Chapter 9 ~ Bullets

Bobby was busy with the chili on the stove, pouring some more ingredients in before he could add the beans, when he felt someone or something watching him. He knew the feeling well; he wouldn't have been a hunter long if he wasn't able to sense when he was being observed. It had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Since the incident with an injured, broken and possessed Sam, Bobby had started keeping his sawed-off, rock-salt-loaded shotgun with him at all times. He figured a revolver or pistol would be too dangerous, since everyone in the house (meaning him and Dean, and Rufus on occasion) had a trigger finger like they were hunting a wendigo in the woods.

He decided to wait until whoever was watching him sprang into action... but nothing actually happened. For about 30 minutes, he felt eyes on his back - minutes in which he kept asking himself what he should do next. Finally, he reached for the sawed-off in his lap and spun his wheelchair around with a single move of his hand; the finger of his other hand on the trigger.

No one knew how surprised Bobby was to see Sam leaning in the doorway, watching him cook. Despite everything he'd said to Dean so far, he actually hadn't thought that the kid would ever leave his room again.

Sam's face darkened and he frowned, but he didn't flinch.

"Boy, I could've killed you!" Bobby barked, easing his finger off the trigger and putting the shotgun back in his lap.

Sam frowned even more, like he didn't understand. His hazel eyes looked down at the shotgun in Bobby's lap and started to tear up.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Bobby put on a friendly smile, one some folks for sure didn't even know he was capable of. "I just didn't expect you down here, I-uh-" He looked at the younger man for a couple of seconds before continuing. "...Wanna help me here?"

Sam shook his head.

Well, the kid at least understood him.

"Are you hungry?" Bobby wasn't sure what to say. He wished Dean was here. No such luck, though; the older brother had left just a couple of minutes ago.

Sam shook his head.

The older hunter sighed. "Thirsty?" Hopefully he was, otherwise this was going to get pretty awkward. He didn't know how to handle the kid at the moment.

Sam shook his head again.

Remembering that Castiel was supposed to be with Sam, Bobby asked, "Where's Cas?" Sam shrugged. Well... A certain angel needed his butt kicked, that was for sure.

A glorious idea came to the older hunter's mind. "You know what? Rufus installed a TV in the living room. Why don't you watch a movie?" Although he had no clue how to get this new technology to run; the thing didn't even have a knob to switch it on.

The kid looked lost... and the more questions Bobby asked, the more confused Sam seemed to get. Damn...

With a groan, the older man wheeled himself forwards. "You go and watch TV, son. I'll take care of lunch, and when Dean's back, we'll eat." Sam just nodded and let the former hunter pass by with his wheelchair, holding his injured side as he followed him.

"Sit down," Bobby said, once he realized that Sam wouldn't do anything he wasn't told to do. The older man managed to turn the TV on with the clicker.

He heard a wheezing sound behind him as Sam sat down on the old couch. When he turned around, Sam was sitting there, curled up, never letting him out of sight.

Bobby put the remote control on the table in front of the boy, noticing Sam eying one the books on the table in front of him. Bobby had referenced it earlier to tell Rufus something about the hunt he'd left on earlier.

"You go and choose something," Bobby said. "Rufus said something about over fifty channels..." He stopped talking as his adopted son reached for the book and started to flip through it.

Dean knew something was different when he returned with the supplies. Something wasn't right - in fact, something was way beyond 'not right.' And when he stood in front of Bobby's house and heard screams, the color drained from his face.

In one fast motion, Dean dropped the bags and drew his loaded gun.

There was a yell and a loud bump, and then everything went silent inside the house.

Dean took a deep breath before he snuck inside, trying not to step on one of the croaking tiles under the carpet. He was pretty sure the thump had come from the living room.

He unlocked his weapon as silently as possible. Everything was silent - too silent for his liking. A knot started to form in his throat. Bobby should have been downstairs or somewhere in the yard, since he couldn't get upstairs on his own. And Sam, well, Sam was supposed to be asleep or at least in his room, with an angel watching over him.

The older Winchester sensed movement and saw something from the corner of his right eye. Someone - or something - was in the living room.

"Bobby?!" Dean hesitantly called out.

No response.

He pressed his back against the wall next to the door into the living room. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, GO!

Everything happened quickly - too damn quickly. He recognized something tall jumping up from the floor, heard a muffled scream... and then his gun went off before Dean had even realized his finger was pulling the trigger. Then there was a fluttering noise, a flapping trench coat, and an angel knocking Dean's gun out of his hand.

And then... everything went silent and still. All that was left was the struggling of an actress on TV trying not to get ripped apart by Freddy Krueger.

Dean swallowed hard, eyes on the giant sasquatch in the middle of the room.

