Chapter 9
Bobby wrenched the phone away from his head as a burst of static and a high-pitched whine did the tango in his ear.
"Damn it all!"
Leave it to Sam and Dean to find trouble wherever they went. He didn't know how those boys always managed to be a magnet for anything that went bump in the night. He glared at the phone and the metallic echo it left behind. As much as he'd like to blame the less than stellar service he got out here, Bobby knew with those two it were wishful thinking. They were in some trouble, as usual, and he was gonna have to go and make sure they didn't go and die again.
He snapped off the radio and went to hang up the phone when a loud crash thundered through the next room.
Shotgun in hand, Bobby ran from the kitchen into the living room and stopped short. "Dean?"
Dean was caught in a toppled pile of books, wedged between the couch and a stray chair, in nothing but a shirt and his shorts. His eyes were a bit glassy and far away, like he was running a fever or was drunk as a skunk.
Bobby snuck a glance out the window. He couldn't see the Impala from where he was, not that it mattered much. Sam and Dean were in New Jersey. Unless they were lying. Neither explained why Dean was sitting in his house in his underwear.
Bobby weren't no fool. The whole scenario smelled worse than an imp in a bog.
Some of the fog lifted from Dean's face, and he began to move in earnest, trying to untangle himself from the mountain of books. His eyes locked onto Bobby, and he frowned.
"Bobby?"
"The one and only." Bobby's gaze fell to a few stray feathers scattered among the books. Balls. This was worse than he thought. He zeroed in on Dean. "Can't say the same 'bout you."
Dean blinked and patted his chest once before he glanced down, once as if remembering himself, and then second to the large feathers poking out of the books. His face visibly paled. "Bobby, I can explain."
Sure, he could. Didn't mean he'd believe a word of it.
Bobby leveled the shotgun at Dean. "What the hell are you?"
Dean hands shot up immediately. "Whoa! Bobby! Let's not do anything rash. It's me."
"My ass. Last time I checked, Dean was across country. So unless you can fly, you have some 'splaining to do." He glanced at the feathers again. "How'd you get here?"
"This is all a mistake." Dean let out a nervous chuckle so convincing Bobby almost bought it was him. "We were talking about the case and Castiel stopped by and-"
"I taught you how to lie, boy. Don't think I can't spot one when I hear one."
The cocky flair Dean wore fell away. Good. It must have understood he meant business.
"Bobby, come on. I know this looks bad, but I ain't messing with you. I can prove it." He licked his lips, and Bobby noted his eyes looked clearer. "Holy water, silver. Whatever. Like before."
"You got ten seconds to come clean."
"What the hell?"
"Seven."
"It's a funny story, really."
"Does it look like I'm laughing?" He cocked the gun. "When did you start wearing his face? Dixville?" Bobby knew something was up in Dixville. Didn't take a genius to know Dean was hiding something since he'd called from that oddity of a town. Not to mention how he'd been acting since he came back from The Pit. He wasn't Mr. Obvious for nothing. Bobby hadn't seriously hazarded a guess that it might not be Dean this whole time, but suddenly those glamour spells were making a whole lot of sense. "You got five seconds to spill before I blow your head clear off your neck."
"No, no no! I'm not a monster!"
"Do ya think I was born yesterday? I can see-"
Bobby stopped. Both stared at the cell phone ringing its heart out on the floor. Bobby recognized the ringtone distinctly as Dean's. He never understood his love affair with that God awful music he and his daddy used to listen to together. Still, it was familiar, just like the monster wearing Dean's skin. For all he knew, it could be some new creature catching a ride. Bobby wasn't sure to be relieved it was his phone or angry.
"Seriously? It couldn't have worked when I needed it?" Dean muttered. He moved his chin in the general direction of the phone. "It's Sam. He'll vouch for me."
"Kick it over."
Hands still raised, Dean stumbled forward, nearly tripping over Alfred Scofield's near ruined treatise on spirit channeling. When Dean arched his back and pivoted to get to the phone, Bobby saw the two distinct holes on the back of his shirt.
Bobby scowled. Couldn't get more obvious than that.
Dean tapped the phone with his foot before he shot it across the room. It hit the tip of Bobby's boot.
Bobby kept the gun trained on Dean as he picked up the phone with his free hand. He didn't have a chance to say hello when Sam's breathless voice come through the speaker. "Dean?"
"Sam?" Bobby asked, out of habit.
There was a slight pause before Sam spoke again. "Bobby?"
"This ain't no comedy routine."
