Thank you thank you to everyone who reads, and comments. Big thank you to Maygin for her help as beta!
Lost in the night
Feeling so invisible
A dead man walking the wire
High above the devil's net that's made of fire….'Alive' by Meat Loaf
Bobby had no idea what he'd find when he got to the boys, his boys, the closest thing he had to a family even before his sister was gone. If Dean's first phone call sent shivers through him, his second one stopped Bobby's ability to swallow or breathe properly. Dean at least was ok enough to be able to make two phone calls. As for Sam he had no clue what condition the boy was in, he wasn't even fully convinced Sam was alive anymore. Dean calling, voice breaking and cracking asking…begging…him to come get them, tow their car in. Did he remember correctly Dean saying there wasn't much more they could survive? They! Two of them. But then again would Dean ever stop speaking of Sam in the here and now even if he'd died? Bobby doubted it. He seriously doubted Dean's sanity, if not his own life would survive Sam's dying.
Armed with what he hoped were appropriate weapons, gas tank of his tow truck full, Bobby sped down the dark roads, following the directions Dean gave him. Christ, what would he do with Dean if some had happened to Sam? The man's voice was like Bobby never heard it before. Dean was clearly at the end of a very short rope, clinging desperately to keep from falling into some dark abyss he'd never crawl out of.
Finding the Impala exactly where Dean said it would be Bobby relaxed a fraction, the car looked fine, so there'd been no accident. He could check that worry off his list. However it just meant one of his other, more dangerous worries was likely the culprit. Grabbing his shotgun, holy water, a knife and stuffing a pistol into the small holster at his back, Bobby approached the car quickly, quietly, cautiously. Holding a flashlight in his free hand, high and aimed into the car Bobby took stock of the situation.
Sam was propped against the back passenger door, Bobby's relief when he saw movement made him pause, catch his breath. Sam's knee bumped the back of the front seat, he saw Sam's lips move, knew the word was a very low, quietly spoken Dean. Sam's eyes shifted from Bobby's approaching form to Dean, back again, then as Dean stirred stayed riveted on his brother. The poor kid looked like he was tied up and had gone nine rounds with a brick wall and lost. He was moving, that was what interested Bobby the most, moving and alive, if not completely healthy. Valkyrie was sitting on Sam's legs, hanging over the seat so her front legs rested on Dean's shoulder.
Dean groaned awake, stirred, glanced first out the window, met Bobby's eyes and asked Sam if he was ok as he nodded to Bobby. All that let Bobby know they were both pretty much themselves. Though he thought it a bit odd Dean was handcuffed to the steering wheel. Dean wore a pissed off rabid dog expression, Sam more like a deer facing down headlights and a cannon. The driver's side window was partially rolled down so Bobby merely had to lean down to talk to them.
He was close enough now to take in more details. Sam was tied up in his own shirt, straight jacket style. A nasty looking bruise covered most of the right side of his head and face. He was a collection of scrapes, shallow cuts and smaller bruises. He leaned against the passenger back door, a blanket balled behind him, legs stretched as much as Sam could stretch in the back seat. Dean's eyes were red rimmed, he looked exhausted. His hands were discolored from small bruises and there was a gash along his left temple. His movements were stiff, unsure and when Bobby looked closer Dean's eyes were not their normal mask of calm and calculating hunter. If Dean's voice had sent Bobby's alarm bells off his eyes turned those bells into blaring sirens. He looked on the verge of complete panic. Bobby was sure the only thing keeping Dean together right now was his always present tendencies to protect Sam. The sudden realization came to Bobby that was what kept Dean on track and together most his life, he focused on his kid brother, used his own need to keep Sam safe to keep himself going, keep his head clear. Dean was so focused on Sam he never saw danger to himself or even thought he might lose himself someday.
"I'm going to guess you two have a good reason for this, and it's not some joke." Bobby attempted to lighten the mood, it worked too. Dean relaxed the smallest amount. When Sam saw tension ease from his brother's shoulders he relaxed somewhat too. Bobby took a deep breath, mission one accomplished.
