PRESENT OR PAST?

(I am not a mechanic, I apologise to all mechanics! Please don't hate me!)

The package had been left right outside the back door. Bobby stared at it in disbelief: somebody had come right up to his house during the night and left a parcel right outside the goddam back door! A package addressed simply to 'Dean Winchester.' No address, no 'return to sender', just the two words written in an almost calligraphic flourish.

The older man sidestepped it cautiously and went to check on Rumsfeld. He was relieved as well as irritated to find the dog alive but asleep in his kennel, the clue of what had happened in the incriminating bony remains of a t-bone steak beside the snoring animal.

"Fat lot of use you were, ya good-for nuttin…. I may have you to protect me from monsters, but I don't expect you to let people walk right past you instead!" He left him to sleep the drugged meal off and retraced his steps to the house.

He wasn't surprised to see that Dean was already up and grabbing some coffee from the kitchen when he opened the door. Since the revelation about him had come out, Dean had spent just about every waking hour working on the Impala in some form or other, with the exception of yesterday of course. Bobby could understand both the boys' point of view: Dean was desperate to get the car finished because of the watching eyes on him, while Sam was now getting increasingly paranoid about his brother being out of his sight for the same reason. Today was going to be interesting and not in a good way.

"This came for you." He held out the parcel and watched the other's reaction.

Dean glanced at it then did a double take as he obviously recognised the small but fancy handwriting. His face noticeably paled but he said nothing as he took the package from Bobby and ripped into the wrapping without hesitation.

Inside was a carved, lidded wooden box. And inside the box, nestling in red velvet padded luxury was a seductively curved dagger in a beautifully ornate scabbard, the blade sharp and shining as if it had only just been created from the high quality silver that had been used, and engraved with Islamic symbols all down the thicker edge; the ivory handle was interlaid with ebony; the silver and wooden scabbard carved and engraved on every inch with geometric patterns. The whole thing was weighted beautifully to be of maximum use for least effort in the hand. It was an item of exquisite quality, obviously rare, and presumably very expensive.

"Shit." Bobby barely caught the word that escaped amidst Dean's deep inhale of breath.

"Is it from him?"

"Not a word to Sam. Please Bobby." And Dean was screwing up the packaging quickly and hurrying out of the door to burn it in the portable incinerator. Bobby stood at the open door and watched him catch it with his lighter, torn between the two feelings of being desperate to know and wishing that he never would at the same time. Only when he was sure that it had all been destroyed did Dean return to the kitchen and begin to examine the blade.

"Was there a note?" But Bobby already knew the answer even before the younger man glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. No note had been needed: whatever the message was, it had got through.

And then Sam was there, yawning and stretching his long arms and looking reproachfully at his brother. "I told you to wake me: I'm coming to help you with the car from now on. What's that?"

Dean glared at Bobby momentarily as he held out the box. "Just came in the mail. Must have been following me around the country for a while."

Sam put down his full mug of coffee and took the box with a frown. His eyes lit up at the beauty of the weapon within and his voice turned reverent. "What is it?"

Bobby bit down his sigh as Dean's face immediately relaxed into a wide grin at the sight of his little brother's appreciation of the dagger. "You like it, Sammy? It's a Persian Zirah-bhonk, originally created to go though chainmail but used by an Iman a couple of centuries ago for the annual Eid el-Adha. Dad was trying to negotiate to get it, but that was way before he disappeared even. I'd forgotten about it. But it should kill most things, being holy and silver. He must have really called in a few favours to find it."

"Oh it's beautiful! Look at the workmanship on it. And the history! How old is it?"

"Not sure. Might be a few centuries, perhaps back to the Crusades even. But it'll do us!"

"Oh, it's more than 'it'll do'! How on earth did dad manage to get hold of something like this? He must have called in more than a few favours!"

Dean shrugged, sent another warning glance at Bobby. "We'll probably never know. You want to research it while I start on the car?"

"Yes. No!" Sam had been distracted but not quite enough. "I don't like you out there on your own, Dean. Not now."

"How's about I help him, Sam? The work will go quicker with two of us, and, how do I say this? You're useless when it comes to engines!"

Despite himself Sam laughed before immediately returning his appreciative attention to the dagger. "Okay. I'll bring you both out drinks in a while. Thanks Bobby. Wow, I can't believe dad managed to find this!"

"I can't believe your dad did either, boy." Bobby murmured to Dean as they both went out the door.

But he didn't ask and the other didn't tell. Although Bobby was desperate to ask: not just about this, but what had happened the previous night. Because something had happened, he had heard the boys arguing about it. No, he had heard Dean trying to argue, and Sam was having none of it, whatever 'it' was.

But it had been a strange conversation.