"Is Dean with you?"
"Funny you should ask."
Dean frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to follow their conversation.
"Thank God." Sam's sigh of relief threw Bobby. Something was up, all right. "Is he okay?"
Sam knew. Whatever those two boys were up to, they were in it together, which meant they had both lied to him. "You gonna clue me in on what's going on or do I have to come pry it out of you?"
"Look, Bobby, we can explain."
"You gotta do a lot more than explaining."
"I know this looks bad, but it's really Dean."
Bobby didn't like this. How did he know Sam hadn't been compromised as well?
"Okay, we're sorry," Sam said. "We should have told you sooner. No excuses. Only the truth. I promise. Can you put me on speaker? "
Bobby pressed the button that switched to speaker and placed it on his desk. "You're on."
"Show Bobby."
Dean jerked. "What? No. You're not the boss of me."
"Dude, you owe him the truth."
Dean glanced at Bobby and froze. Literally froze like a deer in headlights. Bobby didn't think he'd never seen him this panicked, aside from that time he broke down crying when he thought he'd lost that amulet of his when he was thirteen.
It was Dean. Bobby could see it clear as day. Dean, for all his toughness, was a sensitive lot. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and right now, those emotions were pouring all over him.
"Aw, hell." Bobby lowered his shotgun, just a smidge. "What mess you boys in now?"
The phone blipped out for a second before Sam's voice came through even stronger than before. "Something's happened to Dean. We're not sure what, but he's been too proud to tell you."
Dean sent a murderous glare to the phone. "I'm gonna punch your face in."
"Good luck with that," Sam said. "Now, show him."
Ordering Dean around wasn't going to get anywhere. He could be more stubborn than a mule. Besides, Bobby didn't need proof to know what was going on. It wasn't like he was a moron. He just felt like a fool for not putting the whole thing together sooner.
He lowered his gun. "Dixville?"
"A couple days before," Dean muttered.
Bobby nodded. Hindsight was a beautiful thing. The rash. The questions on winged people. The avoidance. The glamour spells. Bobby knew something was wrong. He'd known from day one. He'd known Sam and Dean were involved in something big, but he hadn't suspected it were this big. He'd figured the boys were involved in a spell gone wrong, some angel nonsense, or even a hex of some kind. He'd wondered if Dean had come back funny or changed. Some days he wondered if the two of them weren't a bit touched in the head after all the crap they saw daily. Or, worst case scenario, Dean was covering for Sam over some supernatural fallout.
Maybe it was all just denial.
"Bobby?" Sam and Dean's voices chimed in at the same time.
"Why didn't you tell me from the start?"
Dean jerked his hand toward the gun. "Buck shot is a good reason."
Bobby couldn't argue with that, but didn't think Dean was telling the whole truth. "So, now what?"
"Dean can fill you in on everything. I'm going to go to the West Brighton Mall."
Dean took a step towards the phone, seemingly forgetting about the gun. "What? Without me?"
"Until you get this under control, I don't know where you're going to end up. And your face is everywhere. Best to sit this one out. I'll find The Watcher."
"We don't know who it is," Dean said.
"I'll follow the monsters."
Bobby shook his head. "That's comforting."
He still wasn't a hundred percent sure what was happening with the Watcher business, but he knew enough that all the strange events happening around Sam and Dean were no coincidence.
"Bobby will loan me a car. I'll be there no time flat."
"I got this one. Sit tight." The phone went silent.
Dean's face darkened at the silence. "Son of a bitch!" He kicked a book across the floor.
One some level, Bobby could feel his frustration. Time had changed Sam, and in some ways, none for the better in his book. "Who died and made him boss?"
"Apparently I did." Dean sunk on an empty spot on the couch.
"So I take it those feathers just ain't for show?"
"You don't know the half of it."
He sure didn't. Bobby was fully read on all the kinds of feathered critters mucking up the world, but he wasn't sure how Dean's problem would fit into the scheme of it all. Obviously, he could teleport, and an idiot wouldn't miss that glaring connection to the angel folk. What else Dean could do, Bobby was afraid to ask.
None of it mattered. Sam was Sam, and Dean was Dean. He'd help them find a way out of this mess, and to that, they had to make sure Sam had the right backup.
"No sense pouting," Bobby said. He put the gun down on his desk and looked a concerned Dean in the eyes. "Better start from the beginning so we can find a way to fix this mess."
Note: Sorry for the delay. It's difficult for me to update in a regular fashion. I haven't abandoned the series, though.
