Disclaimer: Nothing original in here. Dean, Sam and Bobby belong to Supernatural's Erik Kripke

A friend in need is a friend indeed II

"Dean Winchester", he said, to be clear and get everything rolling.

"We have Sam, there is something we want in exchange", a woman said, getting straight to business too.

Dean listened intently to the woman's voice, trying to figure out what she was. Demon, witch or vampire was at the top of his list. Maybe shapeshifter. The total control he had decided to exercise on himself got a bit knocked out of him since the woman hadn't been at all thrown by his calm voice. She seemed ice cold, focused. No torturing questions. No gloating. He licked his lips and nodded to her words. Whatever she wanted she would get it.

"What do you want, then?" He asked.

"Bobby Singer. Alive. Delivered in four hours".

Of all the things he had expected to be asked, this didn't even make the top 100-list. Bobby, the best friend they had, whose house was the closest thing they had to a home anywhere in the world! After all the people they had lost, friends and family, because they had cared about them and allowed them to be a part of their lives, he should have been prepared. That they would loose Bobby was only natural. But somehow Bobby had seemed indestructible, stability itself in mind and body. The icicle sprouted new barbs and Dean sank down next to the Impala, taking cover, minimising the target area as if the pain came from outside.

"Where?" he asked, marvelling that the word was even leaving his mouth.

"Allen", I will call you in four hours and you'll both be there", she said and hung up.

Dean's next question, "why?" was only heard by the quiet evening drizzle as he whispered it. Why Bobby? He had to get a grip on this, and he had to go someplace quiet. He rose with all the grace of a 90-year old and reluctantly turned to the motel and stepped across the threshold, alone. He looked over at his brother's bag and the discarded clothes he had changed from when he decided to take a walk. Then he sat down on his own bed and stared at the cellphone for a while before he called Bobby.

It didn't take more than a few seconds before his voice, guarded as usual, not giving anything away, simply stated:

"Yeah"

"Bobby, it's Dean. Sam has, has been, kidnapped, I guess."

Dean was dismayed at how weak he sounded, since when was he stuttering or second-guessing his own words? It had to end here and now. He straightened up and talked to the expectant silence on the other end.

"Well, he went out for a walk right after we came here, we, I, am in Edmonton, we were on our way to, anyway, he went out four hours ago. Then I got a video message with him all, all tied up and bloody…"

"Dean? You send me that video now, before we talk more. Send it now and I will call you when I've seen it".

Bobby hung up and Dean sent the message. Then he watched it again. For some reason, when he saw Sam's hard earned muscles straining to break him free his mind unexpectedly replaced them with the thin sticks of 13-year old Sam. His little brother had been late in getting muscles and Dean remembered how embarrassing it had been for Sam to practise moves with him when Dean had been 17. He recalled that he had once almost broken his left arm because he couldn't believe it wouldn't offer more resistance than that. He wondered if he had ever apologised.

Then the phone rang and he heard Bobby's voice, comfort, competence and experience in every syllable:

"He looks ok, Dean. I don't think he is badly hurt. Now tell me, what did they want?"

"You. Alive. Delivered in Allen in four hours". There was no other way to say it so Dean went for blunt.

A deep silence followed his words and he waited. It took almost a minute for Bobby to answer, but when he did his voice, though slower and thoughtful, was unchanged in terms of worry.

"I have made many enemies in my days and there are still a few unaccounted for. I have to put together a few things for all eventualities but I can still meet you there in about three hours. Take a room at Ye Olde Inn, we might as well have a base in case this takes time. And bring all your things".

"I will", Dean promised. "And Bobby…thank you"

"No need. It's not your trouble this time. Seems like they're using the kid to get to me. See you in three".

Dean had everything packed and was leaving the parking lot in less than five minutes, wipers going back and forth in the drizzle and the passenger seat emptier than it had ever been.