Chapter 6

"Bobby, are you sure you're okay?" Sam's voice was soft as he sat at the kitchen table gripping his coffee mug so tight his knuckles had turned white. He still felt shaky and weak. The reality of his vision and coming face to face with the demon that had killed their Mom and had taken their Dad had left him dizzy, sick and angry. His head throbbed two beats faster than his heart and his stomach was still so unsteady that Sam hoped he could keep the coffee down. But he pushed aside his pain and focused on the man sitting across from him, hunched over his own mug of steaming black saving grace.

"Bobby?" Sam's voice, though low in tone, sounded deafening to his own ears. It was just the two of them in the kitchen. Dean was upstairs cleaning up.

"Bobby, answer me. Are you-"

"I'm fine Sam," Bobby's voice was gruff and a bit unsteady but he looked up and met Sam's stare as he took a sip of coffee."You had a vision this morning," Bobby stated matter-of-factly, "And I'm guessing that vision came true just now upstairs, am I right Sam?"

"I should have said something earlier," Sam said, "I should have mentioned my-my vision but I didn't know that-"

Bobby waived his hand, dismissing Sam's explanation.

"I ain't mad at you kid," Bobby's tone was rough, "I'm just worried. So let's forget about me. How are you? And tell me the truth idjit."

Sam's lips curved briefly into a wry smile at hearing the affectionate word that Bobby enjoyed using and then the smile was gone and he sighed heavily. Sam took a sip of coffee.

"Honestly?" Sam said, " Physically, I feel weak. Sick. Like I'm getting over the flu. My head is pounding."

"I have aspirin for that,"Bobby replied.

"I know. Thanks." Sam's voice faltered and he quickly took another sip of hot coffee.

"I can see you feel bad Sam," Bobby said, his eyes sharp and narrowed as he studied him, "I can see the shaky hands, the sweat and the green and white face combination you have going on there. But, how are you?"

"And do not say 'fine'," Dean said, coming into the kitchen and heading for the sink. He washed his hands, dried them briefly on a towel and then poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Bobby. He studied his younger brother across the table.

Sam fought the urge not to wince under Dean's scrutinizing gaze.

"You look like hell Sammy," Dean finally said.

"I know. I feel like it too," Sam confessed. "But-" He hesitated.

"But?" Bobby said before Dean could open his mouth.

"I'm angry. I mean, I feel this heat inside my veins that won't go away. Like fire. I feel like my blood could start boiling any minute. Ever since I had the vision, I just feel so angry." Sam's voice trailed away and he looked down intently into his mug of coffee. There was a short silence. Dean broke it.

"That's how I feel too Sammy."

Sam raised his eyes and met Dean's gentle stare.

"I mean I've been angry ever since we lost Dad," Sam hurriedly said, wanting, needing to explain,"I'm not trying to say I wasn't but these visions…and then seeing the demon…I've wanted revenge for both Mom and Dad and Jessica but it just feels a bit different now for me…I just want…" Sam's voice broke and he cleared his throat and looked down into his coffee mug again as he felt the tears glisten his eyes.

"You just want what son?" Bobby asked softly.

The kitchen was silent for several minutes. Bobby could see Dean watching Sam so intently and with a concerned look only an older brother could give. But he waited. He was patient.

And then finally Sam looked up and his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his face was tired and pale but he took a deep breath and said firmly, his voice only the slightest bit unsteady with emotion, I just want to feel normal."