An hour later, a knock came on the motel door. Sam stiffly got up and opened it to reveal Bobby, sitting in his wheel chair with grief etched across his face. No words were exchanged between the two as Bobby rolled over to where Dean was laying on the bed, hours past having grown cold and stiff. The older man clasped a hand over his mouth as his eyes burned with fresh tears.
"I can't Bobby. He's...he's not gone. There's gotta be something. We just started being brothers again."
Dean walked over to stand next to Sam, his heart now torn to shreds.
"I'm sorry about this Sammy, but the sooner you find that hex bag, the sooner you can get me back. This is not one of those 'what's dead should stay dead' situations. I am very much alive," he whispered despite himself.
Bobby rolled away from the bed and back towards the door.
"Sam, let's go outside." He's long gone. There ain't nothing more I can do for my boys, Bobby thought blearily, leading Sam out of the motel room door and closing it behind them.
Looks like I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands.
"I just can't get good help around here anymore," he muttered to himself. He once again crouched beside the bed and used all he could to pick up the hex bag. Nasty little piece of work. So much more trouble than they are worth. He set it on the table and went looking for his lighter. I am not so sure I can pull this one off...
Dean reached into the pocket of the jacket that was hooked to the back of his chair and felt around for his zippo, pulling it out when he knew his ghost hands weren't going to drop it. A few deep breaths later and desperate prayers, he held the hex bag in his hand and starting flicking the little lighter nob.
"Please work..please work...please work..." Seconds of flipping stretched into minutes and minutes stretched into eternity. I think I have been trying to get this to light for an hour at least he thought when suddenly, a little flame appeared. He nearly dropped the lighter with excitement, but lone behold, the hex bag caught on fire.
The effect was instantaneous. He felt like he was being pulled apart and shoved back together again but in a blink of an eye, he was back in his place on the bed and sucking in a lungful of air. He could feel his heart beating again and his skin was gradually regaining its color. My god am I going to be stiff. I think the apocalypse can wait after this little bout of fun. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to rid the dryness, and sat up with a groan.
"Jesus I feel old." He swung his legs off of the bed and began to stand up, only to fall back again with the feeling of gelatin legs. Okay Sam. Give me a minute.
