You know, I started Lil' Sammy as a celebration that 50 people actually put me on author alert. I thought that was really cool. Now there are just over three times that many. WOW!! So I want to thank the academy and... wait, that's not me. Oh yeah! A BIG thanks to all you wonderful readers and those of you kind enough to give me feedback, for letting me know when something is confusing and when there's something you want to read. That's how Lil' Sammy and ML got started, I received a message asking for a new story. (Of course, when you do that, you might wind up as the editor on that story like hotshow - so be warned. It's not exactly a paying position and she's just wonderful about quick responses and coming up with suggestions that get those creative juices flowing.) You ask, and I do my damnedest!! Thanks again!
Chapter Twenty-five
Dean approached the house with a cold, hard lump in the pit of his stomach. He had a pretty good idea what might be wrong with Bobby, and it was his fault. He never should have sneaked out. Bobby and that damned priority list!
Dean opened the front door, but there was no sign of their old friend. He found Bobby pouring something powdered into a measuring cup in his workshop. "Hey, Bobby," he tried to sound casual.
"Aren't you supposed to be outside working?" Bobby asked, voice hard and cold. Yep, Dean was right.
"Thought I'd take a break," Dean said, sliding a leg over an old office chair leaking stuffing. He sat on the edge, unwilling to lean back into a position he might not be able to get out of by himself. "So what's going on?"
"I'm working on a spell to vanquish the gremlin," Bobby replied, no warmth in that voice.
He cleared his throat, distinctly uncomfortable. Dean hated this touchy-feely crap, but Bobby was a good friend. Bobby was probably the best friend he had, aside from Sam. "I guess you understand Dad a little better these days, huh?"
Bobby paused in his work to glance over. "What?"
"All the crap Sam and I put him through," Dean explained. "Can't really blame him for being kind of moody, can you?"
Bobby's face cracked into a small smile. "You were like this with your daddy?"
Dean shook his head. "Worse. You got it easy by comparison." He grinned. "We like you."
Bobby blew a snort through his nose. "Hate to see what you do to people you don't like."
Dean's grin widened. "That goes for you, too. Well, guess I'd better get out there before Sam puts a car on the roof."
"I'd appreciate that," Bobby replied with a nod. "And Dean?"
Dean paused at the doorway, looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"You pull a stunt like that again, and there won't be rocksalt in my shotgun."
Despite the fact Bobby looked serious, Dean grinned even wider. "Yes, sir."
He headed back outside, waving to Sam to get out of his crane. Sam looked like a puppet unfolding from the cab, all legs and arms. "What happened?" Sam demanded, a little breathless. "What did he say?"
Dean let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Dude," he breathed, closing his eyes.
"Was it that bad?" Sam whispered. Dean heard the anxiety lacing his brother's words and the way his voice hitched on the word 'bad.' It was all he could do not to break out laughing, but he held it in.
"We have to cook dinner tonight." Dean squinted through his closed eyelids to see his brother's reaction.
"What?" Sam asked, taking a step back. "He's mad because… Damn it, Dean!" Sam's face flushed red when it finally hit him.
Dean chuckled. "He'll be fine, Sammy," Dean assured his brother with a wave of his hand. "He's just not used to being treated like Dad."
"I didn't… I wouldn't… But we…" Sam fumbled for words, increasing Dean's temporary enjoyment. "Oh, crap. We did, didn't we?"
Dean nodded. "Yep."
"Any idea why he went after Dad with the shotgun that time?" Sam asked. "So I know what to avoid in the future?"
Dean shook his head. "All I know is, we better get these cars to match that symbol before Bobby comes back out here, or else."
"Or else what?" Sam's voice came from his back as Dean headed for the crane.
"I don't know and I don't want to find out!" Dean shouted back, climbing up on the crane. He wondered once this gremlin was taken out, if Bobby would let him play a little domino rally with the cars. God, that would be so awesome!
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Bobby grunted as he carefully measured out a teaspoon of dried, crushed leaves. They treated him like John? Dean was right, it was no wonder John had been such a moody son-of-a-bitch. Actually, Bobby now wondered how John managed not to beat those two into submission. He really underestimated John, needed to give the man a whole lot more credit. It had always been clear how much John cared for his boys, the way he was so protective to the point of shielding them from nearly all the hunting community. Bobby had seen how Dean doted on his daddy and how Sam wanted to be the same, but John kept disappointing him time after time. Where Dean would take any kind word and any time at all John had to spare with relish and gratitude, Sam expected those things in bulk. Now he saw the results of that kind of childhood and he was amazed, again and again, at just how well those boys turned out.
But they were still a royal pain in the ass.
He checked his list of ingredients again, running through the spell, when he heard a shout from outside. Concerned, Bobby headed through the house to peer out his front window. It looked strange outside, the familiar stacks of cars restacked and rearranged in the new formation. He strained his ears to listen but he heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even the crane. A chill working its way up his spine, Bobby snatched a shotgun near the door and headed outside.
Warm dry air blew in his face, carrying specks of dust that ground against his cheeks and scratched his eyes. Bobby ignored it, scanning the area for the Winchester boys. The silence was overwhelming, oppressive. Within the heavy mantle of silence, Bobby crept forward, shotgun at the ready. He approached the crane, reaching out with his free hand. It was warm to the touch. He padded around it, an old hunter like him able to keep his footsteps soft and quiet.
