AN: So, first of all HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! Second, I hope you'll forgive me for the delay in finishing this chapter, but it couldn't be helped... made it extra long just to say I'm sorry :) And third, but most definitely not last, thank you to Jackfan2 for her awesome powers of beta-reading. Hope you all like this one :D
66 Seals of Doom on the Wall
Chapter Nine
What he had first assumed to be a heavy metal band playing in the next room, turned out to be his head trying to double as a drum.
Bobby had half expected to open his eyes and meet a crowd of screaming teens, but in the gloomy lit room, the only one he could see was Dean, seated against the wall near him, hands in his lap, eyes closed. His cheeks were wet, glistening with something that could be either blood or tears. Bobby couldn't really tell from his position on the floor.
"Dean," Bobby called out, slowly getting up on his ass. Everything was popping and felt rusty, like he hadn't move a joint in ten years. Even his voice was complaining. He cleared his throat. "Where's Sam?"
Dean's breathe hitched and he carefully cracked his eyes open. The look that he gave Bobby broke the older man's heart.
"I fucked up, Bobby… this time I really fucked up."
Last thing that Bobby could remember was some crazy-assed dream of talking with Dean in the living room of his house… no, that wasn't right. He remembered being possessed. He remembered getting Sam drunk and hurting Dean… no, that wasn't right either… the demon, the demon had done those things.
The notion of asking Dean if he was ok seemed ridiculous all of a sudden. He could clearly hear and see that the boy was far from that.
"What the hell happened here?" Bobby asked instead, slowly making his way to lean against the wall near Dean.
Shoulder to shoulder, Bobby could feel the shivers cursing through the young hunter's body.
"Sam found out… Ruby is working for Lilith… I tried to stop him… just made everything worse!"
Bobby tried to make heads and tails of the disjointed speech that he was being fed. He gave up when he realized that he had too many pieces missing. His own mind was still coming to gripes with the whole being possessed thing. And now, apparently, the shit had hit the fan when he wasn't even looking.
"What the hell are you talking about boy? You ain't making a lick of sense," Bobby said, the stern words soften down by the gentle tone.
The demon was gone, that part Bobby was sure of. And somehow, Dean had gotten inside his head and the two of them had actually managed to exorcise the damn thing. Honestly, he had never heard of anything like that.
Distracted by his own thoughts, Bobby missed the moment when Dean reached for his hand.
"Let me show you," the younger hunter said. "It's just faster that way… if I do it right…"
Bobby was confused by what he meant until Dean actually grabbed his hand and the whole dark room faded in to better lit version of it, where he could see everything that went on when he was still out.
The older hunter could see, as well as feel the emotions running through Dean's chest as, first, he let slip that he could read thoughts, at Sam' suspicions of him actually being a demon, of Sam… pushing his brother against a wall, like countless demons did before, choosing Ruby and walking away with her. "Oh… Dean-"
"We have to go after them Bobby…" Dean said hoarsely, the vision dissipating before the old hunter's eyes and the darkness returning. He stared anxiously once again into the wounded eyes of the eldest Winchester. "Ruby is walking him right in to Lilith's hands and Sam's too pissed at me to notice the trap. We-"
"We need to take care of you first and then we'll go after them," Bobby finally said, having regained some of his footing, a bit lost in between what Dean had shown him and the fact that Dean could show him his memories. He decided that it was best to keep to familiar grounds for now, take care of the things that he could actually solve first. Like the bleeding gashes that he remember putting in Dean's arm and leg.
"I'm going to get the first aid kit from the car and you," he said, not giving the younger man a chance to fight him on this, "are gonna stay put right there."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The fresh air of outside felt like a gulp of cold water to a thirsty man, the clear feeling of smoothness traveling from his mouth to his lungs. Bobby hadn't realized how charged that room was until he had exited it.
He knew that he was going to have a hard time convincing Dean to use his head on the matter of Sam running off hot-headed, but he'd be dammed if he would risk losing both boys again. Over the years, too many to count, he'd grown very fond of these boys and his old heart couldn't take much more of this crap. First John disappears, then gets possessed, then dies; then Sam disappears, gets possessed and then dies too… and Dean just went straight up and died, after selling his soul, of course. There was a nasty pattern forming here, and Bobby was hell bent on breaking it even if it was the last thing he ever did.
The sight of both his car and the Impala with their tires slashed just made Bobby want to release a big fuck in to the night air. How the hell were they supposed to get to Chicago with no tires?
