7:15 AM
"Wait in the car," Sam told her as they stopped in front of the house.
"But Sam!" She flung open her door.
"He said wait in the car so you wait in the car, mutt," Dean seconded as he opened his door and got out.
"Fu-!"
Sam turned and she snapped her mouth shut on the profanity. "June, please. Bobby needs to talk to us, and he'll be pissed if we surprise him with you. He's lived this life long enough to be extremely cautious."
"He's paranoid, you mean."
"It's not paranoia when the monsters are really after you, Toto," Dean muttered.
"Yes, he is," Sam answered over the top of him. "He's also the only family we have left. We'll be fine. Just wait here in the car till I come get you."
She stuck her bottom lip out, but she slammed her door closed. Sam got out and walked up to the porch.
"You think she'll stay in there?" Dean asked.
Sam shot a glance over his shoulder. "She'll stay. We'll probably have to listen to her bitch about it for a month, but she'll stay."
"Hope you're right, Cesar," Dean scoffed. "Cause if she comes chargin' in..."
"We're out one dog," Sam finished. He knocked on the door.
After the clicking of multiple locks, Bobby opened it. "Hey boys. Thanks for shaking a tail."
"Yeah, you got it," Dean said.
"What have you found out?" Sam asked, leading the way inside.
"It's a big demon problem. Real big. Go on downstairs." Bobby jerked his head towards the back of the house and Sam led the way through.
Bobby stepped in front of him to open the door to the panic room. "Go on inside. I wanna show you something."
Sam walked inside, almost to the middle, before he stopped and glanced around the circular room. "All right. So, uh, what's the big demon problem?"
"You are," Bobby said. "This is for your own good."
Sam spun around, shock on his face. Dean stepped back as Bobby slammed the door and locked it before Sam could take more than two strides towards them.
Sam looked out at them through the barred window, confused and uneasy. "Guys? Hey- hey. What?"
Bobby calmly closed and locked the window.
Sam's strained voice made it through the iron. "This isn't funny. Guys! Hey! Guys?"
Bobby turned and walked away. Dean couldn't make himself follow. Not yet.
"Okay. Let me out. This is not funny." Sam's voice was tight, but calm.
"Damn straight." He opened the window.
Confused hazel eyes stared back. "Dean, come on. This is crazy."
"No. Not until you dry out."
"What? I thought we settled this already. Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. I get that now, trust me. Just open the door."
"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you lied to me over and over again. I get it now. You couldn't help it. You are powerless against your addiction," he chanted. "Your life has become unmanageable—"
Sam scoffed. "I'm not some junkie."
"Really? I guess I've just imagined how strung out you've been lately."
Sam's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?"
Dean shrugged. "If it smells like a duck."
A fist impacted against the iron. Sounded like it probably hurt.
"Dean! Damn it, we worked all this out yesterday! Killing Lilith is all that matters, and I can't do that locked in a damn panic room! Or are you so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?"
"Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby and I will kill her. But not with you."
"You're not serious."
"Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the Apocalypse." He reached up to the window shutter.
Panic widened Sam's eyes again. "Dean, look—no, wait—"
Dean closed the shutter and turned his back.
"Come back here. Dean!"
He flinched at the sound of flesh against iron again and made himself climb those basement stairs.
"Let me out of here!" Anger.
"Dean! Let me out of here! Let me out!" Fury.
"Dean!" Disbelief.
"JUUUNE!" Desperation.
Dean closed the basement door on it, but the echo seemed to linger. Higher pitched. More frantic.
"SAAAM!"
"Oh shit!" He charged through the house, hearing June's footsteps pounding across the floor, a wordless shout from Bobby. He rounded the living room door to see Bobby blast June with a sawed-off, point-blank.
"Ohgodohgod!" He skidded to his knees beside her, turned her over.
Her eyes were rolled up into her head and blood welled up from at least a couple dozen pellet wounds across her chest.
"She prob'ly ain't dead," Bobby grunted, and jacked another shell into the ten-gauge. "Rock salt."
"Rock salt?" Dean blurted.
"Thought some of Sam's new friends might come kick up a fuss. You know this little idjit?"
Before he could answer, June let out a long, low whine and stirred in his arms.
"You were supposed to stay in the car until we came and got you, you stupid mutt!" Dean bellowed into her confused face.
