A.N.: This chapter takes place during 6x17. Mostly the in between parts. I hope you like. It's a bit hard to tell you to enjoy because this chapter is a little bit heartbreaking, you have been warned. Thank you so much for all of you who have taken the time to read, review and favorite this. I can't ever repay your kindness.
Disclaimer: This is not mine.
It's too quiet. It's a notion that seems odd to Bobby as he is usually a man who relishes his silence. But not this uneasy, sadness filled silence... the sound of death.
The boys had finally left and he thought he would get the long sought after peace without those two fretting around him. But he hasn't. Instead, he just feels empty ; a husked out shell of the man he once was.
He reaches for his empty glass. Ellen better get here soon or she isn't going to like what she finds. Of course it wouldn't be the first time she's had to dig him out of the bottom of a bottle. Bobby spent more nights than not obliviously drunk when Dean had taken his little summer vacation to Hell. Equally so when Sam had seen how much his brother got out of the trip and signed up for one as well. Ellen always saved him, reminded him that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that light was her.
He looks at the glass, void except for the few drops of stubborn whiskey clinging to the rim. He tips the bottle into the tumbler and flinches as a shotgun lies across his arm, followed by the perturbed voice of his wife.
"Tell me you haven't been drinking this whole time."
She is pissed. Okay, he had been wrong about her acceptance of how he chooses to deal with this. What else is new?
It's like being kicked in the jewels, the realization that the life you have made for yourself is some fucked up fabrication of a jagged time line. And for the first time in over a week he is mad. Livid really. He's been upset since Rufus' death, but he had been to busy feeling sorry for himself to get mad. Now he is angry. Angry at what or who he isn't sure. But whatever it is; whatever is dangling his life with Ellen in front of him like a worm on a hook, has him more riled up than a bear in a hornet's nest. Just point the son of a bitch at him and he will make sure he is out of commission for the next…oh forever!
He grips the picture of him and Ellen and thinks 'not this, not again. Please God not again.'
He is trying to come up with some miracle plan when she comes stomping down the stairs, and by her tone she is worried. Bobby prays it isn't Jo, that she's okay because he has had enough shit piled on him today, thank you very much.
"That was Jo. Thirty more dead on the West Coast. What exactly do those boys think they are going to do?"
He shrugs, and hopes he sounds convincing when he replies. "It's the boys. If anybody can pull this out of their asses, it's those two."
Ellen looks up as she starts cleaning her shotgun. "Yeah, you ever hear the saying "you can't stop fate."? You know, the cleanest fix would just be to sink the boat."
His head shoots up. "Why would you say that?"
"Well, because, right now they're all dying bloody. It's not the same as never being born."
Bobby can't help the waver in his voice as he retorts. "You're talking about people—people who are loved…who would be missed."
And dammit all to hell, he can see by the way her eyes flash with concern that she knows something is wrong.
"What the hell is up with you?"
He looks down, hoping if she can't look him in the eyes she won't be able to see the fear in them. "Nothing."
Ellen smirks. "Oh please. You are a neon sign. So, I can beat it out of you, or we could just skip that part—dealer's choice."
Bobby gulps. "Ellen, you should sit down."
The words spew from him in a rush of emotion and he gets them out fast. His mouth still stutters on the word 'dead' because it is unfathomable to him that it should even exist in the same time and place as the force of nature that is his wife.
Ellen, who had previously refused his offer to sit, now sinks into a chair.
"Oh boy." she breathes and Bobby wishes he could reel his words back down into his gut.
He sits across from her. "El, it's going to be," He stops. He can't promise her it will be okay, she will see right through the lie anyway.
She looks at him with strength and he wonders where she gets it from and if she would mind sharing.
He falters for just a moment as she leans towards him. Bobby doesn't want to answer, doesn't want to think about a world where they aren't.
"They're not gonna sink the boat. I promise. The boat stays. You don't have to worry."
Ellen drags in a deep breath. "Well…if it's meant to be, then…I guess whatever happens, happens."
He shakes his head. "But that's just my point. Nothing's "meant to be." Whether we're together is at the whim of some dick angel." He stops abruptly, outraged that he even has to have this stupid conversation.
Ellen chuckles humorlessly under her breath. "Oh, Bobby, relax."
Where would he be without her? What would he be? How can he fix this?
"I can't." He sighs. "We need you." He casts his eyes down because he is sure if he has to look into her eyes right now he will break. "Especially me."
Ellen nods as tears fill her eyes. "I know."
He can't look at her. He's terrified that he will watch her blink out of existence right in front of him.
