Sam had had enough evasion. There were only so many times his offers to help with research could be negated, and as vested and as determined as he was, if he had to review the security footage one more time, he was going to rip his own eyeballs out.
Spying Bobby at the bar, Sam didn't think twice as he grabbed a drink and settled himself next to the older hunter.
"So, level with me here Bobby," he began, not bothering with the preamble. "What's going on with you guys?"
"How'd you mean?"
"I mean with this whole set-up you guys've got going. It's like a… like a backwater CIA research HQ. Like you're all working on some big special ops mission or something."
"The Roadhouse? A CIA HQ?" Bobby laughed incredulously in response to Sam's summation. "How many of those light beers you had already Sam?"
"And since when did Dean start mixing with other hunters?" Sam continued, ignoring the elder hunter's attempts at deflection. "I mean I know for a fact it's not something he picked up from Dad."
"Yeah well," Bobby shrugged, smile diminishing a little. "Life on the road can get pretty lonely, especially if you're going it alone. Can you blame him for making a few friends along the way?"
"No of course not…." Sam replied quickly, letting the unintended jibe slide, understanding that it was only his own sense of betrayal and shame that had made Bobby's remark feel directed at him, as if blame for Dean's lonely existence lay with Sam somehow. Somewhere inside, Sam knew it partially did.
"Frankly I'd be happy if Dean had a social network he enjoyed," Sam continued, honesty striping his voice to contrition and leaving it bare. "It'd be reassuring actually… 'Cept what I've seen of Dean while he was here, with everyone? He didn't seem very sociable…. Or friendly for that matter."
"Well that's just Dean. Your brother's not exactly gonna win any Mr Sparkling Personality of the Year awards."
Sam laughed lightly, rolling the beer bottle between his hands till his smiling features slowly creased back into a frown. The lines deepened as the feelings he hadn't been able to shake since he'd burst back into Dean's life began to crawl their way back up his spine again.
"No it's more than that," he insisted. "He's… different somehow. I don't know what it is, but he's… He's different to how he used to be. The old Dean? The one I remember? He would've loved this place. Would've been the heart and soul of it."
"What makes you think he isn't? When he's not working I mean. He's in the middle of a case, don't forget. Searching for your family. And besides, you two have been apart… what is it? Coming on seven, eight years now? That's a long time Sam. People change."
"Yeah but not like this. This is… I don't know what it is Bobby, but he seems… Darker somehow. Distant. And like there's a weight on him or something, you know? Like he's keeping a secret. It's not just the case. And it's not just him either. I know there's something else going on here, with all of you. Something you're not telling me."
"I think you're just imagining things son," Bobby replied, taking a swig of beer.
"No," Sam responded, shaking his head. "No, I don't think I am. I know when people are lying to me. Or hiding things. Call it an acquired professional skill."
Bobby huffed. "Right, I forgot. You're a hotshot lawyer now." He considered it for a moment. "Look, I'll admit, maybe the others don't feel comfortable talking openly 'bout hunting with you around coz… well, frankly, coz you're not a hunter, not anymore. But that's just the way hunters are around outsiders. Around civilians. They get skittish. Force of habit. You were probably no different back in the day, so I wouldn't take it none too personal. And as far as Dean goes? You know how your brother gets. Always did take things to heart, especially when it came to saving people, hunting things. And the last few hunts," Bobby shrugged. "They've been tough."
"Yeah but it's more than that," Sam persisted, leaning in earnestly. "And I know, I know, the hunting life, it can get to you. It changes you. But Bobby it didn't change him the whole time we were growing up, didn't change him for over two decades. Not like this. And then what? In the space of a few years, it suddenly gets to him?"
"You've been gone a lot longer than just a few years Sam." Bobby re-joined quietly.
"I've been gone from hunting longer, yeah, but Dean and I, we still spoke to each other after I'd left for Stanford. Even if I wasn't hunting anymore, we didn't cut each other out completely. I mean sure, it wasn't much, just the odd call here and there but still, we stayed in touch for a while. I even saw him a couple of times. Only briefly, I admit, but long but enough to know he was still… him. Enough to know he wasn't like this. This is different."
The older hunter sighed, looking away. He may have intended to prevent Sam from reading anything in his expression, but the action in itself told Sam all he needed to know. It confirmed his suspicions, so he pressed on.
