Hello all! Thanks for coming back for another instalment! So, it was a close race but the winner is... JITTERY! :D I hope you enjoy and thanks sooo much for your continuing support and lovely enthusiasm for this, I appreciate it as always!

He has watched them, and can see that they are each unravelling right in front of him; being undone slow and sure like, and it is a painful process to witness. If they don't do something, and soon, they are both gonna be swallowed down and spit out like a bad trip to the buffet line.

One shakes and fidgets while he waits to get his next hit; the other sputters and gasps and fights with memories of Hell itself. They think he doesn't notice, that they are being stealthy like god damn ninjas or some shit, but he ain't stupid. And he wasn't born yesterday. He knows them. He knows the life they have led and the deals they have made. He knows the guilt and anguish that swirls around them like a tornado, as it waits silently to strike the final blow. It threatens to disintegrate them into a whirlwind of broken and bloody pieces; threatens to scatter them across the ground and wash them away in the torrent of the tidal wave, as their levees finally splinter and crack. They each wear their own torment, like some kind of fricked up version of a boy scout badge on their sleeve. And it is going to demolish them both.

One can't stop himself from craving it; from using it to feel powerful and strong, to try and exact the Winchester brand of revenge. Revenge for his brother. Revenge on the bitch that laughed and cackled merrily as his brother was torn apart right in front of his eyes. He gets it, really, and if he was in the same position he would try to send that whore back to the blackened pit she crawled up from just as eagerly. But the method is tearing him apart. He may not realize it but the signs are all there. The constant movement, the panicked looks and the inability to sit still for one damn minute are clues to someone jonesing for the sauce.

The other can't admit to his anguish, can't talk about whatever happened in the pit. But all the jokes and sarcasm can't erase it, it is written and painfully etched all over his face; in the bags that hang down from his once sparkling eyes; in the way he hangs his head low when he thinks he is alone; in the way he has found solace in and has become best friends with Jack. He may not realize it but the signs are all there. The constant movement, the panicked looks and the inability to sit still for one damn minute are all clues to someone trying desperately to keep one step ahead of the nightmares, the flashbacks and the horror of Hell itself. The way he runs head-on into the next case without so much as a catnap; the way he drives twelve hours or more straight; the way he twitches and sweats and groans in his sleep are classic symptoms of someone grappling to keep his sanity intact.

He takes his hat off and rubs a hand over his scalp. He chuckles at the thought that each of those boys has added to his receding hairline, his own lack of a decent night's sleep, and the ever increasing need for a good stiff drink. Hell, he's grabbed the bottle more often than ever before and each of those boys has had a different role in that.

As he sits and stews; as he closes his eyes and revels in the sweetness of the whiskey as its aroma reaches his nose, he stops as the glass rattles against his teeth. He opens his weary eyes to take notice of his hands. Damn it, they are shaking, and the bundle of nerves that twist and tighten in his gut reach an almost fever pitch. He sighs deep and slow to try and calm the storm of pent up emotions building up inside him. He throws back the amber liquid and relishes the burn as it slides down his throat and tries to warm the coldness that has infiltrated his soul.

He slams the glass on the desk, mutters to himself about Hell and demons and the damn apocalypse and those stubborn idjits, and starts to pour another round.

"Bobby? You okay man?"

Shit, his whole body jumps as he is plucked from his inner dialogue and thrust back into the present. If he hadn't already finished the tilt of the bottle into the glass, he's sure he would be wearing it. He looks up and sees them. One looks like your basic strung out drug addict, the other like he hasn't slept for the last thirty years or so.

But, mixed in with the sleep deprivation and the fidgets, he sees something else. He sees both their faces filled with concern. For him. Damn it. He clears his throat and looks down at the desk as the sting of tears threaten to explode from his eyes and spill out. But the hell if he is gonna give these two one more reason to self-destruct.

"Kinda jumpy aren't ya old man? Maybe you should have yourself a little siesta dude, you look beat."

"Shut up smart ass. Get your butts over here, I think I got us a lead."

A flicker of a smirk and a wringing of the hands from one. A false grin, a nod, and another well placed smart ass comment from the other. Typical. The boys plop themselves in their usual positions across from him and, as he dives into his book and begins his spiel about what seal is next on their crusade to save the world, the realization hits him hard.

Shit. He ain't no different than these two. Another shake of his hand and another grab for his glass confirms it. And if he knows that they are putting up a well-crafted front, then they know he is busy doing the same thing. Because he ain't stupid, and neither are they. Balls. He looks up from his book and stares into their eyes. There is an unspoken bond there. The knowledge and acceptance that all three of them are teetering on the edge of the precipice; that all three are one glass, one drink, or one nightmare away from plummeting into the world of hopelessness and despair.

Damn this life.

"Alright then Bobby, you have our undivided attention. How are we gonna try and save the world?"

Okay, down to business. Sure, the fidgeting is still there, along with the haunted looks and the casual grip around the glass, but they will continue on as they always have. They will each face their own torments head on; will do whatever they can and whatever it takes to spare the rest of humanity from being sucked down into Hell right along with them, even if it destroys them all.

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed! :D

K: Kidnap; Killer; Kamikaze; Karate