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"We are not going to steal a car from the parking lot, Dean," Bobby said, dabbing gauze in their very own mixture of hydrogen peroxide and holy water, and holding against the worst of the cuts in Dean's leg. They took no chances when dealing with demon inflicted wounds, even if it stung like a bitch.
Still, from the way Dean was fuming at his words, Bobby figured that the burning sensation hadn't even registered on the young man. "This needs stitches… Last thing we need is the cops on our tail because some Sunday driver lost his Pinto. Now, seat still and hold your leg up so I can sew this mess."
The mess that he had made.
It was hard for the older hunter to be mending what he had- what the demon using him- had broken, but Bobby figured that it was his penitence for allowing himself to be possessed.
"And if you don't stow that crap right there, I'm dropping your ass right here and going by myself," Dean mumbled.
Bobby cursed at that. He'd forgotten Dean could do that now. "Guess I have to be careful with what I think around you now, huh?"
"Well, just don't think it so loud and we'll be fine," Dean said, holding the edges of the larger cut together so Bobby could thread the needle through the reddened flesh. "We shouldn't be wasting time with this Bobby… couple of butterflies and I'd be fine."
"Well, you might be mister superman, but I need to do this," Bobby grumbled, not meeting the other man's eyes. "Besides, switching the good tires from my car to yours is a two men job and I need you able and ready to help."
"God, Bobby… you made it sound like all the tires were busted," Dean said, starting to move up. "Come on; let's get a start on it."
Bobby shook his head. "And that's exactly why I didn't mentioned it bef-"
"You mustn't go to Chicago."
Dean almost jump up, more surprised by the actual words than the voice that had uttered them. He was growing use to the angel's dramatic entrances.
"Castiel… always to the point," Dean greeted him. By his side, he could feel Bobby tensing up. The last encountered between those two hadn't ended that well for the older hunter. "Why the fuck shouldn't I go? You're the one who gave me that that information to start with, remember?"
"Things have… changed," Castiel said, his tone thoughtful as if he too couldn't understand how they have arrived at this crossroad. "At this point, going to Chicago is to do exactly what Lilith wants. She knows your brother is on his way… this is a trap for you both."
"Fuck if I care," Dean said, getting up from the bed, half-bandaged arm dragging white gauze behind it like a dirty banner and needle, still hanging by its thread, dangling from his leg. In his boxers, with smears of blood still decorating his face and body, Dean looked like a add to bad doctoring... or an extra in some really bad porn.
Castiel sighed. It was impossible to know if it was Dean's language or his attitude that was wearing the angel's patience thin. "You should care. It is not only your life and the life of your brother that are at stake here. You shouldn't be this selfish."
Even Bobby looked surprised at the words coming out from the angel's mouth. He was about to explain to Castiel the exact meaning of 'selfish' when Dean cut ahead of him and did it himself.
"Selfish? Trying to prevent my only brother, my only LIVING FAMILY from walking into a trap? That's selfish?"
Castiel seemed unfazed by Dean's angry words. "It is, when you know the repercussions of your actions and still ignore them," he quietly said, his calm voice doing more to deflate Dean's anger than any other speech could. "It is both selfish and childish."
"So you got your hands on some crystal balls now too? You can tell the future as well as you can play with the past?" The sarcasm dripped like melting ice.
"I don't need divination powers to see the obvious," Castiel said and for a second, Dean could swear that the angel had already mastered the use of sarcasm himself. "The seals must not-"
"Fuck the damn seals! And how can you be so sure that Sam won't…" Dean swallowed, the words still too big and heavy to pass through his throat. "…that Sam won't kill himself anyway if I'm not there to stop him?"
"Because Lilith will make sure that Sam kills you the minute you step inside that warehouse," Castiel shot back. The words had the same effect of a dagger and Dean recoiled as they found their target. But the angel continued, undaunted, "Lilith has always known that you were the fastest way to get what she wanted from Sam… and now that she has him in her hands, now that the power to break that seal so easily is at her reach... you can rest assure that she will have a plan to get exactly what she wants."
At that last statement, Dean's eyes slam shut and he mutters a quiet curse. That last bit? Well, that was the last thing that he had wanted Bobby finding out; Bobby was a practical guy and knew how to look at the big picture, like Castiel was always telling him to do. He didn't want Bobby thinking of Sam as a target.
For the second time that evening, Dean was left speechless. He sagged back down on the bed, head bowed and hands hanging limply from his lap, waiting. Dean wasn't going to like Bobby's reaction to this. He could already hear the engines inside the older man's head turning.