"We think it's one of the McCreedy twins, and Redding. The key to my cuffs is on the hood," Dean moved his wrists in the direction of the windshield, jutting his chin that way too. "Please, just leave us here, tow the car in. We'll explain everything, but first…" A glance back at Sam, "…can we just go?"
Sam's eyes were glued to Dean. He hadn't said anything since waking his brother. That was very un-Sam-like. It took Bobby back to the first few days after he'd returned home, learned what happened to the boys while they'd stayed at his house for him. How Sam would go an entire day without saying more than three consecutive words. How he followed Dean like a lost, beaten puppy, refusing to let his older brother out of his sight, how he didn't do a thing unless Dean said it was necessary. Bobby still wasn't over feeling guilty for lighting a fire in the fire place which sent Sam skittering out to the front porch one night. In the months between then and now he'd been pleased to hear Sam's voice start to sound more normal. Dean seemed happy with his brother's progress. They were getting through. Bobby had even dared to think they'd be whole, themselves again.
Now Bobby feared all that was undone
"Sure." Bobby couldn't say much more, his throat was too dry and closed. He tapped the rim of the car door, stepped away and grabbed the key. "Can you shift to neutral for me?"
Dean nodded.
Making quick work of hooking the car up to be towed, Bobby glanced at them a few times. Sam's eyes followed his movements, slipping back and forth from Dean to Bobby. It was eerie. Dean's eyes were closed, head leaned back against the window frame. Without opening them at one point when Sam's gaze stayed on Dean, the older brother mumbled softly spoken words, "It'll be ok, Sammy." How the hell did Dean do that? Bobby had seen it more than once, and it fascinated him. Dean didn't have to be in the same room with Sam, able to see him or hear him and yet was able to know even the smallest distress from his brother. Maybe Sam wasn't the only psychic.
"You two ok in there?" He slowly winched the front end of the car off the ground.
"Just great." Dean managed a small smile. "Thanks. Thank you."
A nod from Bobby and he climbed into the cab of his truck, gently easing it into gear and onto the road, acutely aware of the precious cargo he pulled behind him. Fortunately the drive was quick, the Impala only being twenty or so minutes from Bobby's junk yard. Once safely back, the car unhooked, Bobby set about the task of getting the two of them free. He went first to the back door, knowing Dean would stubbornly refuse anything until he knew Sam was ok.
"Come on Sam, let's get you outa there." Bobby reached in, grabbing Sam's arms, ignoring the slight flinch from the boy, and the scrutiny of Dean's intense gaze. Sam scooted along the seat with Bobby's help and thankfully stood on his own. Bobby looked him over quickly, no broken bones, no obvious blood, he seemed fine that way. It was the haunted look to his eyes, the one he'd seen too much so many months back Bobby hated and was willing to bet Dean hated as much times ten. Sam waited patiently next to the car while Bobby fished the handcuff key from his pocket and extracted Dean. To Bobby it appeared Sam had given up, was resigned to whatever fate he'd come to because of the spirits. That Bobby knew would only lead to defeat.
"Thanks." Dean repeated, rubbing his wrists, and rolling his shoulders. Stepping closer to Sam, Dean laid one hand on his shoulder, turning Sam so his back was to Dean. "Probably getting tired of this get up, huh?" He gave the tied sleeves of Sam's flannel a tug.
"Dean." Sam barely whispered, turning his head to look at his brother, eyes sliding for the briefest second to Bobby before settling back on Dean again.
"It'll be ok. Besides don't even try telling me this isn't getting uncomfortable. Sorry, Sammy, I think I tied this too well." He used both hands now to tug on the bindings behind Sam's back. "Going to have to cut it off."
Sam shrugged. "It's your shirt."
That made Bobby smile. It was the first Sam-like thing he'd heard from the kid. Maybe his earlier assessment Sam had given up was wrong. Bobby very much hoped that boy had some fight left in him. He watched as Dean produced a small switch blade from his jacket pocket, told Sam, who hadn't actually moved, to stay still and expertly cut away Sam's restraints.
"You ok?" Dean gave Sam's arm a squeeze before stepping away from him.
