Present Day...
Sam's bones almost ripped out of his skin when a bound book skittered and slammed on the hospital room floor. Seconds later, feet shuffled heavily, squealing rubber boot soles against the stark, super waxed floor. Sam's eyes snapped open, finding the only change in the room was Bobby gathering scattered papers from the laminate flooring.
"Sorry, I was just going throfugh some stuff. Tried to balance too much stuff."
"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!"
"Trying to find a way to save Dean. And since you drifted off, I thought I'd let you sleep." The seasoned hunter stole a brief look at Sam before focusing more on the brightly colored paper from the stacks of information he gathered. "Took at trip to my place to collect a few things." He quickly stuffed the crayon drawing among the other papers in his possession before Sam had a chance to look at it.
"Good of you to abandon us."
"Who blew out your pilot light? You seriously need to get a grip."
"Go to…"
"Hell? Don't you think Dean paid that price already! We just got him back and you know how that affected him. You sure that's those are words you want to say to me."
"I….I didn't… I JUST GOT HIM BACK!"
"Think that makes my point. You're wound so tight, you've got no choice but to snap." Having no intentions of spending the rest of his life tip-toeing around Sam's mood or trying not to piss him off, Bobby knew that was going to be almost impossible. The days turned to weeks turned to months. The longer Dean lingered in this state, Sam dwindled too. "But, I managed to get some work done. I owe it to y'all to at least try."
"Why do you care! You don't owe us!" Sam's voice sharpened.
"Sure I do."
"I'm pretty sure you repaid dad a million times for whatever…" Sam held Bobby's stare and waited for a reply.
"Don't owe your dad anything." Watching Sam cope was every bit as painful as watching Dean cope with everything at such a young age. It had been exceptionally hard, even for a seasoned hunter like Bobby who'd seen enough pain to harden him. Still even in the early days, he had no immunity to the anguish of that lost child. "It was always for you and Dean. I'm repaying a debt from years ago. Now, we need to focus on what we need to do for your brother."
"THEY WANT ME TO TURN OFF THE MACHINE!! How can I do that?"
"What would Dean want? I…. I…."
"He's in there! I know it…. He …He has to be."
"I ran some things and did some research…Nobody has seen anything remotely like this…. No comas like it in recorded medical journals…heck even online… I couldn't find a single damn thing remotely like it. None have been like this."
"So you learned nothing. That's a big help!"
Ignoring the bitter, forlorn tone of Sam's voice, he continued. "Found some research on doctors doing process Oriented Coma Work. Couple of psychotherapists think coma patients are capable of subtle signals to the outside world- sometimes barely. We just need to see what ways Dean tries."
"But he doesn't move…. Blink or anything."
"He's moved his fingers."
"Reflexes…" The youngest Winchester reasoned. "How will this wake him UP?"
"If we can make contact maybe we can reach a decision."
"THERE IS NO DECISION. This is not your fight"
"It's not… since when? Hmmm. And we have other means available to us. I found this local guy, named Wain Etchers- a psychic."
"You looked for psychics to help Dean?"
"No… found an article where he helped some family with coma patients when I was doing the research. Name kept popping up. … Thought we would give it a try since it's not too farfetched for us."
"How do you know this guy is credible?'
"Did a background. It was all on the up and up. Multiple stories where this guy helped the cops, kidnapped victim…so I gave him a call. Searched his names and got more hits than if I looked for porn. I know…"
"Just say it, you think Dean's gone."
"No. This coma stinks to me… it just feels wrong. Can't you feel it? I just can't believe he would get this bad and not…."
"It's been wrong since the beginning and I don't know how to help him…"
"Let's try to find out."
December 1989- 3 days later…
"Where is your family, Bobby?" Sam asked innocently.
"Gone…it's just me."
"Dean, I have an idea….Help me spell…" He leaned closer, whispering some secret plan, excitedly. His little body almost bouncing with shakes of happiness.
"You're not giving that to him."
"Yeppers."
"I said no."
"Spell it, please." Sam begged.
"Fine, but I said no." Dean scribbled words on the page as Sam whispered. "Happy?"
"Yes. Can I give…"
"No…" Dean folded the colored paper, shoving it in his pocket.
"But, I wanna…
"What about you boys? Where's the rest of your family?"
Dean eyed him suspiciously. "Around."
"Dad and us."
"Sam, shut your pie hole." Dean ordered, handing Sam another piece of paper to color.
"Why?"
"Cause I said so."
Bobby raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. Ever since he came to cabin, Dean and he had been in a kind of dance. He tolerated Bobby's presence, but was not thrilled with that prospect. At times it seemed he might warm up, mainly when Sam pulled the cuteness, but the next second Dean was distant and challenging. It seemed the closer Bobby tried to get, the farther away Dean wanted him.
He could feel the tension radiate whenever he got too close physically or asked too many questions. Mainly Bobby gave Dean a wide berth, except when necessary. He didn't know what he was going to do when it came time to haul these boys out of here. The more time that passed, it seemed that their father wasn't going to come home. Secretly, he wondered if the man didn't just up and dump them.
"But, he's our friend."
"No, he's not." The elder boy looked pointedly at Sam, who squirmed under the scrutiny and shifted slightly closer to Dean to gain approval. He whispered, "But… but he doesn't have anyone either. I like him. He plays with me."
"You know what happened when Dad trusted another adult." Dean muttered back.
"I member."
"Remember," Dean corrected.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. We have to rely on each other."
"I still like him."