"They both need to die for the seal to break?" Bobby asked, but the question, all the questions that Dean figured Bobby would be asking, wasn't directed at him.
"Sam must not be allowed to take his life for the love of another… that is what the seal says... that is what the seal is," Castiel confirmed, directing his attention to the older hunter, instinctively knowing that Dean needed time to regroup. "The breaking of this seal must be prevented at all cost."
Dean looked up at that, not liking the implications of having 'his' angel talking like that to someone else. Talking like he was giving Bobby a mission of his own. There were enough people already willing to kill his brother.
"You and your 'brothers' have fucked up enough seals already… why not let this one slide as well?" Dean asked, knowing that the words were harmful but not really caring at the moment.
Castiel flinched, just as Dean hoped he would. When he talked though, his voice mirrored none of the emotions that both humans had seen running through his eyes. "Some seals are more important than others… some seals are so important that we had to break some on our own to assure their safety."
"What are you talking about?"
"Raising you from perdition… it was a risk, but one that was deemed worthy of taking."
"Wait a minute," Dean stared, not believing what he just heard. "You saying that getting me out of Hell was another of the seals?" Just when he thought that things couldn't get much worse. "But Lilith didn't break that one, did she?"
"No, she didn't. I did. It was the first one, actually," Castiel confessed.
"The broken statue," Bobby whispers audibly, "the one with the angel raising a man from his tomb, she was sending a message to you, wasn't she?" It had always intrigued him as to why Lilith had taken the trouble of going around the world, breaking ancient tombs.
The angel nodded, his usually solemn face more grim than ever. He was not happy to be doing Lilith's work for her, but it couldn't be helped. "The soul of a mortal man shall be raised from the flames of Hell before Hell's lord himself can rise as well," Castiel said, sounding like he was quoting some ancient text that he'd memorized. He probably was.
"Well, I certainly didn't ask for that…" Dean said as he grabbed his discarded shirt, getting dressed with jerky, short, angry movements. Furious wasn't quite enough to describe his state of mind just then. "Why? Why me? Why Sam? What the hell did we do to deserve all of this?"
Castiel pressed his lips together, like he was physically stopping himself from saying something else. How far was the line between saying enough to reassure his young charge and saying too much that would only serve to upset him even further? Castiel guessed that the exact same words would succeed in accomplishing both.
He could feel Dean's awkward attempts at reading his mind, but that was a fact that did not concern him. The most he would be able to find out was that his inhabited vessel had a growing concern for his unfed fishes.
"You should rest," Castiel said, taking in the dark smudges under the man's eyes and the sick pallor of his skin. "You'll think more clearly when you're rested."
"No time for that..." Dean shook his head, regretting the slight motion as it awakened white sparks of light in his eyes. Turns out getting inside someone's head and performing an exorcism was quite taxing. "Sam and Ruby are probably half way through to Chicago already. We need to leave, now!"
Although he was perfectly aware of how quietly and fast Castiel could move, it still surprised Dean when he looked up from buttoning up his shirt and found the angel inches away from him. There was no time to flinch away and before he knew it, Castiel had touched his forehead and he was falling in to a deep sleep.
"You must win lots of arguments like that, dontcha?" Bobby snapped as he saw Dean's body falling against the bed. "The least you could've done was to put him to sleep after I got him in the car." He looked at the needle hanging from Dean's leg. "Or put some pants on, for that matter," the older man mumbled.
Castiel tilted his head, leaving his observation of his sleeping charge to look at the older man. "You are taking him to Chicago none the less?"
Bobby nodded, for a minute worried that the angel would put him to sleep too. He took a step back, just in case. "No other choice really. He won't stay asleep forever, and you know the first thing he'll do when he wakes up is go after his brother, so, I might as well get him there on time to actually do something."
"Even knowing the risks… you still willingly take him there?"
"'Course I do," Bobby said with a shrug. He understood the seriousness of the matter, God! How he did... he just didn't see any other choice. He knelt down to take the needle back in hand to finish sewing the sleeping man's leg. "And so does he, make no mistake." He paused mid-stitch and fixed the angel with a serious gaze, "He's scared shitless. You know that, right?"
The angel looked down. The younger hunter looked peaceful in his sleep, resting free of the worries that plagued his waking hours and the nightmares that haunted his usual sleep. "How can you tell this?" Castiel asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"He swears a lot when he' scared. Ever since he was a kid, it was always the same thing… the bigger the fear, the dirtier the mouth." Bobby's eyes shifted, a sad smile creased the corners of his mouth. It was as if seeing some distant place, his voice drifting with him, apparently lost in some memory of a time when things were slightly easier, "Used to drive John insane whenever he got complains from traumatized schoolteachers." The weight of the present, though, pushed him in to more serious matters.