She writhed against his grip and he might as well have been trying to hold onto a greased bull.
June scrabbled to her feet and jerked him up onto his by the collar of his jacket. "Sam, Dean! He's in trouble!"
"He's ok, June!" Dean made a grab for her and caught the end of her ponytail as she made a break towards the basement.
The shotgun blast right over their heads froze them both in their tracks.
"You wanna clue me in, boy?"
"What have you done to Sam?" June demanded, and twisted towards Bobby with vicious intent.
Dean yanked her down to the floor hair first. "SIT, Ubu. And don't speak."
He looked up at Bobby's cocked eyebrow and cocked shotgun. "June, this is Bobby Singer. Bobby, this rabid specimen is June Reed. Sam's new pet."
"Excuse me?" Bobby's eyebrow stayed cocked, but at least the shotgun lowered.
June rose to her feet, leaving Dean with a handful of hair. He shook it off his fingers as she pulled herself to full imperious height and addressed Bobby like the frickin' Queen of Everything.
"I am Canis Major of the Canes Caelorum. Why have you locked up my Hunter, Mr. Singer?"
"Canes Caelorum? Ain't you supposed to be extinct?"
"The rumors of our demise, yada yada WHY THE FUCK IS SAM LOCKED UP?"
"You didn't tell her?"
"Would you have?"
Bobby shrugged. "Cain't make any difference now."
Dean put his hands on June's shoulders. She tolerated it this time. "June, sweetheart, he's ok."
"No, he's not. He's wiggin' right the hell out down there, and you know it!"
"Exactly. June, he's sworn the stuff off before. Shit, two or three times now, and he always goes back to it when he gets the shakes. He's got to go into lockdown, June. It's the only thing left. The only way we make sure he comes clean."
"But he can't be alone, Dean! It's not safe! He's wide open for—"
"He's safe," Bobby interjected. "Nothin's gonna get to him down there, girl. Go on, take her down and show her. That's all that will convince her."
"Please, Dean! I have to see him!"
"Feeling him's not enough?"
"No!" she burst out, the syllable almost sounding like a sob. "No, it's worse! Please!"
Fat tears were standing in her eyes, and there was no doubt this time they were genuine. "Come on then," he said and led the way to the basement.
"June?" Bobby said as he followed behind.
"Yes?" She didn't look back at him.
"If you open that door, I'll shoot ya. And it won't be with salt this time."
She nodded. They got half-way down the basement stairs before she spun and sprinted back up, ducking Bobby on the narrow treads like she'd passed right through him.
"What the?" Bobby grunted and they both went after her. She was clutching onto the door facing and was a really nasty shade of gray-white. Dean reached out to touch her, thankful all over again they didn't grok.
"Lock me up!" she pleaded. "Lock me up! LockmeuplockmeupLOCK ME UP!"
He settled for grabbing her and shaking till her eyes rolled like a doll's. "JUNE! Focus! What's going on?"
"He's trying to force me to let him out! He's pulling at me—clawing at me! Dean, lock me up! I can't fight him off for long!"
His hold turned to one that would rip her arm out of its socket if she struggled. She didn't; in fact, she flashed him a look of desperate gratitude.
"Can he do that?" Bobby asked him.
"Oh hell yeah. Our little Sammy, Master of Puppets. Well, Puppet."
"How strong are you, gal?"
June didn't respond, staring down the basement stairs, panting. She was getting slippery with sweat. He wouldn't be able to hang on long if she bolted.
"I'm pretty sure she could bench a Buick if she had to."
"Come on." Bobby let the way out of the house and into the salvage yard. Dean followed close, alternating between supporting June when her knees sagged and dragging her when she couldn't fight off at least a token amount of resistance.
Bobby detoured just long enough at one of the sheds to wrap himself in enough locks and chain to look like Jacob friggin' Marley. He carried a wicked-looking pronged choke collar and a heavy-duty dog harness in his hand. "Over there."
He pointed to where a derelict bulldozer squatted on rotted flat tires, its paint more rust than yellow.
June shook and panted and sweated and puked and Bobby ducked a few haymakers, but between the two of them they managed the deed.
Her shrieks followed them back to the house. Sam's muffled screams met them inside.