"Well, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"Stow it."
Trying hard not to chuckle, Bobby took position in the farthest corner of the room, sitting quietly. After a few day, he had a chance to explore the cabin unnoticed, finding little of interest save one thing. He silently cracked open a handwritten journal, reading the bound book he found stuffed underneath a mattress. As amused as he had been by the brother's slight disagreement, he was horrified by the words on these pages; and he couldn't help but let out a quiet and painful sob. The Winchester boys didn't seem to notice. His eyes flew over the pages in disbelief, finding darkness and evil splattered on the pages. Worse, it told of the damage these things did to the Winchester family.
The more he read, the more he sank in despair remembering Marcus. Instantly, his mind translated that if Marcus lived through his mother's demonic possession, than his child would be in pain like Dean. His mind reeled at how wrong he had been. This child, hurt and lost, still had the drive for hope, even after going through all the things splayed upon the pages of this journal. How could he ignore hope when it was all this kid had? This world had let sweet son and darling wife bleed to death in his arms and left this child to struggle in pain daily.
Suddenly he realized why these kids were hidden in some back woods cabin and why they were so resistant to outsiders. The damn demons, the one who took his family or one just like it, had stolen these boy's lives. How they kept any innocence at all was the greatest miracle Bobby had ever seen. Through all that pain and bitterness, they still had love for life. Then a worse thought clamored inside the crevices of his mind. If their father went after one of these creatures, than he may not be coming back for a real reason. Sam's and Dean's father may have met a sticky end.
His mind reeled about what he would do if the man never showed up. Surely, if he turned in two lost kids, that would mean separation, even if it was only for a short while. Dean would take to that like fire to gasoline. He couldn't let that happen. If he knew- learned- one thing, those boys were lost without each other. Whatever it took, he wouldn't let them suffer that final injustice. Lost in thought, Bobby didn't notice Dean and Sam approaching.
"Why are you crying?" Sam asked, reaching out as Dean hobbled after him on his injured leg, pulling Sam back.
"Cause I know what happened to you now. I know about you mother." His voice rang like a beacon of calm.
"SHUT UP! You don't know anything!" Dean screamed bitterly.
"Mom died."
"But the dem…"
"SHUT UP! Sam's he's a liar!"
Holding up John's journal, Bobby reasoned. "It's okay. I read…"
All Dean did was stare, froze in fear as he advanced towards Bobby. There was a petrified expression on his face, followed by water from his eyes and a hitch in his breath. By the time he reached the man, he was crying bitterly in pain from more than his ankle "Sam, get out of here!"
"But, Dean!"
"GET TO BED NOW!" His scream shattered louder than anything Dean had ever said. Fright stained his words.
Crying and flying to obey Dean, Sam took off confused, hurt, and disappointed that he did something wrong.
"SHUT THE DOOR!" When the door closed, suddenly Dean's voice changed from frightened to angry. "My dad will kill you for this."
"You're dad… he's out here looking for something. He's got to be crazy to do it in these storms."
"He's not crazy."
"The stuff in here... your Dad…"
"I know he isn't."
"It's real "
"Hold on… hold on spitfire."
"I saw it too... you leave my Dad…" Dean opened his mouth to say more, but shut it with a grimace and a gulp, that the words he just said pained him greatly.
"You saw her?"
"DON'T TELL DAD! If you even say anything to Sam, I'll kill you."
Bobby looked back at Dean, who was talking a bigger game than he would ever be capable of. The tough guy image he tried so hard to maintain had slipped away and all Bobby could see was a hurt and vulnerable boy who wanted to make it all better for his family.
"THAT BELONGS TO DAD!" Dean made a grab for the book, ripping it from Bobby's hands, falling in the process. Dean's mind closed off from the real world, leaving only his father's basic instructions. Inside a voice told him to keep their secrets and don't let anyone in. It was a common defense that had helped him survive many horrible things almost intact. But even that training was failing, and it meant that he was on the edge of acting like a trapped animal. No one before knew Dean's most guarded secret and part of it had just slipped too easily from his lips. Sam was right, Dean was hopeful to trust again and this man seemed like a friend. He knew better, told himself- told Sam- that adults meant trouble. But, for some reason Dean wanted someone to be his friend. He had never had one since his mother died. That's what he got for letting his guard down. Now, he had to protect all he had in this world.
When the hunter tried to help Dean get up from the floor, he would have no part of it. He had let his mother down and he'd be damned if he let anyone else get hurt. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he yelled animalistic as he crawled on the floor, kicking out wildly, clutching the journal. While his mind screamed to protect his family at all cost, his body was fueled by desperate adrenaline.
The strangled, pained voice of the child had been so unexpected that Bobby went momentarily dumb struck as he watched a small boy madly scamper away from him. "It's alright, you're safe. I know about the things out there. How they destroy everything they touch." He tried to reassure as calmly as he could. Bobby had opened up a hornet's nest. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated calmly, taking a step closer to him.
Dean swung out a skillful fist and shouted, "Stay away! Don't touch me!"
"I know it hurts. Believe me, I know."
"SHUT UP!"
Bobby froze, watching the boy flee towards Sam's bedroom.
Quickly a small boy peered out now. "Dean? I'm sorry."
The older boy wobbled to his feet, glancing from Sam to Bobby, both with too many questions on their faces. With as much speed as he could muster, he ran, scrambling towards the closet, slamming it shut to block out not only things he didn't want to answer, but the pain he felt closing in on him again.