A/N: No biggie. I mean, I've only got a two-thousand word English essay to write for my coursework, two recast activities with commentaries to complete, translate the entire second act of La casa de Bernarda Alba plus answer questions on it and complete Spanish workbook activities and then two essays on 1st century Rome. Yet, there I was, 4 am, writing this bitch out. Guys, you're ruining my life with how insatiable you all are! (But, shhh...Never stop.)
Seriously, guys, I love you all! Eeek, hit more than ninety reviews with the last chapter! You're all completely amazing and if I could befriend you all, I so would! In fact, if anyone's on Tumblr, let me know so I can stalk you forever. Link's on my author page. Honestly, I cannot thank you all enough, including the wonderful anonymous reviewers that I can't thank personally!
As a reward, have some FILLER...I mean, a really interesting, diverse chapter-thing! This chapter is basically me establishing Bobby's voice. He was harder to write than I thought, so I'm counting on you guys to go as full-throttle as a Dean/Impala fic (heh, who reads those? I mean, really. Ha. Ha. *Cough*) with your critiquing, Loki dokie? Enjoy!
WARNINGS: So we've officially gone AU! Kinda. If it wasn't clear, Bobby's intro here disrupts the canon S1 timeline. If you have problems with this kind of time travel, go watch Doctor Who. Then come back. And appreciate how hard it is to mess with people's lives in this way! Also, like I said, typed this shit out at 4 in the morning...I'm expecting a minefield of mistakes so tread carefully, Lieutenants!
SPOILERS: No real spoilers, but set in Season One before 'Home' and back when the boys were still getting coordinates from John.
DISCLAIMER: Do-do-do, c'mon and do the Disclaimer, do-do-do, it's Disclaiming day for sure!
Into the Wild
CHAPTER 11
"Sam? Sam Winchester?" Bobby Singer would recognise that voice anywhere and he felt his heart jump upon hearing it. Of course, he'd blame it on palpitations, but Bobby couldn't deny it felt damn good to hear from one of John's boys. After John and Bobby had fallen out, the silence between the two gruff, deadbeat hunters had regrettably been imposed on the brothers by their father and so Bobby hadn't spoken to either of the Winchester brothers for years. But the old hunter could recall with fondness occasions when the boys were much younger and had referred to him as 'Uncle Bobby'. He couldn't stop a small grin from twitching the upper corners of his lips at the memories. It really was damn good to hear from one of the boys again.
Yet, being the old cynic that he was, Bobby knew such a phone call was hardly going to be good news, especially if it was Sam calling. That meant either his daddy or Dean or both were injured but Bobby had heard through the grapevine the events involving Sam's estrangement from his father and his sudden return to hunting with his brother.
It had to be Dean, then.
Of course, his mind supplied bitterly. God knew he'd loved that boy as his own son and liked to think in his own way he'd helped raised the kid when John would drop them off, two in the morning and shitfaced, and dive off again for days and weeks at a time. But Bobby knew Dean, knew how tenacious his drive to protect his family was, especially his precious baby brother. More often than not, the eldest Winchester boy took the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) bullet to keep his family safe. The only problem with that, of course, was that he usually ended up knocking on Death's door as a result. Oh, Bobby had seen the boy make some damn-near miraculous recoveries before, but he knew Dean's luck would fail him one day.
Praying that day was not today, Bobby felt his face harden into its usual resolute expression as he heard Sam's choked, panicky breaths. Knowing the Winchesters and their shared hatred for showing weakness, he waited for Sam to compose himself and gradually the younger Winchester's breaths slowed slightly and he coughed, clearing his throat and ensuring a reasonably solid voice, ready to launch into the account of his brother's health.
"Hey, man, it's so good to hear your voice!" Sam sniffed at last, with a forced levity he didn't feel, trying to keep his voice steady. "How've you been? It's been awhile."
"That it has," Bobby replied, sensing the younger Winchester's inner turmoil as to whether to come right out with whatever he had to say, or concede to social niceties first and get the polite small talk done and out the way. He decided to spare Sam the internal debate. "I've been well, boy, thanks for asking. I'd ask how you are but I can tell just by listening to ya that somethin' ain't right."
Sam chuckled sadly, touched by the concern he heard in Bobby's brusque tone. "Right on the money as always, Bobby."
"Course I am. Now, you wanna share what's going on? You wouldn't phone up a guy your daddy forbid you from talking to all those years ago without a good reason, no matter how many stitches that same guy put in your and your fool brother's heads. Dean okay? You okay?" Bobby asked, feeling the first twinges of worry coil in his belly. Goddamn Winchesters...
"I'm fine," Sam began. "Got a dislocated shoulder and my ankles are a little sore but none of that means anything. Dean's the...Dean's the one who got hurt the worst. As usual, right?" And Bobby must have heard the catch in Sam's shuddering voice because he sighed down the phone.