"Look Bobby I know I've not been around but I can tell something's wrong with him. Just like I can tell there's something going on here that everybody else seems to know about and it's just… It's my family that's missing and I feel like a third wheel. I'm not helping, with anything. And you're right, I left this life, I chose to leave Dad and Dean, so I have no right to be let back into the hunters club or whatever, I get that–"
"No one blames you for leaving son," Bobby cut him off gently. "Hell! This life? Most of us would get out if we had half the chance. If we had something worth getting out for."
"I get that," Sam acknowledged, appreciating the absolution but not allowing it to distract or dissuade him. "But it's not about that. I know you think I've been gone a long time but…," he shook his head, looking away.
"Look," Bobby said when the silence had grown a touch too long. "I know you've got a lot on your mind, what with Jess and your son–"
"It's not that. Not just that."
"Then what? I'm telling you, whatever you think–"
"He's my brother, Bobby," Sam stated softly, meeting the older hunter's gaze unflinchingly. "He's still my brother. I know him. No matter how long I've been gone, I still know him better than anyone. And maybe no one wants my help with research, or they don't trust me or whatever. Fine. But no one's got any right to lie to me about Dean. Not when I can tell there's something going on with him."
"Sam–"
"I can tell Bobby. Whatever else I do or don't know about what's going on out here, I know him. And right now? I know something's wrong. I can feel it. Hell, I'd have to be blind not to see it. And if he's out there for me, risking his life for me? The least I can do is try to help him. So just… Just be honest with me Bobby. Just tell me."
Bobby stared at him a moment before sighing as he shook his head wearily. "Sam I… I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Just tell me what I've missed. Fill in the gaps for the past couple years, that's all."
Bobby sighed again, but this time the action held a note of resignation. He removed his cap, running a hand over his scalp as he did so.
"Alright," he said at last, replacing the head gear as he stood. "But if we're doing this," he looked down at their half empty beer bottles. "I'm gonna need something a hell of lot stronger than that."
-oOo-
They were resettled at a booth with a bottle of whiskey between them, Bobby having poured them both a shot before Sam had even settled. He drained his completely and poured himself another while Sam waited.
"How much do you know about how your Daddy died?" he asked Sam finally.
The question caught Sam off-guard for a moment and he shook his head. "Not much. Just what you told me at the funeral; that he got jumped by a demon."
"Not just any demon," Bobby clarified. "John was killed by the same demon that killed your mother."
"What?" Sam reacted, shock causing his voice to rise. As far as he'd been aware, they'd never actually known what had been responsible for his mother's death. But now it seemed that not only had John found out, but that it had cost him his life. His brain caught up slowly and the instant it did he felt a surge of resentment. "Why didn't you tell me? At the funeral, why didn't you or Dean or anyone tell me?"
Bobby shrugged, shaking his head in defence. "We didn't know. Not then anyway. Not for a while after either; John wasn't exactly one for sharing, if you recall. But he'd been tracking whatever killed Mary since day one so it's not surprising he found it in the end. That's what he'd spent his life doing after all, hell-bent on revenge, dragging you boys all over God's green country in the process. Was only a matter of time 'fore he'd eventually track it down. Then few years back he finally did. Found that demon-eyed sumbitch. Was on his tail a good long while too, 'fore the end. Didn't let anyone in on his final plan though, not even Dean I don't think, not fully. Just decided it wasn't anyone else's fight but his. Damn stupid bastard." Bobby shook his head remorsefully, the reproach in his statement tempered by a deep regret, forcing him to take a breath before he could continue. "Best we could tell, John summoned it, tried to kill it, but something went wrong. Not sure what."
Sam had wondered about John's death. Of course he had. There were unresolved emotions there, regret and sadness, obviously. But there were also questions that he'd never vocalised. Questions he'd never fully confronted, not even within himself. Things he'd meant to challenge Dean about, but after their father's death, time had somehow slipped away from Sam and he'd never had the courage to pick up that phone, especially given how Dean had been at the funeral. With everything that was going on now though, thinking about John's death wasn't something he'd been prepared for at all and the memories and feelings seemed to tumble into him all at once. He realised his throat was dry and took deep swallow of whiskey. Bobby watched him, as if measuring his reaction, then nodded ruefully as he refilled Sam's glass.
