Even though Dean knew that Bobby wanted to talk to him that night, get him to open up about the feelings that he had been trying so valiantly to suppress, he resisted it. It was almost impossible to put into words how much he missed Caleb, and how the the very thought of what had happened to him, made him sick to his stomach. It was much easier for him to quietly process all the hits that came their way without actually verbalizing what he was feeling. It was easier for him to go someplace quiet and lick his wounds without having to spill his heart out like a freakin' girl.

Especially with something like this, something that was so heartbreaking for him to go through. For the first time in their lives, he would have to live through seeing Caleb go on trial for something that he hadn't even done, and be faced with the prospect of losing yet another person in their ever-growing list of people. It was impossible to divulge those kinds of feelings to anyone, even someone who knew him so well like Bobby did. It wasn't something that most people had the displeasure of going through, and so for him to attempt to explain what he was going through, he didn't think he had it in him. Laying solitary in his room after dinner, trying to avoid the inevitable discussion that he knew Bobby was angling to have with him, he tried to busy his mind with one of the many comic books he had taken to collecting. It was something that, for at least a few minutes, dulled the pain he was going through, and he would do anything if it meant getting a few moments of that blessed peace.

"Hey," Bobby said, venturing into the darkened room.

"Hey," Dean replied, glancing over at Bobby, as he finally put his reading material aside, dreading the conversation that he knew Bobby wanted the two of them to have, and also trying to find a way to dissuade him from bringing up that unwanted topic. "What's up?"

"Not too much," Bobby replied easily, as he took a seat on Dean's desk chair, trying to give him the personal space that was so important to him, even more so now when everything in his life was so dark and unpredictable right then. "Just wonderin' when you were gettin' around to cleaning up this room." He cast a dramatic look around at the floor, which was partially hidden underneath clothes and hunting gear. "I forgot what the floor looked like."

Dean rolled his eyes, he knew what Bobby was trying to do. "I'll get to it when I get to it, old man."

Bobby nodded. "So, what's your noggin thinking about with all this?"

Dean shrugged. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't talk about this. I wouldn't even know where to start with it." It was the truth; his brain was so chock-full of different emotions and feelings, that sorting through them now, would be nearly impossible for him to accomplish. Avoiding Bobby's piercing gaze, he hesitantly started throwing clothes off the floor and carefully arranging his hunting equipment.

The room did look better now that the tan carpet was visible, and he saw Bobby shake his head in amusement when he tossed some more things under his bed. It was something that always got him in trouble when Jim was alive, and watched him perform that haphazard cleanup duty.

"That's true," Bobby said, nodding. "It all feels like too much, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod, as he raised his hand to his face to wipe more of the moisture away. "I can tell you that I'm sick of crying."

"I can understand that. What do you think about going back home?"

"For the trial?" Dean asked quietly, trying to ignore the horrible feeling that he got whenever the issue of Caleb's trial came up.

"Yeah."

"It would make more sense than having you go back and forth."

It would make much more sense logistically and in every other way if they stayed in Minnesota for the few weeks that Caleb's trial would go on. It would save Bobby a several hours long commute back and forth each day, and would also alleviate most of their fears at being separated from one another during such a crucially critical time for them.

"That's right, and I would be able to be with you boys a lot more, and not have to drive all that distance back and forth." Even though the safe house was safe for the boys to be in, Bobby still didn't hold a lot of confidence in leaving them over long stretches of time by themselves.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding, biting down on his thumb. "If we were to go back, though, how safe would we be?"

"When CPS was first making their case," Bobby explained, as he leaned foreword to address the issue with the thirteen-year-old. "I went ahead of you guys, and installed some of the wards."

"Good."

"Do you want to go?" Bobby pressed, clearly sensing an issue with the idea of leaving, and he wanted to make sure that Dean was on the same page as he and Sam were about going.

"Yeah. I want to be closer to Caleb while all this is happening. There's just a lot there that brings up bad memories, and it will be hard to have to deal with all that stuff."

"That's very true, with Jim dying and now Caleb."

Dean nodded, his green eyes momentarily shining with tears, before he expertly hid them away. "Yeah. I know Sam's excited about going."

"Oh, yes," Bobby said with a chuckle. "He's already talking about wanting to go back to school, and reconnect with his buddies."

"Typical," Dean said, shaking his head in faint amusement. "When do you want to go?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure."


Walking through their house after so long away from it, Dean tried to ignore the keening sense of loss that permeated every single room in their home. The kitchen that had once been home to so many games and family meetings, was the last place they had been together as a family before finding Jim in those woods. Swallowing back the unexpected lump in the back of his throat when the memory of Jim was brought up, he forged ahead in his quiet inspection of the place, as his hand ran over the smooth surface of the counter. Moving on from there, he made an immediate right to the family room.

Nothing had changed: the same family pictures were still hanging proudly on the walls, and the same large screen television and recliners were stationed there. It was home in the truest sense of the word, and yet all that Dean associated with it now was pain and loss.

Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of those unwelcome, intrusive thoughts, he turned and went up the stairs. Pausing outside of Jim's closed bedroom door, he hesitantly pushed the door open. It had remained closed for so long after his death, and when they had finally been able to emotionally stand it, they had packed up some of his things. The room still looked the same, and still contained the warmth that was characteristic of Jim. The only things that his family could not stand to move was his Bible, and his sermon materials that they had left on his desk and the neatly made bed that showed a stark contrast to the rest of his family.

The last stop on his personal tour, was his and Sam's respective bedrooms. They had long ago stopped sharing a room, and instead had settled for having their own rooms right next to each other. His room was the same, slightly messy one he had left it in, and that was comforting to him, as he dropped his duffel bag on the bed. Pushing back his covers, his breath hitched sharply when he caught sight of the newspaper article detailing the spirit hunt. It was the first hunt they had gone on after Jim's death, and also the spirit that caused the injury to his arm. Looking past it was hard, but he forced himself to move on to his brother's room.

Sam's room was the orderly, neat one that he had come to expect from his little brother. Sam was downstairs with Bobby still; he hadn't had the chance to come upstairs and inspect everything like his brother was doing now. Sighing once he finally finished his personal tour, he went back downstairs to join Bobby and Sam. They were seated around the island counter. Bobby was dishing out the pizza he had gotten on the way there, and Sam was busy stuffing his face full of the delicious treat.

"Hey," Bobby said, looking up when Dean finally entered the room. "We were wondering what you were doing."

"Just looking around," Dean said with a shrug, as he settled himself between his brother and Bobby.

It had been over six weeks since he had last stepped foot inside their house; not since before Caleb's arrest when the decision had been made to make a run for the safe house.

"It's been awhile since you boys have been here," Bobby noted, looking between Sam and his brother.

"Yeah," Sam said, "it feels good to be back, though. Are we going to stay after the trial is over?"

"I don't know that yet."

"Okay."