Warnings: Depression, Suicidal thoughts.
Shout out to Queen0fHearts, who not only has no idea what she signed up for putting up with me but beta'd this in no time flat, so I could have this posted with my Tuesday updates ^^
Chapter 2
Bobby hadn't expected it to get easier, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to walk any time soon. Still the constant thoughts running through his head on how useless he had become weren't something he had been expecting. Though he did his best looking for a way to pull the plug on having Lucifer topside, it was working just as well as his research in trying to get his legs back. There had been moments, more than he would like to admit, where Bobby had considered taking himself out of the picture. Every morning he looked to his gun, one he set beside his bed at night, and every morning he held it in his hands wondering if this would be the day he put it to his mouth.
Each day was getting harder and harder for him to continue, and while he knew Sam and Dean needed his head in the game, Bobby couldn't focus enough to truly be there for his boys which set him off even more. When they contacted him about a witch being able to reverse the years of someone's life, he hadn't been able to stop himself. It had been a challenge to get into his van and load it up with everything he would need, and for a moment he wished he had let Sam and Dean build him a proper ramp for his damn chair.
A few hours later Bobby was sitting across from his only hope, a witch who seemed amused by the very idea of him winning back his legs. When he lost, when he felt the life drain out of him, Bobby didn't know what he should have felt, but relief wasn't what he had been expecting. He would be dead soon. Though he shouldn't, the thought caused such a rush of relief that Bobby couldn't help but look to the witch in almost thanks.
The witch for his part didn't say anything but had nodded to Bobby, and, though he wished he didn't, Bobby felt he could understand the witch a bit better, almost accept him. Then Dean was laying down his years on the line, and he went from thanking the witch to wanting to watch him burn; sadly, he was in no condition to fight anything let alone a powerful witch with youth on his side. As the boys fixed his blunder and finished the hunt, what he told Dean wasn't something he was proud of though it didn't make it any less true.
He was useless, or at least he felt it. Often it was hopelessness that surrounded his mind. There was nothing for it; he couldn't walk, and while he knew he could still research for the boys and try to find a way out of the situation they were in he still felt like he was useless without his legs. He couldn't even go to the damn grocery store anymore without it costing him an extra hour just to get everything inside his house, and while he knew there were a few people who would be willing to help him around town, he wasn't going to ask.
They already thought he was the town drunk, why let them know he was also the town charity case? As he left the boys again, Bobby tried to think of something, anything he could do to make this better, so he could be a part of it again. The lore he was working on was a dead end. Everything was different variations saying the same thing. Eventually Heaven and Hell were going to have their prize fight, and no matter who won humanity was going to end up being collateral damage.
Glancing at his bookshelf once he made it inside, Bobby sighed before wheeling over and picking up another book to take to his office. Something caught his eye while he was setting the book down. It was an older book, a collaboration made by some explorer of all the different variations of the Apocalypse. Setting on his shelf, unless the boys had moved it into the office for easier access, was a wooden stake. The blood along the tip was embedded into the wood, long ago turned brown from the surrounding air, but it was there none the less.
Bobby couldn't help but remember the case; it had been one that stood out among the others. While he hadn't explained it to Sam or Dean, the Trickster wasn't the first one he had run into, and he was certain there were more out there giving their delicate touch to justice. The one who had killed Dean on repeat though, he was something else. Anansi had toyed with Bobby when he was a new hunter, had tried to kill him or teach him a lesson, but even he hadn't been powerful enough to manage time in a loop.
From what Bobby had managed to get from the research Sam had riddled off after his time hunting the thing -a conversation that never reached Dean's ears- there was only one possibility on who it could be. Gods, demi or otherwise, got the bulk of their power from people believing in them, from people worshipping them. Anansi had his power from those who had believed before he went into retirement, but the trickster Sam had been against wasn't conserving his energy. He was working without losing any power.
There were only so many gods believed in any more, and only a few of them were tricksters. It didn't take long for Bobby to be able to narrow down the list, and while there were still a few that could have been who he was looking for, most didn't seem to fit what he knew of this trickster. It took Bobby a while to gather what he needed; the herbs hand been fine, but he had needed to substitute on the blood. Hopefully whatever illusion Dean had killed that night in the college would be enough to at least draw the god's interest.
Cutting his palm onto the stake while chanting, Bobby struck a match and threw it on the wood which was being held in a large metal bowl along with several herbs. Closing his eyes for a second, Bobby tried to will his summons to the god, hopeful he was praying to the right one. If he was lucky, Bobby would be able to convince the trickster that they could work together. While he doubted Sam or Dean saw it the same way he did, Bobby could see how in his own way the creature had been trying to teach them a lesson.
Hopefully he would be willing to help try to keep the world spinning. Opening his eyes, Bobby called out the name he hoped was right, putting enough force into his voice to call the being forth.
"Loki."
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