Fighter
The drive to the crap shack Bobby stayed at was short. His flannels were pushed to the side to reveal the murder wall of information regarding whatever the hell he was hunting. Dean spoke, "Good old Bobby-Always covering up his tracks." Why not showcase your wall to the front door if that's what you think covering up looks like. Sam responded, "You make heads or tails of any of this?" Your eyebrows raised, "Give me an hour and maybe." The paper pinned to the center caught your attention, "Silene Capensis." Dean scoffed, "Which, of course, means absolutely nothing to me." Sam pointed to an article, "Here-obit. Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, University Neurologist."
"How'd he bite it?"
"Um, actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up." Both men looked to you tentatively. Like they were waiting for an outburst of some sort. "It's fine guys, really. He's not dead and that means we keep a level head and work the case. No code red. So, let's say Bobby was looking into this guy's demise, and whatever he was hunting got the drop on him first." They contemplated it and Dean leveled out. "Okay, you two stay here, see if you can make heads or tails of this."
"What are you gonna do?"
"I'm gonna look into the Good Doctor myself." He left and Sam sighed, removing the entire bulletin board from the wall. You pondered it, looking for a starting point. Well, the odd looking plant is always a good subject. The shutter of your phone camera caught Sam's attention. He gave you a smile and the pity was practically pouring out of him. "Hey, mind if I go out to do some research? I don't know how productive I'll be sitting in a room." Sam nodded at you. "Anything you need, just let me know." I need to get away from the support station at the moment.
You hadn't planned on it, but you found yourself sitting in the plastic hospital chair next to Bobby's bed. If anyone asked, you were looking for physical clues, but in reality, the only person who was allowed to see you panic had to be unconscious. I swear to god Bobby, you better be fine. Large 6'4" footsteps invaded your privacy. You couldn't bring yourself to turn and see the puppy dog eyes. "How is he?"
"No change." After exhaling, you turned to find both brothers in the doorway. Looking to you, Dean asked, "What did you find out?"
"Well, considering what Dean explained about the Doc's experiments, Bobby's murder wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense."
"How so?"
"This plant, Silene Capensis, also known as African Dream Root, it's been used by Shamen and medicine men for centuries."
"Let me guess-they dose up, bust out the didgeridoos and start kicking around the hacky." Sam laughed and picked up where you left off, "Not quite. If you believe the legends, it's used for dream-walking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads."
"I take it we believe the legends." A snarky comment was in order, "When don't we?" Dean glared, but Sam ignored it, "But dream-walking is just the tip of the iceberg. This Dream Root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with enough practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good you could turn good-"
"Yea, we got it." A bit bitchy, even for me. "Sorry...So, let's say this Doc was testing the Root on his patients, one of them gets angry, then decides to get even."
"But what about Bobby, I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?" A silence swept the room before you answered, "He's a fighter."