Sam merely nodded, shed the flannel before moving his arms back and forth, flexing and relaxing what had to be very stiffened muscles. He didn't move otherwise, stood still watching Dean and Bobby. When Dean handed him one of their duffels Sam took it, staying put until Dean tapped his elbow, smiled a small shallow smile and dipped his head a fraction. As if reading Dean's mind, and Bobby realized Sam almost did, he was perfectly capable of reading the intent of Dean's actions, Sam obediently trailed along behind them to the house.
Valkyrie bounced up the steps to the front porch, down and up again in the time it took the three men to get there. When Bobby opened the door she sprinted inside, hopped onto his recliner and curled there watching them. The dog acted as if she owned the place, on second thought he decided maybe she did.
Sam stopped in the living room, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before settling again on Dean with brief glances at Bobby.
"Ok, now tell me what's been going on, from the start." Bobby looked from one to the other.
"Ever since Sam…" Dean shifted from one foot to the other, glancing briefly at Sam before continuing, "Ever since Sammy was kidnapped, since we left here after that he's been having nightmares. They've gotten progressively worse, totally out of control since we decided to head back here. At first they were mostly centered on something happening to me, something either Redding or McCreedy would do, sometimes Sam himself, forced by them." He continued on, listing a litany of recent events, culminating with Dean knocking Sam out cold after the kid tried slaughtering a train full of people.
Bobby didn't miss the fact this was the first time Dean had said the words to him 'Sam's kidnap.' He also didn't miss how Sam was suddenly more interested in the floor, the furniture and everything but meeting Bobby's eyes. Damn stupid kid thought it was his fault.
"They seemed to be more centered on Sam. But they've gotten me too. Forced us to…" Another glance at Sam. "To…um…we went after one another."
Bobby couldn't even comprehend what that tactic had done to the brothers. "When does this happen?"
"At first when one or both of us was asleep. The last few just happened, no warning, like a possession. We still have those charms; I thought they guarded against possession."
"Demon possession. But there are other things."
"There were no signs Bobby. Nothing. No cold air, no flickering lights, no feeling anything or smelling ozone or sulfur."
"There's always signs Dean. Just they won't always be the traditional types. What did you feel just before, maybe even several minutes before? Anything you can remember happening each time?"
The brothers exchanged a look. Dean shook his head once, "I'm not—"
"Warm." Sam blurted out. "I got warm each time right before. And Dean said he got warm and drowsy at the lake, when they tried to drown him. They almost, he…"
Dean sighed deeply, "I'm fine Sam."
"Dean you turned grey and stopped breathing."
"I'm fine now."
"What did you see when that happened? When any of it happened?" Bobby pressed.
"A lot of water." Dean smirked when Bobby snorted and Sam huffed a disgusted noise.
"Dean that's not really funny. You could have…"
Leveling a stare at Sam that silenced him Dean said, "Later Sam." He turned to Bobby. "I saw Redding, or thought I did. It was really Sam trying to get me out of the water. Things got hazy, then, and the other times. I saw black and red haze too."
"Each time it happened to me, Dean was after me, or I thought he was. I saw haze too."
Bobby had stopped watching them, moved to a stack of books near his desk, "Here. This is, it's, well I've only read about this type of thing, never seen it."
"Oh great," Dean quipped to Sam, "We've got something he's never seen before. Just our luck."
"What are you thinking?" Sam did precisely what Bobby did and ignored Dean.
"A type of entity. A spirit, similar to a vengeful spirit, one that can't or won't move on. They can manipulate what a person thinks is reality. Demons give them power to exist even if their bodies are salted and burned. Unlike normal spirits, these are more like actual souls. Instead of cold as warning, warmth is. What they do isn't exactly a possession, more like an infestation. You both remember what happened while it was with you?"
"Yeah, but our perception of what was happening was seriously skewed." Dean said. Sam nodded.
"Something holds them here, usually to a piece of land, rock formations, big ones, permanent geological type things."
"What type of thing holds them?"
"They're almost always connected with land, rock, so something in stone, metal, something like that."
"What about this?" Dean pulled out his cell phone, flipped it open and shoved the small screen under Bobby's nose.
Squinting at the picture Bobby nodded slowly. "Where did you find this?"
"Where their house was." Sam said softly.
