Thanks go to Gredelia1 for pre-reading and to Snarkymuch2 for giving me the plot bunny. This story is un-beta'd so any mistakes that remain are my own.

Chapter Seven

Bobby opened the door to the panic room and stepped inside. Castiel was standing at the back of the room, watching Dean working over the demon. It was one of dozens of demons and monsters they had interrogated in their search for Sam, but Dean was losing none of his determination.

"I'm going to ask you again," Dean said, tossing Ruby's knife from hand to hand. "Where's my brother?"

"Go to hell," the demon spat.

Dean snapped forward and plunged the blade into the demon's leg. Energy crackled around the wound and the demon howled with pain. "Try again," Dean snarled.

"I don't know," the demon wailed. "I swear I don't. Now take it out, please."

Dean didn't pull the blade out. Instead, he slowly twisted it in the demon's leg, causing new howls of agony.

"Where is my brother?" Dean asked, enunciating each word carefully.

"I don't know!"

Castiel stepped forward. "I don't believe he knows, Dean."

Dean sighed and wiped a hand across his brow. "I think you're right, Cas. Pity. He just lost his value as a witness." He pulled the blade from the demon's leg and stepped back.

The demon's eyes followed the knife as Dean twirled it in his hand. "What are you going to do to me? Exorcise me?" He sounded hopeful.

Dean shook his head slowly. "Nah. Can't have you running back to Crowley telling him what we're doing."

The demon shook his head jerkily. "I won't tell him anything. I promise."

Dean turned back to look at Bobby. "You hear that, Bobby? He promises."

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "I hear it."

Dean tapped the hilt of the blade against his palm. "See, I don't know if I believe you. I think the first thing you'll do when you get back to the pit is track down your boss and tell him everything you know."

The demon's eyes widened. "I won't!"

Dean shook his head ruefully. "I can't take that chance." With a practiced move, he whipped the knife across the demon's throat. Blood spurted from the wound and ran down the demon's shirt. As the demon took one last gurgling breath, Dean cut through the ropes holding the demon in place and turned to Castiel. "Cas, can you take care of this for me?"

Castiel hefted the corpse into his arms. With a rustling sound, he disappeared, and Bobby and Dean were left alone. Dean wiped the bloody knife on a rag with an air of a man not noticing what he was doing. He probably wasn't; this was all routine now.

Bobby cleared his throat and Dean looked up. "What?"

"Did you get anything out of him before you gave him a close shave?"

Dean shook his head. "Only that Crowley is still busy hunting down Purgatory. The demon was just a foot soldier."

Bobby cursed under his breath. "This is getting us nowhere."

Dean's features darkened. "You got any better ideas for finding Sam?"

"You know I don't."

"Then we keep going as we are. Someone has to know what's happened to him; we just need to find the right demon or monster to question."

Bobby raised his hands in front of him. "I'm not arguing."

"Good. Because whatever we're doing to these demons is nothing compared to what is probably happening to Sam."

That was Bobby's fear too. They had no idea who or what had taken Sam, so they didn't know what was happening to him. The thought that Sam was suffering worse that the demons and monsters Dean interrogated made bile rise to the back of Bobby's throat.

He took a bottle of whiskey and poured the dregs of the bottle into a glass for Dean. It was just past noon, and though this would be his first drink of the day, it wouldn't be his last. Bobby knew they were both drinking too much, but given the shitty situation they were both living in, he figured they were entitled to a drink.

Dean took the glass and knocked it back in one. "You got anymore of this?"

"No, that was the last bottle. I'll make a run out for some more."

Dean nodded. "Best get some beers while you're there."

"And some food," Bobby said pointedly. He was drinking as much as Dean, but he wasn't forgetting to eat the way Dean was. His devotion to the hunt for Sam made him sometimes forget he was human and had needs too. Bobby had pointed out many times that it was no good finding Sam if he was too weak from malnutrition to do anything about it.

Dean nodded vaguely. "Yeah, that too."

Sighing, Bobby left the room and made his way back to the main house. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the table and went out to the car. His Chevelle was parked beside the Impala at the front of the house. After driving home the first day Sam was missing, Dean locked up the car and he hadn't been back inside it since, choosing to borrow Bobby's car when he needed to go somewhere. Bobby hadn't asked him about it, but he guessed Dean felt wrong driving around without Sam beside him.

He steered the car through the stacks of junkers and onto the main road into town. His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Sam and what could be happening to him. He still wasn't convinced Crowley didn't have him. It would definitely be a good way to keep them from trying to stop him cracking open Purgatory. And there were the other monsters to consider. The boys had already been targeted once by djinns once because they'd taken out the father. There were a hundred other monsters that might want revenge on them for their fallen.

The one consolation Bobby had was that Sam was strong; he would get through whatever was thrown at him as he had survived worse before. You didn't come through Hell with your mind intact by being weak.

Encouraging thoughts of Sam sustained him into town. Soon he was pulling the car to a stop in the Sunshine Foods parking lot. He cut the engine and climbed out, nodding hello to an acquaintance as he did.