He had expected a full-scale argument to break out when Sam had managed to get himself calm enough to follow Dean into the house the previous day. But instead he had simply gone to sit at the kitchen table and watched while Dean had stood at the kitchen sink and scrubbed to remove the rest of the oil and grease on his hands.

Neither had spoken for a long time, and neither had Bobby. Not until Dean had felt he had got the worst off, and the obvious tension in his still bare back had mostly dissipated, and he finally felt enough in control of himself to turn and face Sam, wiping his hands on a filthy old towel as he did.

Only then had Sam broken the silence. "Is that…Him… in the car?"

His brother sighed and remained silent for a moment: "I'm not sure, Sam. He has a limo like that, but so does…. It might not have been."

"It could have been this other man that you mentioned in the bar?"

Dean shrugged but didn't answer.

"But whoever it is, they've been watching you since we got back here? Dean?"

The other studied his dirty and broken fingernails. "Yeah. Not all the time. Just occasionally, just to let me know they were there. I didn't want to worry you."

Sam bit at his bottom lip so hard that Bobby could see a small trickle of blood escape his mouth. "It's my job to worry about you, Dean. And I do! I can't bear the thought of you being hurt, especially not by people like that! I won't fucking let them hurt you! But please! You have to help me: just tell me when something's worrying you. Please."

"Yeah okay Sammy."

The younger brother sighed in exasperation and exchanged a look with Bobby: they both recognised the insincerity in that promise. Sam decided to leave it for the moment. "Look. Go and get a shower. Call that it for the day. I'll help Bobby get dinner ready."

"I left the hood up on Baby, Sam. And my tools are all out."

"I put them back for you." Bobby finally spoke up. "And your car's secure."

The glance Dean flashed him wasn't a grateful one, but he went upstairs to the bathroom without any more argument. His younger brother sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. There was a long silence in the kitchen.

Finally: "What do'ya fancy then, Sam?" as Bobby opened the cupboards. He glanced around to see why there was no response, only to find himself suddenly on his own. Grabbing out some packets, he set some water to boil. Then curiosity had gotten the better of him and he followed the two boys up the stairs.

Dean had turned the water off by the time he had crept to the top of them. Bobby paused there as he could see Sam waiting right outside the bathroom. The moment Dean opened the door he was grabbed by one of his brother's large hands and marched with forceful determination to the small bedroom. "Sam?"

"Get in there! And just listen!" The door was shut behind them as Bobby crept closer to listen. He had felt guilty about eavesdropping, but there was something….

He could hardly hear anything for a few minutes then Dean's voice, rising in disbelief. "You're serious, Sam? You can't be! This is crazy!"

"You tell me you didn't sleep the best you have for ages?"

"Yes, but….. No. No! Not happening!"

"Yes it is. No argument, Dean. It is happening, starting tonight! I need to know you're safe! And if we do this then I will! Plus I think it will be good for the both of us. And if you hate it, then the moment we're out of here and away from Bobby's where they can't find you then you don't have to. But here? You are going to."

"But…"

"No buts. Look." Sam's voice turned cajoling. There was a thud against the bedroom door as if one of them had been physically backed into it. "Dean, you're my brother. You will always be my brother, no matter what. And I know you've always looked after me, but now it's my turn to look after you! So please... Let me. I'm not going to let them take you, so just tell me when they're around, or if there's something I should know. Please. And, yes, from now on you are in this room, safe at night, every night. And I'll be there as well to make sure: I'll tell Bobby I'm bringing the cot up here."

"Yes, but." He was hesitating. Bobby had to almost put his ear to the door to hear him now.

"Dean. Trust me."

"I always have done, Sam. I always will." It was barely more than a whisper through the wood. Bobby strained his ears. "But."

"Enough Dean." Sam's voice was also low but close through the door, as if he were leaning over and talking right beside his brother's ear. "You're doing this. Just let me keep you safe. Okay?" There was a pause. "Okay?"

Finally a deep sigh and then Dean's raspy voice. "Okay." He didn't sound happy about whatever it was. Bobby decided to move away from the door, suddenly conscious of how it would look if the boys emerged, and headed back downstairs to cook something to eat.

He hadn't mentioned anything when first Sam and then Dean had come to help with the meal. They had eaten in relative silence. But it had been a strange silence, and Bobby still wanted to know what they had been disagreeing about to have caused it. And then this? This unexplained parcel? But he couldn't bring himself to ask about either.

They had made good progress on the cylinder head and had started to try and replace the destroyed pistons with some of the new parts ordered when Sam came out with some cool drinks for them. He seemed in a good mood considering the events of the past week or so, and Bobby had to smile at the eager young man as he offered the tray to him. The he wandered around to the other side of the car to wait for Dean to come out from beneath the car as Bobby stepped away for a moment into the shade.