"Yeah, your brother he… took it badly too, to say the least. Hell! We all did. For John to be taken down by a demon like that, and that demon, of all things, even if we didn't know it at the time. Should never have happened," he shook his head again. "But it did, and Dean he… well, you saw him at the funeral. Barely waited for the flames to go out before he left. I didn't see much of him after that. I'm guessing then, that's around the time you two lost touch too?"
Sam nodded, and Bobby mirrored the action and sighed.
"I'm not surprised. Anyways, after the funeral, Dean took off 'fore I could talk to him. Stayed gone a good long while too. I'd hear from him every now and then, he'd check in occasionally, when he needed intel on some hunt, or when I left too many messages on his phones. But that was about it. For the most part, he was incommunicado, hunting solo. Once in a while there'd be hunters passing through here talking 'bout how he'd saved their hides from something or other. Or there'd be stories filtering down, we'd hear 'bout some impossible hunt that some hunter had walked away from. The hunter'd always end up being Dean. Became somewhat of a… I don't know. Legend, I guess you'd call it. Took out a horde of demons up in Death Valley, an entire vamp nest in Austin, whole pack of werewolves in Arkansas. Ghosts, Wendigo's, Rugaru's, you name it. Hell! He killed monsters we don't even got names for yet. Seemed like there weren't enough evil sonsofbitches out there for him to hunt to appease whatever the hell it was he needed to lay to rest."
Sam stared into the amber liquid in his glass, a wistful smile ghosting over his features despite Bobby's dark revelations. "Dean always was a good hunter," he remarked ruefully, a sliver of admiration creeping into his voice.
"Good?" Bobby countered, slightly irritated. "Sam what your brother was doing goes way beyond good. It was downright reckless. It's the way someone hunts when they got nothing to lose. When they don't care whether they live or die. And after your Daddy, Dean he just… he just sort of let go. The fact he didn't end up dead is probably as much dumb luck as it is his hunting skills."
Sam let the words sink in.
"I didn't realise," he said at last, shame and regret colouring his voice. Thinking back, it hit him hard. After their father's funeral, Sam had needed Dean, more desperately than he'd done so in a long time. But he'd been so caught up in his own personal trauma, he hadn't considered that perhaps Dean might have needed him too. He should have known that though. He would have, he realised, if he hadn't been so selfish.
"Your brother," Bobby continued in a soft, sad tone that pulled Sam's attention back from his morose private reveries. "He's good don't get me wrong. Easily the best. But he needs to be needed. Needs to be looking out for people. To be taking care of people. But he's also that special kind of idjit that believes no one should be taking care of him. And he's just dumb enough to believe that with your Daddy gone, there was no one left for him to look out for. Hunting alone, with no-ones back to watch but his own, and not really giving a rat's ass what happened to it?" Bobby shook his head. "I tell you Sam, your brother, he was in a dark, dark place back then. If I'm honest? I didn't expect him to come back out alive."
Bobby trailed off, staring into his tumbler and for a moment the two men sat in silence, each reflecting on the fate of the person they both cared so deeply for.
"But he did come back," Sam encouraged after a while, and Bobby looked up, huffing in response and taking a long sip of whiskey. "'Cept that's not what changed him is it." Sam supplied after a beat, sensing that the story was far from over.
"No," Bobby admitted grudgingly. "Not in the way you mean at least. I know something happened to him all right, when he was out there in the wilderness, but he was still, how'd you put it? 'him'. But… was around that time he caught wind of a case up over in Mississippi. Town called Greenwood I think. That's when he got more… intense. Or focussed. More single minded. Like your Daddy actually in the last few years, and that's what scared the hell outa me. Anyways, he was working a case in Greenwood when he called me full of questions 'bout demon deals and crossroad demons. I knew he was thinking of making a deal to get your Dad back o'course, not that he'd listen to reason when I confronted him on it. But the case seemed kosher; least four or five stupid bastards in that town had made deals and their time had run out."
"What happens when someone's time runs out?" Sam asked despite having guessed the answer.
"Short version? Hellhounds rip the soul out of the body and drag it to Hell. Literally, physically rip up the poor bastards. And believe me," Bobby added, taking a swig of whiskey. "It is not a pretty way to go."
"Yeah I bet," Sam agreed shakily, not knowing how to feel. He'd wondered about his dad of course, as soon as he'd learnt that he'd died at the hands of a demon. Had wondered about whether John had made a deal for something. But he'd seen John's body at the funeral, before they'd lit him up, and he hadn't looked mauled by demonic dogs, or any type of animal for that matter, supernatural or otherwise, his slit throat being the only physical indication as to how he must have died. But the thought led Sam to another question, one he was equally dreading. "Dean, did he… Did he make a deal?"