The air-conditioning was on in the store, and it was good to feel the cool blast after the heat of the car. Summer had come fast to South Dakota, another reminder of just how long Sam had been gone. It had been May when he was taken, now they were approaching Independence Day. The boys usually made it to Bobby's place for the holiday, and they made an event of it. It was sad to think that this year their celebrations would be cancelled.

He made his way along the aisles, paying little attention to what he was putting into his cart. As long as he had the beer and whiskey, Dean wouldn't complain.

He was just turning the corner into the last aisle when he saw something that made his heart leap in his chest. It wasn't the first time it had happened, he'd seen Sam a dozen times in the weeks that he had been gone—An unusually tall man on Main Street. A snatch of his voice as he passed a diner—but this time was different. This time he was sure he was actually looking at Sam.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked down the aisle at the man he believed to be his surrogate son. He was standing with his back to Bobby, examining something in his hands. The clothes he was wearing were unfamiliar, but the way they stretched across the broad shoulders was not.

"Sam?" He wasn't aware he was speaking until the man turned.

Bobby shook his head wordlessly as he took in the familiar features. It was Sam.

He looked a little like a deer caught in headlights as he caught sight of Bobby, but he quickly schooled his features into a welcoming smile. "Bobby." He stepped forward with a hand outstretched.

Bobby stared at him as if not sure he believed what he was seeing. His hunter's eye didn't miss the fact Sam's hand was shaking slightly. Understandable given the situation. Dean, Castiel and Bobby had been moving heaven and earth to find him while Sam was alive, well, and apparently shopping for groceries.

Bobby looked at the outstretched hand and he swallowed thickly. He wanted more than a handshake. He wanted to embrace Sam, to shake him and scold him for cursing him to weeks of worry, but he sensed that if he tried either of those things Sam would bolt and he would be left with no answers. Only half-aware of what he was doing, he shook Sam's hand and patted his arm. "Damn, boy, it's good to see you," he breathed.

Sam grinned. "You too. I forgot you lived up this way."

Despite what many in the town might think of him, Bobby wasn't a fool, and the drink hadn't dulled his wits at all. He knew immediately that there was something very wrong with this scene, and he had his suspicions of what had happened, and he realized how carefully he had to tread.

"It's been a while," Bobby said carefully.

"Yeah, must be, what, five years, six?"

Bobby's mind reeled but his expression remained fixed in a smile. "Must be. So what have you been doing?"

Sam rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "That's a long story."

"You want to go get a beer?" Bobby asked, eager to detain Sam long enough for him to get hold of Dean. "We can catch up."

Sam looked embarrassed. "I can't."

He didn't offer up any other explanation and Bobby didn't push for more. He was torn. He wanted to question Sam, to find out where the hell he'd been and why he didn't seem to know Bobby as he should, but if his suspicions were confirmed, he would be risking further damage to Sam's mind.

Sam checked his watch and sighed. "I've got to get going. I'm going to be late for work."

Unless Sam had taken to hunting in shifts, the word work didn't make any sense to Bobby, not that anything else did either. Sam was acting as if they were old buddies that had fallen out of touch over the years not like father and son as they had been for years. He felt like he should be questioning Sam about where he'd been and what had happened to him—that's what Dean would want him to do—but Bobby was leery of triggering something in Sam.

"Okay," Bobby said slowly. "You free to meet up tonight?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm working till eight, and then I'll be pretty bushed. But I'd like to meet up sometime."

Bobby didn't want to leave it with such a vague arrangement for another meeting, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't wrangle Sam into the car and drive him back to the house; even if Sam couldn't overpower him with his hands tied behind his back, he would risk further damage to Sam if he did.

"You remember where I live?"

"Out on Rattigan Road, right?"

Bobby nodded. "Here," he took a tattered business card out of his wallet, "give me a call."

Sam took the proffered card. "I will. Thanks, Bobby. It's good to see a familiar face again. It's been a while."

He shook Bobby's hand once more, and then turned his cart and headed to the cashier. Bobby watched him go, stunned into inertia. He had found Sam, but something big and undoubtedly bad had happened to him. How was he supposed to tell Dean?

That question triggered him into action. He couldn't go back to the house to tell Dean he'd found Sam only to have no idea where he was now. He left his cart in the middle of the aisle and headed for the exit. He was there just in time to see Sam turn a corner with his arms laden with groceries. Bobby jogged to the end of the road, and peered around the corner, wary of being seen by Sam. Luck was on Bobby's side, Sam's hunter instincts seemed to be having an off day, as he didn't notice he was being followed. Bobby followed him down one road and another until they came to a low rent apartment complex. Bobby stood on the corner and watched as Sam let himself into one of the apartments. He made a mental note of the apartment number and then turned and trudged back to the car.

When he got to the car, he climbed in and rested his head on the steering wheel. His mind was awash with questions to which he had no answers. The most prominent of which was how he was supposed to tell Dean what had just happened.

Sorry about the short chapter, but it seemed the right place to stop. Thanks as always for the reviews, faves and follows. I want to hug you all.