As he rounded the corner he spotted a dark boot in the dirt. Cursing under his breath, Bobby moved slowly toward it. The boot was connected to Dean, who was sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. With shaking fingers, Bobby reached for the boy's neck. He found a strong, steady pulse. Relieved, he cast his eyes around for the younger brother. After checking the immediate area and finding nothing, Bobby decided to try rousing Dean.
"Dean?" he whispered, shaking the young man's shoulder. He had to shake several times before the muscles under his hand tensed. "Come on, Dean. I can't find Sam."
Sharp, bright eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Sam," Bobby explained, helping Dean to his feet, "I can't find him. What's the last thing you remember?"
"Uh," Dean rubbed both hands over his face before staring around the yard blankly. "I'm not sure. We were moving the cars, like you wanted. Sam tried telling me something but I couldn't hear him, so I cut the engine on the crane. I went to go see what he wanted…" One hand smoothed over the back of his head as he winced. "That's about it."
"It must have lured Sam out. Damn fool, I thought he had more sense than that," Bobby growled.
"Usually," Dean agreed, anxiety creasing his features. "Come on." Dean nodded in the other direction. Bobby followed a few steps behind. Dean drew out the gun with the holy water bullets.
What bothered Bobby more than Sam being lured out was the fact the boy did not come to his older brother's aid when the gremlin attacked. That had to mean Sam was already incapacitated, and Dean really did not react well to his brother being hurt. No matter what they found in the next few minutes it could not go well.
Dean rounded the next stack and froze. Bobby nearly walked right up his heels. Before looking ahead, he caught sight of Dean's face. All the color drained from it, leaving a ghostly white pallor. A hard lump formed in Bobby's stomach as he dragged his eyes from Dean's extreme reaction to the source.
A pile of cars stood in front of them, a pile that was not supposed to be there. Bobby scanned the cars, one part of his brain wondering why it was there and trying not to listen to the other part of his brain that told him exactly what must have caused it.
"I'll check it out," he told Dean, thrusting his shotgun into the boy's hands. "You cover me." Some life returned to Dean's face and he tried to shake his head, but Bobby squeezed his shoulder. "I'm getting old, Dean. I don't think I could drag both of you out."
Dean's eyes locked with his for a tense moment. "Hurry up," he snapped, eyes sweeping the area. Dean was one of the few people Bobby completely trusted watching his back.
Bobby looked for openings in the stack, hoping for the best. He found an open space like a tunnel where the sides of two cars met in a peak. Bobby lay on the ground to wriggle his way between them. If it weren't for Dean's busted ribs, that kid would be doing this. As it was, Dean would probably do it anyway and come out with a punctured lung or something. Bobby couldn't allow that. He came to the end of these cars right up against another, but there was still enough space under that one for him to peer through. He saw a hand. Swallowing hard, Bobby pressed under the next car, reaching for the hand. It was still warm. He fumbled around, unable to see what he was doing, until he happened on the right spot to feel for a pulse. It was hard to tell, but there seemed to be a steady pulse, just a little too weak for his liking.
He pushed back, moving out of the stack. Once out, he turned to Dean.
"Well?" Dean demanded, jaw clenching so tight a muscle twitched visibly.
"He's in there all right. I can't tell how banged up he is, but there's a pulse." Bobby waited a moment for Dean to process that. Dean turned hard eyes on him, waiting. "Go get the crane."
The shotgun was back in his hands as Dean spun around. The boy ran for the crane, not that Bobby could blame him. In moments he heard the engine fire up and it came his direction. Bobby directed Dean on which cars to remove. When the upper layers were gone, stacked in piles to either side, Dean cut the motor.
"I don't like the looks of that," he said, pointing out the cars in the center that were at odd angles, resting precariously on each other.
"Me either," Bobby agreed. "Maybe that's enough for me to get Sam out."
Dean's brow furrowed. "Uh, Bobby. I'm going in there." His voice left no room for argument, but that never stopped Bobby before.
"Dean, somebody needs to be on that crane in case one of those cars shift," Bobby argued.
"Yeah, and that should be you," Dean pointed out. "It's your crane. I never used the freaking thing before today."
He hated when Dean's logic was better than his. "I'd feel better if you were out here watching our backs."
Dean handed over the gun with the untested holy water bullets. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing. He's my brother, Bobby."
Bobby could do nothing but nod as he watched Dean slide through the remaining cars. When he heard the creaking of metal on metal, he held his breath, keen eyes watching for the telltale signs of a collapse. Heavy breathing reached his ears long before Dean emerged dragging Sam behind him. Bobby let out the breath he had been holding, rushing forward to help.
Blood oozed from a nasty gash on the side of Sam's head, just above his ear, matting and clumping the hair. Bobby helped lower the younger brother to the ground, getting a good look while Dean stood panting.
"Couldn't…get him…to…wake up," Dean puffed out.
Bobby nodded tightly. "I think we're going to need Doc Wayne." He turned concerned eyes on Dean wondering where the brothers kept Dean's pain meds. The older boy obviously needed the stronger ones now, but Bobby knew he would never go get them, much less ask for it.
Dean turned over his cell, proving to Bobby just how much pain the boy was clearly in. Doc Wayne sounded more panicked over the phone than Bobby felt, but an ambulance was on the way.
"I want this thing, Bobby," Dean growled, kneeling over his brother. Hard eyes scanned the area. "I really want this thing."
Bobby nodded. He felt the same way.