What's this? A update and its only been week? It's the end of the world as we know it! And even more exciting news, the next chapter will be the end of Part One! Which Part Two will be many little drabbles over the year of Loki's 'disappearance'. Not much to report, thank you to all that reviewed and thank you to my Beta Midnight Spiral.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the Avengers.
000
Chapter Seven: Thunderstorms
"Oh you tell me to hold on
Oh you tell me to hold on
But innocence is gone
And what was right is wrong."
- Bleeding Out, Imagine Dragons
000
Bobby Singer is many things: a mechanic, unofficial scholar, researcher, and hunter (a pretty damn good one too). But if there was one thing he was not, it was a baby sitter.
Bobby had just woken up in the middle of the night for the fourth time that week. First thought always went to intruder. His eyes scan to the devil's traps that he had placed around his bed and to the salt lines against the window sill. He found them all undisturbed as thunder turned his attention to the old window that's being pelted by rain. His mind is logically telling him that it was the storm that had woken him up once again but the curling and churning of his gut tells him that there is something else. Something is in here, Bobby thinks tiredly.
Quietly he reaches for his pistol that's tucked between his mattress and slips out of bed with only the rustling of sheets giving away his movement. Slowly, he makes his way around the queen bed, pistol raised just below eye level.
And then he hears it. Breathing. It is soft, but it's there. Adrenaline pumping, Bobby rounds the corner of the bed, heel to toe of bare feet feeling the old floor boards with every step as the safety is clicked off. He rounds the bed and-
A flash of lightning shows the Wendigo victim curled into a ball on the wooden floor, his body half under the bed as if to find cover and warmth. Bobby lowers the gun in half relief and half in frustration. He deduces that the man must have been the reason of his lack of sleep this past week; sneaking in and sleeping near the bed only to wake and leave before Bobby noticed. Exhausted, Bobby sits down on the bed and watches the wounded stranger sleep. He clicks the safety back on his gun and ran a rough hand down his face and let it rest on his chin.
He wasn't cut out for this, being a babysitter. Hunters weren't supposed to take care of the after math. They hunted the monsters, saved people if they could, then they left the rest to the police and shrinks to deal with the victims. Bobby watched as the stranger start to twitch, moan and whimper. Bobby is at loss of what to do. He doesn't know how to deal with people with PTSD. He doesn't even know how to deal with it himself. The hunters that can't handle their own demons or problems ended up in mental asylums or (most of the time) dead.
He should have pawned the kid off to someone else. To hell with Missouri's visions, he knows at least half a dozen people he can list off from memory that are more qualified than him. But there was something about the kid, something in his eyes that still had a spark. Something beneath the hollow look in his eyes, a fight Bobby recognizes that stops him from picking up the phone and letting someone else deal with him. And besides, Bobby knows that the man with no memories would want to be near people who can understand what its like being chased by the Supernatural.
The moaning is becoming louder and the twitching is now turning into thrashing. Bobby uncertainly approaches the man, not sure how deal with this situation but decides he should at least wake the poor kid. No, not a kid, but it's easy to make that mistake. He's way too thin for his own good and Dean's shirt and sweats seem to pool around him.
Bobby tries to think if it was Dean or Sam cowering under his bed and an idea slowly forms in his head. Crouching down he lightly touches the man on his shoulder and the thrashing becomes violent but Bobby holds him steady until eyelids snap open at him in panic, whether at being caught in his room or from the nightmare, Bobby doesn't know. But Bobby keeps his face calm and keeps eye contact as he says,
"You're okay, it's just a nightmare."
The man's breathing becomes more controlled and the tension in his shoulders becomes visibly relaxed.
"Come on son; let's get you in the bed." Bobby says softly as he gently takes hold of the man's torso and helps him stand.
"I don't like lightning." The man whispers so quietly that Bobby's keen ears almost miss it.
"No one does. It's loud, destructive and gets everything wet. But that doesn't mean you should sleep on the floor. You're gonna strain your injuries like that."
