"Straighten that shirt, boy," grumbles Bobby, knocking Dean in the back of the head as he goes past.
Dean does as he's told, obediantly running his hands over the white fabric. "You gonna tell us what's goin' on soon, Bobby?"
He should, Bobby knows. Should have already told the two boys but he's trerrified that they will change their mind - because, surely, John will have told them that wizards cannot be trusted. Surely, they know that all those who wield magic so freely never tell the entire truth, always have their own interests in mind.
Can't though. Can't do this on his own, not anymore.
"When we get there, you're gonna understand. Take a lesson after Sam 'nd quit botherin' me," snaps Bobby, and he misses the way that Sam grins and Dean scowls and tension grows a little bit more.
-x-x-x-
The airport is busy and Dean is pale, skin damp with sweat. Bobby looks him over with a critical eye, wonders if he should say something.
Sam beats him too it.
"It's okay, Dean," says the younger boy, and his words are hushed, as though he's trying not to let anyone else hear him.
Dean's fingers clench into the sides of his jeans, then abruptly uncurl, shove deep into his pockets. He doesn't sound angry when he speaks, just stressed. "I'm fine, Sammy. I keep tellin' you to just leave it."
"You aren't fine," counters Sam, and it's the start of a growing arguement if Bobby ever heard one. So he steps in and intervenes before there's a scene, before they miss their flight.
"Somethin' you boys wanna share with me?" he asks, stopping and turning to look at each boy with a steady gaze. When neither of them answer, he frowns. "If there ain't, then yah shouldn't be whisperin' with each other."
Dean gulps but tries to pull himself up taller. Sam shrinks down, against his elder brother's side.
Neither boy speaks.
Bobby wonders if they would have told John the problem. Then he shakes his head, because no one wants to tell John there's a problem, no matter how close they are to the other hunter.
-x-x-x-
As soon as the plane gives its first lurch, Bobby figures out what the problem is. Dean hunches in on himself, fingers clenched tight into the shoulders of his denim jacket and he looks for all the world as though he's about to vomit on his own shoes.
Beside him, Sam is staring straight ahead, like Dean isn't even in the aisle. He's mouthing something too, words not even a whispered breath, eyes never even flicking towards Dean.
It's obviously a practiced motion. Bobby supposes that, whatever Dean's problem is, it's not something they want to draw attention too.
So, as much as he would like to pull the boy over and against his side, Bobby follows Sam's lead and ignores it too.
-x-x-x-
Dean is the very first passnger off the plane, and he doesn't stop there. Stumbles alone through the port and over to the closest bathroom, and Bobby slips in there too just in time to see Dean splashing water over his face.
Sam is waiting outside, and so Bobby decides that now is as good of a time as any to address the first issue of their trip.
"Next time you ain't a fan of somethin', you'd best tell me before we get fifty thousand feet in the air," he grumbles, lips curling into a frown when Dean jumps.
He looks apologetic, but Bobby can't tell if it's over being frightened or over not saying anything. "I didn't have a problem."
"Boy, you had a problem if there ever was one." Bobby snorts, crosses his arms over his chest. "So next time, man up and speak up."
Dean pauses, then gives a weary nod. Bobby already knows that the boy won't say anything the next time either.
-x-x-x-
London is a crowded place, with busy streets and dull looking buildings. Cars honk and whiz by, splashing oil filled water up onto the sidewalk and all who are walking there. Namely Sam Winchester, who gives a loud yelp and scrambles backwards, into his older brother.
"Watch it, Sam!" snaps Dean, and Bobby cannot help but think that his mood has grown even more sour since their plane landed. Then, he cannot help but wonder if the boy acts this way every time they go out on a hunt.
Sam snaps right back,though his voice isn't nearly as sharp and his scowl nowhere near as effective. "Why don't you watch it?"
Dean looks ready to counter, to continue the could-be arguement, and Bobby decides right then that it isn't going to happen. He /knows/ that they don't behave this way when John is around, doesn't want them doing it here either.
It attracts too much attention, and Bobby can't have that.
"Both of you quit yer yappin'!" Bobby gives them both a frown, satisfied when Sam ducks his head and Dean, at least, has the couth to look the other way and pretend to be ashamed.
-x-x-x-
The Leaky Cauldron is a small thing, sitting off to the side of a back street, all but hidden from view. There is no sign hanging above the door with its name, just a dingy little 'OPEN' plaque perched in one dirty window.
"This is it?" questions Sam, and it's not disbelief in his voice but dissapointment.
Bobby gives a low chuckle and pushes the door open, the sound of people chattering filtering outside. "This is it, boys. We're gonna spend the night here, and head out again in the morning."
Dean glances around the inside of the bar and frowns, shuffles a little closer to Sam. He doesn't look happy but he doesn't protest, and Bobby figures that's another trait from being John's son.
When you were given an order, you'd better damn well follow it.
Sam doesn't argue either, but he gives a heavy sigh and drags the toe of his sneaker over the ground. "Okay, uncle Bobby. We're just going to spend the one night?"
"Just one night," assures Bobby, ushering the two Winchester boys further into the wizard bar, over to the counter. "Then we'll get to the real nitty-gritty."
-x-x-x-
They argue with each other, but never with John, not often with Bobby. Just nod and sometimes they sigh but, in the end, they go along with whatever they're told.
It's the quality of a soldier, thinks Bobby, not of two teenage boys and sometimes he wonders what John has done or said to make it that way. More often then not, Bobby doesn't think he really wants to know.