"Makes sense." Bobby looked from one to the other. He hated what he was about to do, but knew it was necessary. "We need this."
Sam's face fell. He grasped the meaning of Bobby's simple statement a half second before Dean. The kid took on the wild rabbit look again. Dean stared at him for a few seconds, eyes widening, his head shook once.
"We have to go back?" Sam stumbled over the words.
"Not we Sam. There's no way we can both go back together and not be attacked again. Bobby won't find it in the dark."
Bobby's heart bled when Sam looked from Dean to him. The boy's fists bunched, he recoiled as if he'd been hit and hit hard. Watching him fight some horrible inner battle to keep control was devastating. Sam was in no shape to go, Dean wasn't much better. Bobby knew Dean would never allow Sam going to retrieve the marked stone. The simple fact remained it could take Bobby wasted hours to find it, not to mention he'd have to wait until daylight to even have a chance.
Having to twist around to see Dean completely it nearly killed Bobby to look at him. For the first time ever Bobby saw Dean look totally lost, uncertain. Even when John Winchester had died Dean hadn't looked like this. Leaving Sam right now meant not only leaving him alone, but entrusting him to someone else. Dean simply didn't have a concept of how to do that.
Bobby wanted to reassure them it wouldn't be so bad, it would be all right, a quick run to the property and back. But he couldn't do that.
"Look, Bobby, if you're right about this, then those things have been at Sam for a while. We've had our rooms warded, salted, and still it, they…whatever… got through. What happens if they get him while I'm gone? No offense, but how are you going to stop him when I barely could?" Dean was pacing. That was never good.
Pointing to the ceiling Sam asked, "What about your Devil's Trap, will it do any good?"
"I-I don't know." He glanced at his ceiling. "It sure can't hurt."
"Dean?" Sam's voice was so soft he was more exhaling his brother's name than speaking it. The kid's eyes were shimmering with moisture.
Dean still paced. "Bobby, I can't…" Breaking off he looked at Sam. "I…" He didn't seem to know what to say or how to say it.
"Sam, look through those books," Bobby pointed to one of his many stacks. "There might be more in one of them." Taking Dean by the sleeve Bobby pulled him along out of the room. "I've got an idea, come on, two minutes, you can see him just fine from the kitchen."
Once in the next room Dean whirled on him, the pissed off rabid dog resurfacing. "Bobby I can't. I can't leave him now. You see how he is. I can't." Dean's breath was short bursts. Bobby had the distinct impression Dean not wanting to leave Sam wasn't merely for Sam's peace of mind. "He's my responsibility. I'm the one who watches out for him, I've always done that. I can't just leave him."
Bobby learned years ago, if he wanted Sam to do something he first had to convince Dean. The sense of security they provided each other had been rammed home in a big way the night he'd helped Dean free Sam of a possession. It amazed him now as much as it had then, how once released from the demon Sam scrambled to Dean's side. Even after a punch from a very frustrated Dean, Sam shoved along the row of shelves until he was wedged partially behind his brother, and Dean scooted forward a bit, letting him. It hadn't escaped Bobby how then, as now, Dean was constantly between Sam and everyone including Bobby. Hell he'd seen it when their father was alive, Dean between John and Sam. He was willing to bet this was something they were both so conditioned to neither one gave it a thought. Dean led the way, cleared a safe path. Sam followed without hesitation.
"We need that stone Dean. If I go we'll have to wait until it's light, I'll never find it half buried in the dark. I'm not sure you two have that kind of time." Bobby kept his voice low so only Dean heard him, but put enough snap into it he hoped Dean would listen. He returned Dean's glare unwaveringly. "I've got an idea."
Rummaging through one of the cupboards he pulled a small bottle of liquid out and held it for Dean to see. "A tablespoon of this in some water, he'll be out for an hour or two. They won't be able to get at him. You should be back by then."
Dean's mouth dropped open. He stared at the bottle then Bobby for probably a full minute. Damn this kid was in trouble, he was never this slow at picking up what needed to be done.
"Drug him?" Dean stammered, whispering. "You want me to drug my brother?"
"Well, you could hit him in the head again with the butt end of your pistol. I thought this would be a bit nicer."