With Dean patched up and his slumber continuing, Bobby stood, gathering the refuse of his completed triage. "Don't get me wrong when I say this, 'cause I'm really grateful to have Dean back among us a an' all, but if the risk was that big, why bring him back at all?" The question asked, he moved quickly and efficiently around the room, gathering their stuff to leave.
"The risk of keeping him in Hell was bigger… we needed him where we could do something for him," Castiel said absentmindedly, sitting next to Dean. His hand reached to touch the pendent lying against the hunter's chest, stopping just inches from touching it. "You haven't told him yet."
"Wasn't planning on it," Bobby answered, curious about the angel's reaction to the golden, horned head-figure hanging from Dean's neck and his obvious knowledge of why it was there. "But I'm really starting to wonder about the wisdom of that now. Secrets don't tend to end well around the Winchester, in case you haven't noticed."
"Dean already knows about Mary and his grandparents… once he has the time to think about it, he'll probably figure it out with Elkins… he still doubts himself too much though… perhaps you should make sure that that particular piece of information stays hidden from him, for now."
"Before he reads it off my mind, is that what you mean?" Bobby fired back. How was supposed to do that? After all, there was only so much time that he could spend thinking of dry walls. "You know why he wears it, right?"
"I do."
"And I bet you know the reason why too," Bobby asked, desperately trying to fish for information. For years now, he'd been curious and left to wonder about the thing that Dean's amulet shielded him from. This was as close as he'd ever gotten to an answer.
"I do."
"Not gonna share, are you?"
"The time is not right for that yet… he needs to remember first."
"Remember? Remember what?" Bobby asked. From what he was aware, there was only one thing missing from Dean's mind and, if you asked him, it wasn't something he needed to remember at all. "You're talking about his time in the pit, aren't you?"
Castiel looked lost for a moment. The different ways human had to refer to the place of damnation still left him confused on occasion. He nodded when he understood that the older hunter was indeed talking about Hell.
"That's a bit cruel, dontcha think?"
From the way Bobby said it, it was clear that he found it a lot more than 'a bit' cruel. One of his closest friends in his youth had been captured in 'Nam and kept in a prisoner's camp just outside Ban Nai for six whole months. Peter managed to survive, but that was all he did until the day he killed himself. The memories alone of what he'd been through during those days had haunted him the rest of his life.
Dean being to Hell made what Peter had gone through sound like a trip to the dentist. If there were anything he could do to keep the kid Hell-memories free, Bobby would do it.
"That sentiment does you justice… but there is no other choice," Castiel said, sounding truly sorry for that. "If Dean never remembers the information that he gathered there, the suffering he went through in Hell would have been for nothing… and all will be lost."
Bobby scratched his beard. The angel made it sound like the deal Dean made had nothing to do with the fact that his soul was Hell-bound. "How do you even know he has this information that you need?"
"Because that is what he was born to do."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Please stop.
The second claw drew a symmetrical path down his other shoulder blade, twin rivers of blood running down his back, cursing through the riverbeds that the muscles of his outstretched arms formed.
Please… I can't take it anymore.
The claws owner just kept on laughing, a caustic sound that burned his ears and filled him with shame … sadism oozed from the high pitched notes, like long fingernails on a dusty chalk-board. On and on and on and on…
Please, just… just stop.
When the laughter stopped, he knew what would happen. They had played this game before and the end was always the same. He thought he'd died the first time it had happen, only to be brought back to face it all again.
How many times it happened before, he did not remember, but one thing he was certain of, this would not be the last time.
The claws were almost at the end of their path, the pattern design almost complete. He closed his eyes and waited for the words, the signal to free his most primal scream.
A presence drew near his ear, air, fetid and warm, brushing against his sweaty skin. In its wake, goose bumps rising, evidence of pure revulsion.
There… I gave you your wings back.
The words were whispered against him, a touch of tongue mingling with the venom being poured, a distraction for when the claws started to pull.
Now fly, my angel… fly once again.
He doesn't know for how long he's left there after that, hanging like a mocking parody of a displayed butterfly with bloody wings. It's taking longer this time… it's taking longer to stop existing and start all over again. He doesn't know what they are waiting for. He's not going to die… he can't die in here and that's part of the torture.
Do you think he knows? Do you think he remembers?