"Damn crankshaft's bent, I'll have to get it out! No wonder they're not fitting right!"

Dean was sliding out with an explosion of annoyance and took the chance to stand up and rest his already aching back. Bobby sighed and moved to join him. "There's a couple more chevrolets in the yard. One of those might fit. I'll have a look."

""Yeah, I'll come."

"Grab a drink first. And have you put sunscreen on this morning?"

"Jeez, Sam, what are you? My mom?"

"Idgits." And Bobby began to walk away from the two of them. The he decided it would be more sensible to wait for Dean as he could climb up any stacks as necessary to see if any parts were suitable, so he returned to the Impala, walking around the rear of it.

He paused though when Sam good-naturedly butted his brother's back with his large shoulder and caused him to cough and spill his drink over himself. "Sam! What's with you?"

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I... guess. But..?"

And then he looked up from trying to wipe his t-shirt off and was caught in the full force of his younger brother's dimpled smile. Bobby stood at the back of the car and watched Dean's bad mood melt away at the sight, and thought not for the first time that Sam had got him wrapped round his little finger and the younger man knew it.

"Okay." Dean was conceding. "I slept well. But it's still weird."

"We'll get used to it. Now, sunscreen!" And with another shoulder-butt, this one hard enough to knock Dean forwards a step or two, he was pushing the bottle into his brother's greasy hand and returning to the house.

It was some time later that he returned. "I got something: it's one of dad's old phones. It took me a while but I cracked his voice mail code. Listen to this."

"Who's Ellen?"

"I don't know, but I got an address."

The box with the dagger was laying where they had left it in the main room when they returned, having found and met both Ellen, her daughter Jo, and Ash, as well as getting sidetracked by a successful hunt for a Rakshasa.

"I'm going to take a shower." Sam declared.

Bobby watched from where he was sitting at the table as Dean stared at the box, his expression an impenetrable mask.

"Can't we send it back? Tell...whoever it is that it's no longer needed"

"It don't work like that, Bobby. Their side of the deal has been kept so..."

"But you're the payment, aren't you boy? That aint right." He paused. "Is it Him? Is it him you'll have to ..."

Dean shrugged and shook his head wearily. "No time like the present. Can I borrow the car again? Just tell Sam an old friend called with a problem that needed sorting and I had to go."

"He aint gonna be happy about this, Dean."

"You think I am, Bobby?"

"If we told him...perhaps he could stop it! John's dead, you can't be held to a deal a dead man made!"

"Bobby! You've seen these people! I." Dean fought down his sudden anger and tried to speak calmly. "It doesn't work like that. Payment has to be made. And I don't want Sam or you involved with this. Please." The last was a direct plea to the older man.

Bobby sighed and nodded unwillingly. "I can't lie to him if he works it out, Dean."

"I know Bobby."

"Why don't you wait until the morning? Get a good night's sleep first. Say the call came first thing."

Dean gave him a slight tired smile and nodded. "Okay, Bobby. I'm just going to check the Impala before I turn in. Don't wait up."

Without another word he was gone through the back door and out into the yard. Bobby sighed and poured himself another coffee, wishing that he could think of someway, somehow to help Dean. The whole situation was beyond anything that he could have dreamt of in his nightmares.

His thoughts were disturbed by noises from outside in the yard. Bobby frowned and got up to cross to the back door, where he stood and listened for a while. It sounded like...it sounded just as it had when Dean had been pounding the Impala back into shape. Except that he had all but finished that now, and anyway why would he be doing something like that now? He would be more likely to break something in his present state of mind...

And then it came to Bobby with sudden clarity. It was Dean making the noise. And he was taking out his frustration and his buried hatred and pain, and shame, and probably grief, out on the Impala. Bobby could hear the glass breaking in all the windows now. With an exclamation he began to hurry to stop the boy from destroying his car all over again.

Then he just as suddenly came to a stop.

His car.

The Impala was the only thing that Dean owned: John had given it to him, had it included on his deeds as belonging to him and Sam had made sure it had stayed there when he had registered his claim on his brother. It was the only thing that was Dean's. He would never be allowed to own any form of weaponry as a slave. And the chance of him owning property or anything else of any importance in the future was so unlikely as to be unthinkable.

It was only the car that was his. And therefore it was the only thing that he could take his frustration out on, the only thing that nobody could hold against him as it was his to destroy if he wanted. And if Bobby ran out like he had so nearly done and stopped him, then he would be taking that one bit of control that Dean had in his life over something, possibly the only thing in this whole terrible situation that Dean had any control over, away from him. And Bobby couldn't do that. Not to Dean. It just wouldn't have been fair on him, not after everything else.

And so instead Bobby returned to the table and his now cold coffee, and just sat and listened to the crashes and smashing sounds that came from outside.

And it goddam broke his heart.