Bobby positions him on the bed only to lift him up again when a sharp pain ripples across his back.
Son of a b-
Bobby sucks in a breath as he automatically places his hand on his back. Cursing at his old age he realizes that he is in no shape at the moment to help the man back into the guest room. He notices the man look at him with a slight tilt of the head, lips parted in confusion to Bobby's sudden lack of movement but he is also in no shape to get back to his room on his own.
I guess it's a sleepover, then, Bobby thinks in annoyance and slowly helps the man ease into his bed. Bobby is hit with nostalgia as he gently covers the man with the top cover as he used to do it with Dean and Sam. The man doesn't say anything but stares up at him with round innocent eyes. Bobby then walks silently with calculated steps to the other side of the bed and settled in himself. Placing the gun under the pillow, he scrimmages around his nightstand drawers only to find a half empty bottle of Aleve. Popping two capsules into his mouth, he washes it down with a forgotten bottle of beer. Satisfied, he settles back into the bed, eager to banish the strained muscle.
The thunder and lightning continue outside, filling in the silence. Bobby is finally going to sleep until he felt a body press up against his side. Bobby's eyes fly open at the contact. He cranes his neck to the right and sees that the man has scooted over so that he is curling around his side.
Bobby flushes and now feels so uncomfortable that he doesn't know if he should scoot away or tell the kid to back off. But it was then that Bobby noticed the even smooth breaths coming from the man. No nightmare terrors or moaning. With a defeated sigh, Bobby decides to let it pass just this once if it means that the both of them will finally have a decent night's sleep. Trying to ignore the comforting warmth on his side, Bobby relaxes into the mattress as he tells himself that this would be the first and last time that he'll let the man share the bed.
Its been five days since the boys had left Bobby with the injured man. Ellen had called for a favor that included a hunt a few states over. It seemed some demons were stirring up trouble and the boys have seemed to rack up a reputation of dealing with demons. Dean and Sam left the injured man behind convincing him that the man had no place out in the line of fire. Dean was right of course, but that didn't mean he actually knew what to do with the man.
Bobby looks at the man again and sees the dimly lit face that is peacefully relaxed which then nuzzled into his shoulder. Bobby awkwardly squirms but doesn't push the man away. He busied his mind with ways that will help the man cope with his own demons. He thinks maybe if he can find the man a hobby, something that would keep his mind off of things if only for a while.
The past five days was spent letting the man sleep. When he was conscious, he spent it wandering the house or calmly watching Bobby from a distance which had already grown tiring. And although the man seemed to be eager to reclaim his memories, there has been no significant progression. So far he knows that the man does not like sudden movements, squash, thunderstorms, microwaves, Stan the neighbor and Ben Stiller. However he does like tea, blue skies, music (mostly classical), lasagna, Dean's jokes and books.
Bobby's mind screeches to a halt and he mentally slaps himself.
Of course! How could he forget the kid's look when he held one of his ancient texts. His mind plays with an idea and he can't say he isn't excited about sharing his collection with a possible literature enthusiast. Or possibly a scholar Bobby wonders sleepily.
Bobby tries to think about what he should start with, books on poltergeist? No, too soon he corrects. Possibly a book on languages that would give him so sort of clue of the kid's identity? Maybe.
Other books come to mind as he drifts away; fiction, poetry, biographies and maybe...
He wants to play with the possible idea of having an apprentice. Someone who can help him research and hold down the fort since the number of hunters seem to be growing and with word of mouth they all come to him for advice.
But he needs to squash that small wish away. The kid belongs to some family that surely must be looking for him and he would certainly want to be with them and not stuck in the underground world of the supernatural.
The Aleve has kicked in and he is now able to ignore the increasing booms and shudders of the thunder. Tomorrow he will deal with the kid's predicament, but for now, now they will sleep.
000
Questions, comments, reviews? Just click that little button down there. Go on, I know you want to.