"Alright, boy, just start from the beginning."
So Sam did. He told the older man about everything, from their incessant arguing and the false wendigo lead, to the camping trip and the bear attack. He included everything, right up to Dean's septicaemia and the blatant disregard of their father for the wellbeing and safety of his sons. He finally finished recounting the tale, grateful that Bobby had listened mostly in silence, with the exception of a few choice curses aimed at John Winchester and whistles of disapproval and worry at Dean's injuries.
At last, there was a heavy silence, punctuated by Sam's heavy breaths that sounded too close to sobs for Bobby's liking. Truth be told, he was feeling a bit distraught himself. From the time he'd met the boy up until his estrangement with the Winchesters, Bobby knew that Dean was forever playing 'knock-door-run' with Death but this time it sounded like Death had opened the door, invited Dean in and even as Dean sat on Death's couch with a beer in hand, he was still eyeing the door, looking for a way back out. Bobby knew the eldest brother was a fighter but, honestly, it sounded bad. Bobby knew of few hunters that went as far as septic and made it back alive.
Struck by this notion, the old hunter blew out a distressed breath. "Well, your brother never was known for doing things the easy way," he surmised, keeping his voice low.
Sam grunted his agreement and Bobby glanced at his wristwatch, calculating how long it would take him to get to the Winchesters. His mind quickly made up, he took a deep breath in and straightened his shoulders, firmly decided on his next course of action. Right now, this boy needed more than a shoulder to cry on, halfway across country on a telephone. He needed a father-figure to stand with him at Dean's bedside and urge the man to fight. Sam needed solid support and someone to remind him to take care of himself while his brother couldn't. Bobby knew he was no angel, but if John wouldn't step up to the plate for his sons, the old hunter was more than happy to take his place.
Tone firm and certain, Bobby continued. "Listen to me, Sam. You get back in there with your brother, okay? He needs ya now more than ever, I'd wager. I'm about a day out but I should be able to get to ya by tomorrow morning."
"Bobby, you don't..."
"Don't have to my ass. You know damn well that what happened with me and John was never supposed to include you boys and I'm sure as hell not gonna sit here twiddling my thumbs while you and your brother need me. I'm packing up now."
Sam smiled, feeling a lump form in his throat. "Thank you, Bobby," he murmured quietly.
"Don't mention it, kid. You tell Dean from me that he'd better kick this thing's ass-" Bobby was sure as hell not gonna watch Dean Winchester, of all people, check out early. "-or else I'll be kicking his!"
"Sure thing, Bobby," Sam replied, smiling again.
Sensing the end of the conversation, Bobby was suddenly hit by a recollection from just the day before. Swiftly, the pieces fell into place and he piped up, knowing Sam had a right to know.
"Sam, before you go, you should know...your daddy called me yesterday," the old hunter murmured.
"What? Why?" Sam frowned, his mind momentarily taken off his brother's plight.
"I dunno, I never answered. Damn idgit's had the same number for years; I saw his name on the caller ID and ignored it. He left no message or nothin'...just thought you might wanna know, is all. God knows there ain't no love lost between me and that man and I know you're smart enough to know our differences included you boys and his crappy parenting..." Slightly uncomfortable, Bobby let his voice trail off momentarily, before restarting. "What I'm tryna say is, knowing what you've told me now, maybe your daddy is genuinely worried for your brother and was tryna get ahold of me to see if I knew somethin'. Which I do now."
"Maybe," the younger Winchester replied, his tone non-committal. "But he'll have to do more than phone a guy he hasn't spoken to in years for his before I'm convinced he actually gives a damn."
"I don't disagree, kid. But in case he does call again, is there anything you want me to tell him, Sam?" Bobby wondered, his years as a hunter forcing him to prepare for all situations, however undesirable the circumstances may be.
The younger Winchester frowned and sighed slightly. "Could you...could you tell him Dean's still fighting? I feel like I wanna make him suffer for how he's been and I know that sounds pretty bad but...Never mind. At the end of the day, I guess he at least deserves to know that."
Bobby smiled, recognising the compassion and forgiveness Sam was known for flicker to the surface, even towards a man as undeserving of it as John Winchester.
"No problem, kid. I'll let him know if he calls."
"Thanks, Bobby." And there were mutual clicks as both phones hung up. Renewed after his conversation with Bobby, Sam steeled himself. Switching his phone to silent, he turned and made his way back inside the hospital
XXXXXX
A/N: Stop...can't take...the...filler...
Next chapter, shit's going down. I dunno what yet, but I feel like shit should go the fuck down. Tarantino-style or something. Anyway, Bobby'll make his long overdue physical appearance next chapter and so we should see some Sam/Bobby, Dean/Bobby father-son type of thing. In theory. Any objections?
Ad Astra.