Sam let the book in his hands drop. He was surprised and overwhelmed by what had just happened, including the burning sensation in his right bicep.

"Sammy?" Dean asked in disbelief as his brother reached for his newest injury.

One second Cas was in front of Dean, and the next he was there to catch Sam before he could fall over when he lost his balance. It was probably shock rather than any serious injury; the younger man had only suffered a small scratch from the bullet that had thankfully missed its mark.

Dean pointed at his brother. "What the hell are you doing down here?" ... and damn it, he could literally see his brother fall apart in front of him after the words were out and the damage was done.

"Are you hurt?" Dean took a step towards his brother, who responded by taking a step back. The older Winchester kept his voice low but serious. "Did I hit you?"

"What the hell is going on in there?!" came a grumpy voice from the entrance of the house. "Sam?! Sam, is that you?"

Sam's breathing accelerated. "Sorry?" he whispered, hazel eyes pleading, as Bobby rolled into the room with his drawn shotgun. "Sorry... so sorry... please..." The younger man's eyes began to water once more.

Dean needed to calm down and he knew it. He tried to compose himself, control his voice, before attempting to go near Sam. He needed to show him that nothing bad had happened, that he had done nothing wrong - well, at least, Sam hadn't done anything wrong.

"Sammy. It's okay... just - let me take a look, okay?" He tried to stay as calm as possible and keep his voice low, but he still sounded too serious to his own ears. "Let me take a look at you. I just wanna make sure I didn't hurt you, kiddo. Please."

Dean took another step towards Sam. Sam took another step backwards, away from his brother and the angel at his side.

Barely two yards away now, Dean reached out towards his brother. "C'mon, let me see." He added what he was sure was a pretty bad fake smile to his words. "Let me see, and then we'll go and get lunch. Bobby made chili."

It was taking the older Winchester everything he had not to smash his brother's head against the wall. It took everything in him not to move over to his little brother and punch him right in the face, just for being who he was right now.

Because his Sam - his Sam would've given a response, even when he had called out for Bobby. His Sam wouldn't have let himself get nearly shot by Dean.

It had been a damn freaking movie. A movie had nearly made him shoot his little brother. Just a damn freaking horror movie.

Dean was on the edge. He was worn out, tired and actually starving to death right now. Why the hell was his brother even watching that? What the hell was he even doing downstairs? Dean was glad that his little brother had decided to come downstairs. It was just his timing that was horrible.

Dean sat beside his brother on the couch, watching TV. This time the movie playing was Finding Nemo. Sam was still sniffling and shaking from it all - the gunshot, the pain from the bullet that had clipped his bicep, and then Dean's harsh words. But despite that, he seemed comfortable, curled up on the couch, head in his big brother's lap, both hands wrapped around his thighs.

The older sibling couldn't help but smile. It was weird having his younger brother again like this, snuggling and cuddling like the world was going to end - well, the world was going to end...but they had stopped cuddling when Sam finally started school, and they'd never since been that close physically.

Dean pulled the blanket he'd brought Sam back at the hospital over his brother's shoulders, wondering if this would ever end. Was it possible for Sam to get over this?

Would he ever get his old Sam back?

"He's okay, Dean." Cas stood stock-still beside them, like a lamp waiting to be switched on. "I fixed it."

Dean just nodded, letting his finger run through Sam's hair and stroking the bangs away from his face. "Thanks, Cas." He let out a deep sigh. Why did everything have to be so messed up?

Castiel nodded. "I have to go, Dean. But if you need me, just call. Do you understand?" The older hunter nodded again and looked gratefully at the angel.

Right after Cas left, Bobby wheeled into the room with a tray on his lap. Three smoking bowls of Singer's Special Chili sat on it, plus two beers and one Coke.

Bobby's gaze fell on the younger Winchester. "After dinner, I think we should empty all the loaded weapons."

Dean nodded. Oh, hell yeah. He felt guilty. In fact, he felt damn bad... nauseous, and the start of a headache coming on. He was tired, very tired, but he knew he couldn't leave his brother just for a couple of hours' sleep - not in a different room, anyway.

"It's okay, Sam, huh?" Dean said quietly. "You were scared?"

Sam blinked his tears away before he sat back up, wiping his nose on the arm of his hoodie. He didn't respond, just looked at Dean with sorrow-filled hazel eyes. Oh god, he felt so damn sorry for everything...

"It's okay to be scared." Dean knew he sounded like he was talking to a five-year-old who'd skinned his knee. He still wasn't sure what kind of Sam Winchester he was dealing with - how far his mind reached, what things he understood and what he didn't. "I was scared, too."

The demon choked on the mixture of holy water and rock salt mix that Dean had forced down its throat. The bastard tried to scream, but in its place came a bubbling noise. And Dean Winchester was just warming up.