Dean can hear the voices at a distance, whispers that are only understandable because they clash so strongly with the surrounding screams.
Who cares if he does?! Lilith gave him to me to play with and I haven't finished yet.
He looks so pretty hanging there… let me play as well.
Dean flinches from the words, but the claws owner doesn't acknowledge him. He is nothing but meat on a hook to them. He has no eyes. He has no ears. He has no mouth. Sometimes he doesn't even have a face.
You'll have your turn… you all will have your turn.
Don't believe you… Lilith wants him upstairs, you know she needs him upstairs for...
For the plan that she stole from Azazel, you mean…
Time passes too slowly for him, slowly enough for him to track the path of each and every single drop of blood in his body. He can barely recall who Azazel is or why the sound of his name awakens a hatred so deep and bigger than any he's ever felt here.
Either way… oh! Look, he's whole again! Let me try something new…
What do you have in mind?
You'll see.. you'll see.
Dean looked down at himself, barely recognizing the mended flesh as his own. He was so use to see the inside of his bones and the white of his skin covered in red…
He never saw it coming, behind him. The spear was so long that it entered him from bellow and he was still screaming when it forced its way past his tongue. Even with his vocal cords ripped apart, he still screamed…
0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Dean…. Dean, wake up!"
Dean bolted upright with a start. Green eyes wide open, pupils contracting painfully hard against the light outside, his heart hammered painfully in his chest. The low roar of the engine filled his ears, familiar and oddly soothing, like the soft purr of a content cat. It was a sound that Dean knew as well as his own heartbeat. Sometimes, he wished that his heartbeat was a steady and strong as the pumping valves of the Impala's inner workings.
There was a pressure on his chest and his gaze traveled to the source. Bobby's hand held tight, tendons straining, clenched around the fabric of his shirt over his heart, a warm restraint or harsh comfort. Maybe both.
Bobby's other hand held the steering wheel steady as the sleek black car stayed the course. It was a strange notion to feel the car moving and not be driving. For all the times that Sam had driven the Impala, Dean always missed that feeling.
Sam!
The scenery outside moved past him in a blur of green and bright blue. Bobby was squinting against the light coming from the noon sun, both his hands now clasped around the unfamiliar wheel.
Bobby cast a fleeting look filled with concern for the waking young man and returned his eyes to the road. Damn angel had promise that he would get some rest. From the amount of thrashing and the sweat pooling on Dean's forehead, Bobby figured that the last nightmare had been a nasty one.
"How're you feeling?"
Dean rubbed a hand down his face, feeling the sharp sting of stubble. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had time to shave. "He's gone?" Dean asked, the memory of Castiel insisting that they stuck their collective heads in the sand being the last thing he remembered.
"Yup."
"But we're still going to Chicago?" The question wasn't about the direction they were traveling. Dean could recognize the freeway they were on, he knew that they were twenty minutes, maybe half an hour away from Chicago. The real question was how Castiel had allowed Bobby to so blatantly disobey something that the angel was obviously extremely serious about.
"Yup," Bobby said again, apparently enjoying the confusion in his passenger's face.
"How?"
"Amazing powers of persuasion, that's how."
Bobby didn't need to take his eyes off the road to know the size of the glare Dean was sending him. "Castiel may not know you for long, but he already knows what a big stubborn ass you are… he figured that since there was no way of talking you out of this, he might as well let me help you get there… even helped to magically change the tires and everything," the older hunter added with a chuckle.
Dean seemed too lost in his own thoughts to find the humor in their private Heavenly-auto-repair. "He say anything else?"
"Nope"
Dean sat quiet for a while, just watching the blurry landscape as it rushed by his window. He loved being in his car, but only if he got to be the one behind the wheel. Sitting there in the passenger seat, with no traffic signs and crazy drivers to keep him alert – distracted - Dean had no other choice but to deal with his own thoughts. His life was just too screwed up for him to allow himself that now.
"Has Sam called?" But Dean already knew the answer to that one.
With a shake of his head, Bobby confirmed what Dean could've guessed. Suddenly, he placed one arm behind him to the bench seat in the back, reaching for his coat. "We should try to call him… warn him again. Maybe he's thinking more coolly now-"
"Dean… I already tried. Five times. All I got was his voice mail," Bobby explained. He knew that Sam was feeling betrayed right now, but boy! He could slap him just now.
Dean ran a hand through his short hair, absently rubbing the tension away from his temples before scrubbing the remains of sleep from his eyes. "God… this is like dad all over again," he whispered, maybe only to himself.