But Bobby shook his head. "No. Least not that I know of. Besides, nothing happened. Your Mom, your Dad, neither of 'em are back. Nothing changed. 'Cept it was while he was on that case that he found out 'bout Yellow-Eyes."
"Yellow-Eyes?" Sam repeated, not aware of what it referred to.
"The demon that killed your parents. Named Azazel and got sulphur yellow eyes. Dean figured it out. That's why we didn't tell you at the funeral Sam, we didn't know at the time. And when we found out, then, well…," Bobby shook his head. "Well, it was after your Dad was already buried, so to speak. Just didn't seem worth dredging it all up for you again."
Sam smiled bitterly in response. "Especially seeing as how I'd made it clear I wanted nothing to do with any of it." When Bobby began to try to appease him Sam shook his head, negating the elder hunter's efforts with a query. "How? How'd Dean find out 'bout this Yellow Eyed demon? About the connection to Dad?"
"The demon your brother was exorcising in Greenwood, it tried to make a trade for its life, gave up the info while Dean had it trapped. We didn't think much of it at first to be honest, didn't think it was true. Demons lie. But… Well, Dean believed it. Found another demon, got it to talk and it said the same thing and so, well... After that Dean sent your Dad's journal back, told us to pick up where John had left off with tracking Yellow-Eyes. I knew what your brother wanted to do. I knew he wanted to take Yellow-Eyes down, same as John. I also know he's as stubborn as your father was when it comes to family. I wouldn't have been able to stop him once he got the idea stuck into that damned thick skull of his. So, I figured we may as well just do what he wanted, may as well try. At least that way Dean'd still have reason to talk to us, to check in. So, while your brother was out there raising hell, we started doing some research of our own back here. Ash managed to figure out how to use John's intel to track demon sightings, amongst other things."
"Ash?" Sam asked, unable to keep the scepticism from entering his voice as he glanced incredulously towards the figure now sprawled unconscious on the pool table. "Him?"
"Ash is a world class genius," Bobby stated. "He just has trouble with institutionalised educational systems. Can't say I disagree."
"Okay." Sam conceded, not fully convinced but not thinking it worth the discussion. "So you guys were tracking demons and what? You'd feed the location to Dean and he'd go hunt them down?"
"Didn't have to."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, not following.
"Let me ask you Sam, how many demon possessions you think happen in a year? Ball park?" Sam shrugged shaking his head and Bobby continued. "Usually, three. Maybe four, tops. That year? We had over 27. And we were part-way through the year before we even started counting. Now maybe it was just Ash's system, picking up things we'd normally miss, maybe not. Point is, something was going on. And your brother? He didn't need to go very far to find 'em. Hell, most times, he seemed to be smack in the middle of it."
"Why? Because he was hunting Yellow Eyes?"
The elder hunter shrugged. "Seemed likely. But before we could follow up on it, Ash found a pattern in what Yellow-Eyes had been doing. We found out there were these… special children."
"Special children?"
"Well not children anymore. Adults, from all over. Folks with … powers. Super-strength, mind-control, telekinetic psychic abilities, that sort of thing."
Sam shook his head, again confused. "Okay," he said slowly. "But in our line of work, how is that unusual?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow at Sam's choice of word, noting he'd referred to hunting in the possessive case, but decided to let it slide. "Usually people are born that way," he explained instead. "In these cases? Their abilities manifested a lot later. Well into adulthood."
"OK. So… were they making deals to get these powers? What's the connection to demons? Or to Dean… Wait! Is Dean one of them? A special… child, or whatever?"
Bobby snorted. "No. No he is not," he scoffed again. "Special child my ass."
"So, then what? These special children…? Were they being possessed?"
"No. And they hadn't made any deals neither. But they all had something to do with the demon that killed your parents. He'd done something to them as kids and now… Anyway, when we told Dean, he tried to get to them to get some answers. Long story short, he ended up in Cold Oak."
"What's in Cold Oak?"
"Nothing. It's an abandoned town… Or well, it was abandoned till all the gifted adults turned up there all at once. Dean headed over as soon as we found out 'cept he was too late. By the time he got there, they were all dead. It was like a war zone Sam, a massacre. Looked like they'd slaughtered each other, on the orders of Yellow-Eyes. Every single one of their bodies was accounted for… 'Cept one Jake Talley."