"Tell me, bitch." Dean held Ruby's knife in his hand as he circled the possessed woman.

"I told you!" the demon hissed as it gurgled. "I don't know what plans they had. Hell, no one knows. Lucifer's on their heels - he's going to destroy them for hurting his vessel. It's none of your business anymore, Winchester."

Dean walked around the chair once again. The demon was struggling, straining against the straps of leather across her arms, feet, legs and torso.

She was a pretty girl, surely not older than thirty. But Dean knew... he couldn't exorcise the girl. She was already too damaged from the blessed iron nails, cuts and bruises. She would die anyways. The hunter just hoped the girl inside this body couldn't feel any of it.

The demon giggled. "I heard a lot of things downstairs. I heard how your brother begged - screamed - for mercy. At the end, he couldn't even recognize what was happening to him. He didn't even realize he was possessed. I heard he was screaming on the inside, though. Honestly, Dean, I thought a Winchester wouldn't break that easily."

"You son of a bitch," Dean singsonged, keeping his voice low and emotionless. "I know you're lying." He grinned dangerously, swallowing down the urge to kill this demon bastard right then and there. "The one I had for breakfast, he told me a whole lot more. I killed him because I was in a good mood after I was done with him. You, bitch... you're not making me happy right now. I don't think I should kill you; I think I should just send your ass straight back to Hell." The hunter glared at his captive, running the blade of his knife over the possessed woman's cheek.

The demon looked terrified by the threat. "No, no, please - they'd know I talked to you. The things they do... it's hell."

Ignoring the demon's words, Dean carried on. "I know you know more than the last one. He told me so. You're a trader, a crossroads demon - practically a walking newspaper of Hell, aren't you?"

"I-I - I don't know what you're talking about." She was panting now.

"You know everything that happens downstairs." Dean began another circle around the chair.

"I know most of it, but not everything. I know about you and your brother. We knew you guys split up after you exorcised that demon in Arizona. We got a direct order not to touch the vessels. But some of us, well," she grinned knowingly and her voice went soft, "some of us weren't very excited about the idea of Lucifer and Michael walking free, looking for their vessels and... stuff. Some of us want things to stay as it is. Some of us don't want this fight, not in our lifetime. Some of us just want to mess with God's sandbox." She took a breath. "Where would I get my deals from when this world ends, when there are no souls left to collect?"

Dean stopped behind her and ran the blade down her neck, keeping it on her throat. "Spill."

"They captured your brother to kill you. They possessed him because it would be a lot easier to get close to you."

"Tell me something I don't already know." Dean tried to hide his anger and fear, not letting it show in his voice.

"Okay, okay. Something you don't know-" she smirked again evilly "-is that I heard your brother should be dead... Is he?"

Dean was glad she couldn't see all the emotions turning his gut upside-down right now.

"Is he dead?" she asked again.

"He's doing well," Dean answered, letting a smirk swing in his voice. "He's pretty much alive, to be honest."

She laughed sweetly. "I knew those guys would mess it up."

"Mess what up?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I heard that Sam wouldn't last much longer than you. Actually, I expected you to have killed each other by now." She chuckled. "Since he's still alive, I'm guessing you honestly think he's going to survive this. But the things I've been told..." The demon stopped as if she had burned her tongue.

Silence...

Dean gave her a few more seconds, then started the exorcism without warning.

"Stop, no! STOP, Winchester!"

Dean glared at her. "Tell me what you've been told, bitch, or I'll slaughter your vessel and send you straight back to hell."

She was panting again, and then her eyes went black. "It's much more fun this way, don't you think, Dean? Hearing how you failed, how you weren't able to save your little brother from all of this? Watching as your brother will be torn to shreds by no one else but himself? He'll destroy himself while you watch." She put on a winning smile. "It's so sweet when you suffer, Winchester. Sweeter than the rack that belongs to you in Hell, boy. Maybe I won't live long enough to watch... but man, it's definitely worth it."

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. He would've liked to stab this bitch right now and here, but no... She actually hadn't told him anything new except that Sam shouldn't have survived the event over a week ago, and that he was supposed to 'destroy himself.' What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

Sam's state wasn't that bad. He'd improved. Dean hadn't seen him yet today, but he was sure he would improve further, slowly but surely. He was eating more, moving around Bobby's house - well, except for the basement - and was actually helping Bobby with some stuff in his library. He still had his moments when something unexpected happened or someone yelled, but Dean didn't consider that a problem any longer. It would go away and improve, just like the rest did.

Two hours later, the older Winchester finally began to chant the exorcism spell in a low voice. But just before he uttered the last words, he stopped short and slammed Ruby's knife into the demon's chest instead.