Bobby heard anyway, and he couldn't agree more. This was definitely a pattern that he didn't like. The older man cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the slow traffic ahead. "This whole thing in Chicago… you know that Lilith is waiting for you to show up."
"I know," Dean said, distractedly biting his thumb's nail.
"And you know that, no matter what happens, Sam must not be allowed to kill himself?"
The shiver that raced through Dean's body in reaction to those words was strong enough to reach Bobby in the driver' seat.
"He's not a demon yet, Bobby… there' still time to prevent that," Dean said, his tone almost convincing. Either way, there was no way he would ever stand by and watch Sam off himself. Apocalypse or no apocalypse.
"He chose a demon over you... he used his powers on you," Bobby stated the obvious, because for a smart guy, Dean lost all sense when it came to Sam. "He chose the powers that he knows are evil over his own flesh and blood… it ain't looking good."
"He was trying to protect us," Dean reminded the older man. He knew how good Bobby was at keeping his own feelings locked away until a hunt was over. He was scary good at that.
"I'm just saying… how far are you prepared to go?"
And that was the question that had been at the back of Dean's mind ever since Castiel had opened his mouth about Sam. His brother, or the whole of Mankind… how could he possibly choose? "I can't kill my own brother, Bobby… I just can't do it."
It felt like a confession, even if both men inside that car had always known that that would be his answer. Bobby just wished that fate allowed Dean to respect his choice.
"I know you can't… just the thought of it breaks my heart too, but," Bobby hesitated, afraid of how his offer of doing it for Dean, if there was no other choice, would be received.
"Don't," Dean broke his train of thought and the older man once again kicked himself for forgetting that his thoughts were no longer his alone. "I'm sick and tired of having people offering themselves to kill Sam… I have to believe that we're fighting to save him, Bobby… I gotta believe that he can be saved, or else I can't fight anymore…"
Bobby chose to ignore how, at that last bit, Dean's voice slowly turned in to a sob, concentrating instead on fighting the burn of tears in his eyes. "We have to be prepared for all possibilities," Bobby said, clearing the emotional lump from his throat. "It broke your daddy's heart too when he found out about Sam, and the demon blood and all the writings about it…"
"Wait… What? Dad knew about all this?" Dean exploded from the passenger seat, turning sideways to look at the older hunter.
"Yeah, John knew… I knew some of it too," Bobby confessed. "From the way you reacted when he died, I'm guessing that he asked you the same thing he asked me?"
"You too?" Dean's voice now was one of incredulity and shock.
"Why do ya think I chased your father away at buck shot point? Man comes into my house and tells me that he found some stuff and that, if anything ever happened to him or you, I would have to take care of Sam…" Bobby said, the memory alone painful to him.
Those had been dark times, when John and his boys just disappeared from circulation. Bobby had spent too many sleepless nights wondering if he had made the right decision in keeping John, given his tenuous state of mind, away from him. How he had feared for those boys then. The news that Sam had gone away to college were actually some of the best that Bobby ever heard… until he saw the effects that had on Dean and his father.
"How? How could he know?"
"Your father was a damn good hunter, boy," Bobby reminded him. Despite the fact that Dean knew that, he didn't seemed convinced. "Elkins," he ended up confessing. Might as well come clean on it.
"Elkins? Daniel Elkins?" Dean said, swallowing an uncomfortable lump in his throat. In a manner of speaking, he'd just been with the man only a few days ago. "How could Elkins know?"
Bobby looked alarmed for a few seconds, looking sideways at Dean, searching his face for some sort of clue that he hadn't said too much too soon. "It's already happened, right?" He hadn't misunderstood Castiel's words, right?
Dean sat back straight in his seat, looking at the stretch of dark road ahead and not knowing what to answer Bobby. The headache that had started to build ever since he'd awoken was getting worse and this conversation wasn't doing it any favors.
"You see, the thing about Elkins was that he never forgot a face… even one of over thirty years ago."
Dean closed his eyes, trying to block the whole world out of existence. He knew the risks of interacting with people that he or his father might know, but at the time he was more concerned about finding a way to kill that yellow eyed bastard and put an end to his family's suffering. "He remembered me?"
"He trusted a man he didn't know with his most prized possession… of course he remembered you," Bobby said, the word idjit unspoken but quite clear in his voice. "He went back to Lawrence to get the Colt back… met your mother. She had just buried her whole family and was desperate to talk with someone, another hunter, about what had happen-"
"Azazel killed them all," Dean whispered. The sight of his heart-broken mother was too fresh in his memory, holding a newly resurrected John in her lap. "He manipulated her in to making a deal… she didn't really had a choice."