Sam shook his head, the name failing to hold any significance. "Never heard of him," he admitted.
"Neither had we. But he sure as hell started making a name for his self after that. Killing his fellow special children in Cold Oak? That was just the beginning."
"Wait." Sam said, cutting Bobby off from continuing, his brain catching up with something that was bothering him. "You said these special children weren't possessed. So this Jake, he was still human? When he killed the others I mean."
Bobby smiled, impressed with the younger man's skills at having picked up on that. "He's not possessed, far as we can tell, never was. But I wouldn't call him exactly human neither. We don't know what he is, 'cept that him, Yellow-Eyes and a few other choice demons were pretty inseparable after that. Dean was on their trail, got close too, a couple of times, but they never stuck around long enough for him to catch 'em. Probably a good thing. They kept moving like they had a schedule to keep. Made a beeline from Cold Oak all the way to Wyoming."
"Why Wyoming?"
"You ever heard of a Devil's Gate?" At Sam's head shake, Bobby continued. "There's a few of them scattered around the world. They're doorways to Hell, literally, and one of 'em happens to be in Wyoming. In Calvary Cemetery, an old cowboy graveyard. That's what Jake and Yellow-Eyes were aiming to do; open the gates to Hell."
"Why?" Sam asked, then shook his head at himself. "Not that demons need a reason to open the gates of Hell."
"Ordinarily, you're right, they wouldn't. But ordinary demons aren't like Yellow-Eyes, and Yellow-Eyes had a purpose all right. He wanted to kickstart the Apocalypse."
Sam stared at the older hunter blankly. "Apocalypse?" he repeated after a beat, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice. "You mean… the Apocalypse? Like… from the Bible?"
"One and the same. Hell on Earth. When we realised their plan, Ellen and me headed out to meet your brother there, to try and stop it, but none of us got there in time. Not before they managed to do it, to open up the gate."
"Jesus! And it's still open?"
Bobby gave him a look. "Yeah, coz we'd all just be sat around here on our pert little be-hinds if it were. Course it's not! We closed it soon as… But not before some nasty sons of bitches got out."
Sam took a moment to take it all in, finally taking another drink from the tumbler in his hand. "So, clearly, you guys stopped it. Stopped the Apocalypse. I mean, jeez! The worlds still here."
Bobby huffed a humourless laugh. "Since when is life that easy? No, that was just the start. The first step. The Apocalypse comes in stages, but I suppose that's a good thing. Means there's still a chance to stop it."
"So that's what you're all working on," Sam said, comprehension settling in as he looked around the near deserted bar again, at Ash on the pool table and Ellen and Jo restocking the shelves, this time with a newfound sense of reverence and respect. "Stopping the Apocalypse."
"That and catching all the demons that got loose that night."
"And Yellow-Eyes?" Sam asked, dreading the answer. "He's still out there too I'm guessing."
His dread was misplaced however as Bobby shook his head.
"No. Dean killed him, there in the cemetery."
Sam was stunned at the revelation, his face incapable of hiding his shock. "He's dead?"
Bobby nodded and Sam took a drink, letting the confirmation sink in with the warmth of the liquid.
"Why'd Yellow-Eyes kill our Mom?" Sam asked finally. "I get why he killed our Dad, seeing as Dad had been hunting him, I get that. But why Mom? What'd she have to do with anything?"
Bobby shook his head. "I don't know. If John ever knew, he never told me. And if Dean knows, well, he's not the biggest talker these days. Hell, for all we know? It was for no reason at all. Demons don't need a reason to be psychotic murdering bastards."
"But you said it yourself, Yellow-Eyes isn't like other demons."
"True, he wasn't. But I have no clue Sam. It was decades ago. He probably killed a lot more people than we'll ever know 'fore Dean put him down, probably for no other reason than just for the hell of it. Like I said, far as I know, there was no reason at all for what happened to Mary."
Sam looked out across the bar again, not really seeing it this time and instead gathering his thoughts, trying to organise all the information into some sort of order that made sense.
"You think what's happened with Jess and Kyle," Sam said eventually. "You think it's related to the Apocalypse?"
But Bobby was already shaking his head again. "I don't see how. We've been working on this a while now Sam. Keeping tabs on things. Whatever's happened to them, well, it's come as a complete shock. To all of us. If it had something to do with what we've been focussing on, we'd probably have known something by now."
