch railing.

Crouching, the being peered into the pale eyes of the broken man. "I've come to fulfill my promise, Robert," she said impassively. "It is time."

"No, the boys need me," Bobby said with a quiet determination.

"You have completed the task assigned to you. It is time to collect the payment you requested." Faith cupped the man's chin, encouraging him to rise to his feet as she straightened.

Standing, Bobby clutched at the railing for support as his weakened knees threatened to spill him to the unyielding ground. "I let them boys go on their own," he uttered disgustedly. "I should be with them."

"It's not your fight, Robert. It never was."

"The hell it ain't," the seasoned hunter spat out. "If those boys are walking into slaughter - I'm damn well walking into it with 'em." Angered Bobby turned and stomped up the porch steps, slamming through the screen door.

Bobby quickly gathered his supplies, casting a brief glance at the woman as she entered the house behind him. "I'm goin' after them, and nothing you say will stop me." Zipping the canvass satchel, the hunter paused, staring at the beautiful creature before him. "I'm not letting them face this alone. And I'm sure as hell not gonna sit back with my thumb up my ass while they kill each other."

Soft indigo eyes searched the bearded face. "I'm offering a painless transition. As promised. If you go after the Winchesters I can't guarantee your passing will be easy - or pain free."

Scowling, Bobby hefted his pack to his shoulder and brushed past his guest as he moved to the door. "That's fine. I'd rather go down fighting alongside the boys, than peacefully here alone."

A cool hand came to rest on the hunter's forearm stopping him in mid-step. "It's not your fight. Your job is over, Robert. Now let me do mine."

"Damn it, Faith. I said no." Bobby wrenched his arm from her soothing touch. "I'm releasing you from your obligations. Tell your boss I'll take whatever's coming to me, but I'm not going out as a coward. Now, leave me the hell alone."

The grizzled hunter rushed out the door, pulling his keys from his pocket as he went. The old pick-up was a sturdy vehicle, but it wasn't what he needed. If he planned to catch Dean before he did something stupid, he needed something with speed. Bypassing the old half-ton, Bobby hurried to the rear garage. Unlocking the doors, he entered the bay, a lump forming in his throat as he quickly peeled back the car cover exposing the black '73 Jaguar Series 3.

Sliding behind the wheel of the two-plus-two coupe, he expelled a heavy sigh. Although he had kept the car in perfect shape, he only started the engine for tune-ups - never to drive. It was his wife's car, after what he had done, he didn't have the right to drive the beauty and he couldn't part with it or let it rust away.

Tossing the weapons bag in to the back, Bobby turned over the engine, smiling when it caught immediately, idling in a deep growl. He eased the car gently from the garage, kicking the V-12 motor into action, when he passed the speed bump in front of the doors. Without slowing, he sped onto the road, tires screaming on the asphalt.

He was going to the boys - his boys and he would fight beside them, as family should.

Faith stood beneath the porch light, watching the vehicle careen out of sight. A smile illuminated her features, giving her an angelic glow.

You have done well, sister.

Raising her eyes to the lightening sky, she located the opening in the clouds where a shaft of light spilled through. "It is in their hands now, Michael," she sighed.

You were right to intercede in his fate so many years ago.

"We need the Winchesters," she replied, returning her gaze to the empty road. "And they need Bobby Singer."

-END-