"She told Elkins everything, begged him to not tell your father," Bobby told with a sight. "Wanted to protect him, I guess."
"Wasn't enough."
"Daniel kept an eye on the families that the yellow eyed demon visited that time. You told him you needed the Colt to save your family, so Elkins figured you were related to one of those families. He was there, ten years later, when the demon came back to collect his debt from them."
"And dad?"
"I was the one that put John in contact with Daniel. Your father was looking for someone that might've known of weapons to kill demons and Elkins was the only hunter I could think of to have researched the matter… Daniel had mostly forgotten about the whole thing until he recognized you one day, when John showed him a picture of his boys."
"And Elkins joined the dots and figured that Sam was one of the demon debts, that we were Mary's kids," Dean said, figuring that, with that many clues, it wasn't such a hard thing to do. "Missouri told me that dad knew about Sam… and about me. He never told you?"
Bobby shook his head. "Your daddy was an untrusting bastard… he never told the whole thing to anyone. He shared bits of it with me, other bits with Jim, some others with Missouri, but he never told anyone the whole truth. Good thing that he never figured that what he didn't share, other might. Elkins was the damn same thing, damn their military code… you know that his whole life, Elkins swore that he never got the Colt back?"
"The letter," Dean whispered. "Elkins left a letter to my dad when he died. He told him then… what else did he know?"
"Daniel came to me looking for some books on half-bread demons and demonic halflings. We ended up figuring that Azazel was looking for a human representative. And we knew that when he found him it would be bad… like opening the gates of Hell bad," Bobby said, remembering back then how frustrating it had been to know what Jake was but not being able to stop him from doing anything because, at the time, they didn't knew why the yellow eyed demon wanted him for.
"And he told dad that," Dean said, recalling the long weeks that his father had been away, 'hunting' with Elkins. He remembered the haunted look in his father eyes when he'd returned.
"There was a good chance that this human that Azazel was looking for was your brother," Bobby said with a sigh. "For a time there, John was sure that Sam wasn't even his biological son, that somehow the demon had forced Mary to…"
"No," Dean added quickly. For a split second, when he was talking to his possessed grandfather, that thought had crossed his mind too. "He just bleeds in to the kids mouths… nothing more."
As if that wasn't enough. But the idea of that evil thing laying one finger on his mother…
"I told your daddy that he was insane, " Bobby agreed. "All he had to do was take a good look at the kid and see that he was his spittin' image… Christ, the kid even has his damn stubborn streak."
"Yeah, two pees in a pod, those two... both of them couldn't wait to leave me behind and get their stupid revenge… it's always about the damn revenge," Dean whispered. God, he was going to lose his whole family to Hell and their plans.
"Sam is doing this to protect you… to protect us. You said so yourself," Bobby reminded him. He too wanted to believe that. It was better to go on under the assumption of love than of hate. "We need to come up with some sort of plan before we get to Chicago… can't just waltz in there and ask for Lilith's head."
The smirk on Dean's face was downright feral. "Oh, I have a plan… but first we need to find Sam… can't have him jump out of nowhere at the wrong time and putting himself and us at risk," he said, leaning forward and opening the glove compartment. "Do you have your exorcisms book around?" Journal in hand, he thumbed through John Winchester's notes.
"Why?"
"I need to get that thing memorized once and for all… can't afford to be caught with my pants down anymore," Dean said, remembering all the times that the fact that he needed a piece of paper to do his exorcisms had put him at risk. Even recently, with Bobby's possession, had it not been for Bobby's reciting the words with him, chances are, none of them would've survived. It was embarrassing.
Dean realized that Bobby was staring at him, so much so that he risked sending them straight in to the nearest oncoming car if he didn't knocked it off. "The road, Bobby, the road… you put a scratch on my baby and I'-"
"You can't memorize Latin?"
"Don't you start too… I had enough crap from Sam because of that," Dean said, sounding a bit defensive. It was certainly a sore subject for him. "Tried a bunch of times… it just never sticks."
"Damn!"
"Well, be discreet about it, why don't you," Dean said angrily. "It's not like all of us are fluent in a gazillion dead languages… there's a reason they're dead, you know?"
"What?" Bobby actually sounded confused, like he hadn't just called Dean dumb. "No, it's not… hot-damn, we should've figured something like this might happen," he mumbled, more to himself than to the fuming young man at his side.
"Figured what?" The thoughts running inside Bobby's were so many and so fast that Dean couldn't grip any of them and understand what the older hunter was talking about.