"Probably?"
"You're right, course there may be a chance. But it's unlikely. At least, seems unlikely at this stage. No point worrying about things till we know more… It's why Dean didn't want you to know about any of it."
Sam huffed. "Don't worry. I won't tell him you told me."
"You think that's what I'm worried about?" Bobby snorted. "I don't give two hoots what you tell him, I ain't scared of that boy. Just… Just don't push him for answers he won't have, is all I'm saying. He's dealing with a lot."
The mention of Dean brought Sam back to what he'd been concerned with to start with, and he took a minute to backtrack to where they'd left off.
"You think killing Yellow-Eyes is what did it?" he asked finally. "Changed Dean I mean? You said Yellow-Eyes wasn't like other demons. You think killing him had some kind of knock-on effect on Dean?"
"Not exactly. Least I don't think so. Or I don't know," Bobby mirrored Sam in taking a drink, for his part emptying his tumbler in one quick motion. He filled their glasses again and took another sip, more measured this time, before continuing. "After Ellen and I closed the gate, Dean he… well he disappeared."
"You mean he went back to hunting on his own."
"No, I mean he disappeared. He was gone. Ellen and I never saw him after he killed Yellow-Eyes. We were both so busy tryin'a close the gate, we don't know what happened to him. By the time we were done, seemed like he'd just vanished. Was like he fell off the face of the Earth."
"But you said it yourself, he'd gone AWOL before."
"Yeah, but not like this. As angry and as broken up as he was over your Daddy, he didn't break off completely. Not from me. I'd still hear from him, he'd still return my calls, eventually. Or I'd hear about him at least, from other hunters. But this time? There was nothing. He was … Hell I don't know where the hell he was. We couldn't even locate him on the planet Sam. And we tried, believe me. Psychics, spells, even…," the elder hunter scoffed then, looking away briefly before meeting Sam's gaze sheepishly. "Dammit I even held a séance. You name it. Nothing."
Sam ran a hand over his mouth, feeling the sick, clammy grip of fear tug at his insides. "Why didn't you tell me at the time?" he demanded in a low, gruff whisper. "He could've been dead, for all you knew. And you didn't think to tell me?"
Had it been anyone else, Bobby may have reacted with more vitriol to the accusatory tone. But with Sam, as it was with Dean, his anger was always more tempered.
"I had nothing to tell. We didn't know what had happened. And besides," he appeased, his tone becoming gentler. "Dean had made me swear years ago that unless I had his body to burn, I wouldn't bother you with things that happened to him… I gotta tell you though Sam. You have no idea how close I came to breaking that promise. For what it's worth, I'm glad I didn't have to."
Sam nodded, gritted his teeth and looked down at his hands to prevent himself from saying anything he would later regret. He wasn't even sure who exactly it was that he was angry at right then; Dean for forcing Bobby's hand; Bobby for playing it; or himself for having dealt it in the first place, with his actions when he'd walked out on Dean and John all those years ago.
"So, where the hell was he?" he asked finally, picking up the conversation.
"Damned if I know. Almost five whole months, he was just… gone. And then he turned up back here. Quiet as hell. Wouldn't say a word about where he'd been or what'd happened."
"And that's when he changed? You think whatever happened to him in that time, wherever he was, you think that's what changed him?"
Bobby nodded, refilling both their glasses even though Sam's barely needed it.
"Since Dean's been back from wherever the hell he was, he's been… well different is putting it mildly. Something got to him that's for sure. But damned if he'll open up about it, to anyone. He's pushed everyone away to a ten-mile radius and then some. You don't need to be a genius to see something's broken up in him. And I probably shouldn't have told you any of this but I feel like it's been getting worse. Nowadays he barely ever stops by here, and when he does, barley talks to anyone 'less it's about a case."
Sam bobbed his head, frowning as he remembered how stubborn and closed off Dean could be. Then concern began etching its way into the corners of his mind as he realised that even after all the events since their father's death, according to Bobby at least, Dean hadn't changed. Not really, not deep down. Not until those missing months. Whatever had happened in that time, wherever Dean had been, it must have been something truly horrific to have affected him so badly, when everything else prior to it hadn't. And if Dean had locked everyone else out, people who, unlike Sam, had been there for him over the years, Sam wondered with a sudden feeling of dread, how he could even get anywhere close to his brother when they hadn't.
