Disclaimer: Nothing original in here. Dean, Sam and Bobby belong to Supernatural's Erik Kripke.

Birds of a feather

Sam listened to the sounds from outside. He was sure he had heard gunshots even though they had been subdued. And then he had heard a woman, had to be Maggie, calling. After that it was quiet until the door opened. By the sound of it a man was moaning and being dragged across the floor and deposited by the wall. He tried to call out from behind the duct tape but managed only frustrated noises. It was clear that Maggie was tying up someone who was halfway unconscious, and then she left.

After a minute she came in again, dragging something heavy that didn't make any sounds. But considering that she tied up that something too it must be one of Dean or Bobby, and he had to be alive. Sam went through hell, wondering who was moaning and why the other one wasn't. Surely they must both be alive! His attempts at waking them up grew louder and more urgent and when Maggie left the room someone finally heard him and it was a familiar voice that responded.

"Sam! It's you. Are you ok, kid?"

Bobby! Then the person who didn't make a sound was Dean! Sam frantically tried to convey the question of Dean's condition but Maggie came in again and Bobby's attention was on her.

"Margarete."

It sounded in equal measures like a greeting and a curse when he said it, but if he offended her you couldn't tell by her voice. It was as cool and calm as the grave while Bobby's was pure venom.

"Bobby Singer. The man who made me what I am. What do you think? Is it an improvement?"

"At least now everyone can see what you are on the inside. What did you do to Dean?"

Just then Dean gave a cough, letting them know he was alive. Sam felt a ton lighter. He couldn't see it but Bobby was sitting on the floor, hands tied above his head and fastened in the loop. In front of him was a drawing of a symbol on the floor. Dean, a little behind on events, was in the same situation. His priority clear he immediately searched for and found his brother.

"Sam! Are you ok?"

Dean sounded a little hoarse but very much alive and Sam tried to explain how relieved he was about that but had to settle for grunts that would at least tell him that he lived.

Dean, satisfied on that account, then looked at the witch he had come to kill. She had turned her glowing eyes and attention to him as well, and knocked his head on the wall when he reeled back. The... woman… looked hideous! Her grey skin and glowing eyes, not to mention that, that, aura. God, she was a monster, not just a witch. If Bobby had done this to her it was no wonder she wanted revenge. He swallowed but looked her in the eye. Never back down. There was a glint of amusement in those eyes and then she mercifully turned away from him and back to Bobby.

"See? He's ok. This feels just like old times, you attracting the young ones no one would bother about. But, I am sure you are worried that I invited you here to talk about old memories. I need you to undo what you did, Bobby Singer. I want to be rid of this form."

"Go to hell, witch." Bobby's voice sounded curiously strangled. "You killed my Sarah."

"Not completely true. Though I have killed others while being consumed by my state, a state you put me in. Those people's blood is partially on your hands."

Bobby didn't answer, which was an answer in itself, and Dean switched his attention between his brother's prostrate form and his old friend's pained expression. He thought to himself that Bobby should know better than to accept guilt so readily but it was obvious that he had thought so himself. Knowing she had hit a nerve she nodded and moved closer to him, crouching in front of him and looking him straight in the eye.

"And now you will help me reverse the change. I have everything we need. If we succeed I will let you live. And leave with your kids."

"Go. To. Hell."

Bobby repeated, speaking so low it was almost a whisper, his whole body radiating ice cold fury. Margarete rose again, sadly shaking her head, and went over to get the sack from underneath Sam's stretcher. Then she started laying out the things in it in a complicated pattern, humming to herself while doing so. All three men felt the pull of her magic at work and they all had to concentrate to stay outside of it.

Dean's eyes rested on Sam most of the time, trying to find any marks on him or a trace of what he had suffered. But the blanket covered him so it was difficult to tell. He could tell that blood had been shed in the room though. The smell of blood was powerful and he had had enough of it to fill a lifetime, and certainly enough to smell its presence through any other odour. He felt helpless and kept struggling against the ropes, trying to find a knot. At least they were in the same room. He would get Sam out of there, somehow. Whenever he looked over at the witch he felt the need to pinch himself, how could a...a person...like that stay hidden?

The last thing Margarete took out was a silver bowl and that one she carried over to Bobby and, without even pausing to aim, she haphazardly made a deep cut in his left arm. Bobby didn't even flinch and they looked each other in the eyes the whole time, even while she pressed the bowl to his wound and let the blood flow into it. Dean was thankful he couldn't see her face but Bobby's was set in cold hate.

When she felt she had enough she rose and put the bowl down on a circle in the symbol. Bobby's wound kept trickling but it didn't seem to bother him. His complete attention was on the witch. Then she lit up a black candle even though the room was fully lit and put down a book in front of him which he immediately kicked back at her. She frowned but didn't seem surprised.