Bobby took another look at him, then glanced briefly upward, as if searching for answers in the car's roof. Finally, he took a long breath, his decision made. Screw what the angel thought Dean should or should not know. "Exactly how much do you remember from that first time you and your brother went to my house?"
Dean frowned, confused about the conversation back flip. "Hum… I don't know… it was ages ago," he finally said, forcing his mind to go back that many years. Bobby had been a constant almost all of his and his brother's childhood. "I remember that you didn't had a TV, which sucked; remember that your dog at the time was a furry big thing named Nixon and that you were an untrusting son of bitch that forced small kids to drink holy water when you met them… but that kind of made you ok in my book," Dean said with a grin.
"That's because you're screwed in the head," Bobby added with a grin of his own.
He could still remember like it was yesterday that afternoon when John showed up with two little kids in tow, one eight, the other barely five, each scrawnier than the other. His initial thought that their father wasn't feeding them properly vanished the first time that he sat with them for a meal. Damn, but those boys could eat… they just had them sort of metabolisms that just burned through everything.
Bobby figured that, with the crap they ate to the day, that was about the only thing that was still keeping them this side of three hundred pounds.
"Why the memory lane trip?" Dean asked.
"Dean… there' something I gotta tell you-"
"And from your tone, I can just tell that I'll love hearing it," Dean grumbled, the involuntary pout on his lips making him look like a five year old.
"You were warned about not doing that, Bobby," Castiel's voice sounded from the back seat, sending both men in the front jumping in the air. The jerk motion of Bobby's arms translated in to a dangerous swirl of the car on the road.
"Damn it!" Dean barked out angrily. "Stop doing that! You make my car crash and I swear I'll paint your wings pink!"
"He needs to know… " Bobby intoned, determined hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "The kid can't even hold Latin in his head!"
"He doesn't have to memorize the rituals… he has no need for them," Castiel said quietly, ignoring the flaming looks that Dean was sending his way and, in turn, Bobby's.
"Oh, he does… he really, really does," Dean fumed. "And he really would like to know what the fuck you two are talking about!"
Bobby looked at the angel through the rearview mirror and put on his best challenging look. "Dean's right… and don't you even think about pulling your sleeping-pill fingers on me… I'm driving here."
The mumbled re-warning of pink wings came over the sound of the Impala's engine sputtering before shutting all together. Bobby barely had time to turn on the blinkers and pull to the side of the road, before the wheels stopped spinning. He fully expected to start dreaming any second then.
"What the hell?" Dean shouted. "Would you stop messing with my car?" Turning, he found the back seat already empty. "Hate it when he does that…"
Bobby let out a relieved sigh, scrubbing his beard and leaning against the leather seat. So much for the easy part. And now for the hard one...
"Now," Dean refocused on the older hunter, "would you tell me what the hell was this was all about?"
Fishing out the silver flask that he kept in his jacket pocket, Bobby mumbled, "Best if I just show you."
"Bobby…" Dean warned, remembering the last time Bobby, him and holy water had been involved.
"Shut up and take off your amulet," Bobby ordered.
Dean looked confused but did it anyway… what the hell did this particular piece of jewelry have to do with anything? "OK, now what?"
"Drink this," Bobby offered him the flask.
"Holy water, Bobby? Really?"
"Just drink it," the older man said, grabbing his cell phone and hitting quick dial. The music from Dean's cell phone ring tone filled the silent car. "Don't pick that up."
Dean gave him a look that clearly said what he thought of the other man's mental stability. Bobby's only answer was to hold his cell phone opened in the seat between them and patiently wait.
Two minutes later, Dean lost what little patience he had left. "What the hell are you doing Bobby? Is this supposed to prove anything? I already told you that I'm not a freaking demon!" Dean forced out through clenched teeth.
Bobby ignored him, closing his phone instead. "Ok, that should be enough," he handed over Dean's amulet. "You can put it back on again."
"Well, that was fine waste of time," Dean mumbled as he tied the leather string behind his neck.
"Listen to your voice mail and then tell me what a waste a time this really was," Bobby said with a smug smile on his face.
When Dean grabbed his cell phone punched in his voice mail code, he was almost afraid of what he would find.
Bobby watched closely as the changes marched across Dean's face. The incredulity, the confusion, the fear, the anger…
"What the hell, Bobby?! Is this some kind of joke?"
It was in Latin… every single word that he had said to Bobby just seconds before… they were all in Latin.
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And as a New Year resolution, I shall review every story that I read :)