Bobby almost got a smile from Dean, but it vanished the second his lips started to form it. "Bobby," he shook his head, "I don't know if….I don't think Sam trusts—"
"Yes Dean you jackass he does!" Bobby lowered his voice when he saw Sam look up from one of the books. Grabbing Dean's sleeve he yanked roughly and spat out. "He does."
Apparently Dean hadn't seen the looks Sam had been directing his way since Bobby picked them up. When Dean's eyes met his Bobby barely held back the gasp. They were some mixture of haunted and just plain scared. Dean nodded. Sensing he'd better do this before Dean changed his mind Bobby filled a glass with water, mixed in the drug. Dean took it with shaking hands. He went back to his brother.
"Sam."
Looking up expectantly Sam's eyes rested on the glass. He'd moved Bobby's couch under the Devil's Trap, sat there with the books Bobby asked him to go through.
Dean perched on the arm of the couch. "Sammy I have to go get that stone. You need to stay here. If we go together they'll just get us again. We both know that."
Sam's head jerked once, he looked away at the floor, trembling ever so slightly. "What's that?"
"It's um….Bobby mixed it up, water and something to make you sleep for a bit. I can't leave unless I know they won't get to you Sam, I can't. It's the only way, the only thing we have time for right now."
Sam took the glass, but didn't drink. Bobby watched, not sure what exactly passed between the brothers, he was never sure, but damn didn't they communicate somehow. He'd seen it before, it amazed him every time. Anyone else, particularly if that anyone else was John Winchester, could never convince, coerce or trick Sam Winchester into doing anything he didn't want to. In fact if John wanted it Sam did the opposite for that reason alone. But if Dean wanted it, if Dean asked, Sam never questioned, even if Sam didn't completely agree. That Dean asked was reason enough for Sam.
"Dean?"
"What?"
Staring at the glass before meeting his brother's eyes Sam whispered, "Am I going to wake up?"
"Are you going to…?" Dean's shocked expression mirrored Bobby's he was sure. Shifting so he knelt in front of Sam, hand on Sam's arm, Dean asked what Bobby wanted to. "Awww, Sammy, where do you come up with this stuff? Of course you are."
Downing the liquid in one gulp, "Uughh…Bobby it's awful!" Sam sputtered, shaking his head and making a face. "How long does it take?"
"Just a few minutes."
Pulling the books away from the couch, Dean nudged against Sam's shoulder until the kid was curled on his side, lying down. "I'll be back before you wake up, hopefully."
Sam merely nodded, yawned and let his eyes drift shut.
Bobby backed away, gave them space. There was a certain tenderness in Dean Winchester that extended out in the direction of and only as far as his brother Sam. There it stopped. Bobby wondered if he'd been the only other person alive, or dead, to see it other than Sam. It certainly had never been experienced by anyone other than Sam. Maybe it was part of their strength.
A few minutes later, Sam was deeply sleeping. Dean had to get going, but hadn't moved. Bobby shuffled close enough to lay one hand on Dean's shoulder, making enough noise he didn't startle the other man. "Dean," he kept his voice soothing, "Dean, I'm sorry, but you need to go."
Standing slowly Dean glanced at him, nodded, looked back at Sam.
"Dean, I'll look after him, I will." He gave Dean's shoulder a mild push. "I will."
Wiping one hand over his face, Dean nodded again, said nothing, but reached out and squeezed Bobby's arm for an instant before bolting out the door.
Dean pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor.
Left Sam. He'd left Sam. Just doped him up and left him. Dean couldn't catch his breath; the inside of the Impala was lonely and empty, expansive and too small all at once.
He had to get back before Sam woke up.
Left him, he'd left his brother. The fact he'd left him with Bobby was of absolutely no comfort. Sam wasn't Bobby's responsibility, he was Dean's.
The road swam in sickening waves. Dean was sucking in air in harsh, short bursts. Pulling the car off to the side, Dean cut the engine. Get it together. He had to get control of himself, wrecking the car and dying wasn't going to be overly helpful. Left Sam. Lefthimlefthimlefthim.
Dean gripped the steering wheel with both hands so tightly his arms ached. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned his forehead against his knuckles, slumped forward and cried.