Bobby studied the younger man silently for a moment, as if he could sense Sam's thoughts swirling in front of him, before he spoke up again, voice sober and sincere.
"I tell you one thing though Sam. The love that boy has for you, it runs deeper than you know. Than probably even he knows. It's the same as the day your Daddy first brought you boys over, and I saw you two there in the back of that car. I swear the way you boys stuck to each other," he shook his head, a fond smile spread over his face at the recollection. "I ain't never seen nothing like it."
Sam looked up, confused, not following the thread of Bobby's thoughts.
"Let me ask you," Bobby continued. "How many friends do you have in your everyday life? I mean people you choose to spend time with when you don't have to."
Sam was still thrown by the line of thinking but went with it despite his confusion. "A few I guess. Three, maybe four."
"And when the proverbial hit the fan," Bobby said, looking pointedly at him. "How many of those friends did you turn to? How many of 'em did you need? I mean really, instinctively need?"
"None," Sam responded instantly, then huffed and smiled, a little embarrassed, comprehension setting in as he relented. "I only needed Dean."
"You two are no different," Bobby snorted in satisfaction. "Same as when you were kids. When either one of you was hurting, the only one who could fix it, was the other. It was like some kind of homing instinct would kick in. 'Cept Dean would never admit to being hurt o'course, would never ask for help. But right now? That boy is in some whole other world of hurt I can't even begin to understand." Bobby surmised, the concern obvious in his voice. "But I can also tell you this much for nothin'; the love he still has for you, it's about the only part of him I can see that he hasn't lost. It hasn't changed since the day I first met you boys. Seeing him around you Sam, around your kids? Even just in the few hours it's been, it's the closest I've seen him getting back to his old self in… Hell! Probably close to over a year now. Probably more. Closest he's come to cracking a genuine smile in forever."
Sam nodded in understanding, remembering the smile he'd spied on Dean during their drive, when he'd been entertaining Deanna. But the memory was overshadowed by the gravity and depth of Bobby's words and as his emotions churned, he had to look away.
"But try not to linger on it," Bobby said. "Whatever else may or may not be going on, it's all shelved till we get your family back."
Sam nodded again but was unable to stop the fear that stabbed at him. "If it's not already too late you mean," he said, forcing the words out, forcing himself to be prepared for the worst, that Jess and Kyle may already be dead.
"Believe me Sam, if anyone can get them back, it's Dean. And knowing Dean? It's never gonna be too late."
"And what if it's too late for us? For Dean and me. What if I can't–"
"You're the only part of the old Dean that isn't broken Sam," Bobby intoned softly, nothing but fond conviction and sincerity in his voice. "Trust me, when it comes to you, Dean's got a whole other personality reserved. I don't think anything can even come close to touching it. Whatever happened to him, whatever he's been through, that's the only part that didn't get broke or lost or dead along the way."
"I hope you're right."
"Oh, you can bet your fancy ass degree on that. I know I'm right. If anyone can get him to open up, it's you. I just… I don't know if you'll like what he has to say if he does."
As Sam nodded and stared into his tumbler, he realised he'd already feared that to be true.
tbc
Kathy - Thank you as always :-) Dean might talk to Stacey (the neighbour), he might not. I won't admit to anything! hehe Glad you're enjoying it so far.
Long Live BRUCAS - Yep, both keeping secrets. Again. No matter the timeline or universe or whatever, some things never change *sigh* You'd think I could control them and make them behave, but I really can't! You're right about the dreams (more on that later), and glad you picked up on Dean's feeling that it was fate for them to be hunting together :-) Thank you again!
Shazza19 - Glad you liked the gun detail, I liked the thought of that too :-) And glad you're enjoying the ride so far, thank you, I appreciate it!
And thank you everyone else who is reading, following, favouriting etc. Will update soon!
AN: Neither of the following impact the story in any way, but are trivia if anyone is interested:
1: The hunts & locations that Bobby attributes to Dean in this (horde of demons, vamp nest etc.) are the ones 'Bobby' attributed to Sam in canon, in the episode Mystery Spot (S3.E11), when Sam was almost sociopathic as he went hunting alone after Dean had 'died'.
2: The demon deals in Greenwood occurred in Season 2 Episode 8 (Crossroad Blues) and were canonically where Dean learnt of John being in Hell etc.