Her hand crosses the expanse of the table to grip his, telling him without saying a word that she is here, right now, with him. The same hand moves to trace the tips of her fingers down his cheek and he shudders.
When she touches him it makes him feel like he is just a man. He is just a man and she is just a woman and they aren't Gods or warriors or murderers or failures. They are beings, capable of error and flaws and of love that has stolen their breath from their lips.
"Bobby."
Not now Ellen, I'm barely keeping it together. I'm using all the willpower I possess at this moment, try again later.
Her hand moves to grip his chin. "Bobby, look at me."
He reluctantly drags his gaze from the oh so fascinating grain on the table and back to her.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, at least not without kicking and screaming." She looks like an amazon, all toughness and grit. Hell if he can remember a time he's loved her more.
She smiles ruefully. "Have you slept?"
The question catches him off guard, so normal is this devastating present.
"What?"
"You. Sleep."
He shakes his head. "There's no time, the boys,"
Ellen stands and takes his hand in her own. "The boys can wait Bobby."
He is already being pulled from the chair and to the couch. "The case Ellen, I need to find something for,"
"There will always be another case Bobby; the boys can manage for a couple of hours." Her hands are gentle on him as they help him down on the couch.
"If I don't help them they will," he pauses.
Ellen strips her over shirt and goes to lie on top of him.
"What are you doing?" he whispers.
"I'm lying on my husband. We are both going to get a couple of hours of sleep and then wake up and hit the books. Both of us."
He can't respond. Wouldn't be able to find words if he tried.
She smiles into his chest as she reaches up and tilts his hat down in a playful gesture. His hand weaves into her hair, digits caressing each lock and her palm rests over his heart.
He wants to freeze this moment, stop and live in it for the rest of his days.
She is okay, Jo is okay, and the boys are okay. Yeah, this seems like a good time to just stop.
His chest seizes up as he halts the intake of air filling his lungs. No more breathing, because even one more breath will mean that time has continued on, that every aching millisecond that passes is one moment closer to that goddamn ship sinking, to fate stealing away Ellen with barely more than a rustle of sound.
He can't do it. He can't lose her.
She pushes up by his ear and whispers brokenly. "Just breathe Bobby. Breathe."
And, because she tells him too, because it means that she is still there and that they are still together, he does.
It's too loud out here. She can't even think. She kicks the tire of the car in frustration. Stupid universe. Stupid flat tire.
It feels like it takes far too long for her to get the tire changed, and all she wants to do is be with Bobby. Hold his hand and tell him that it will all be okay, because it has to be. She needs him too much to think anything else.
She dials him for what feels like the millionth time and is surprised to hear Dean on the other end of the phone.
"Dean?"
"Hey Ellen."
"Hey. How's Bobby?"
"He's fine. Yeah, he's doing good."
She shakes her head. One of these days someone is going to figure out that it is not a good idea to lie to her.
"Listen up Dean Winchester, I'm going to be home in about ten minutes and I need to know what I am coming home to."
There is a resigned sigh from the other end. "He has a happy buzz going on. He's doing okay."
"Okay? Really? Cause you sound like you about choked on that line you just tried to feed me."
Dean forces a chuckle and Ellen can almost see his head going down in embarrassment.
"Do you want us to wait until you get here?"
She takes a deep, mind clearing breath. "No, no, thanks for all you two have done. I'll be there soon."
"You sure? Cause we got the time."
She smiles. "I am going to need to whip my husband into shape when I get home, you shouldn't be there to see that."
Dean, god bless him, laughs on the other end. "Me and Sam will boogie then. Call you later."
"Okay. And Dean?"
"Yeah?"
Ellen swallows the lump that has suddenly appeared in her throat. "He's going to be fine. I promise."
"I know. He's Bobby."
And really that says it all.
She shoos him up the stairs as she pulls open the dishwasher. Row after row of tumblers line the top rack. Damn fool, trying to drown his sorrows. As if it ever helps. Didn't help with Dean or Sam and it is sure as hell is not going to work with Rufus.
She forces some food in front of him that he looks at with disdain.
"What is it?"
"It's not alcohol."
Bobby blows on the stew with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't ask what it wasn't Ellen."
"Food Bobby. It's food." She drops the bowl of bread in front of him. "I know you haven't seen each other in a while, but I'm sure you remember where it goes."
Bobby scowls at her. "I'm an old, grumpy drunk, not a child."
Ellen grabs a piece of the bread and bites into it. "Then stop acting like one. Eat."
He raises his eyes to her in a challenge. Stubborn bull headed man.
His hand digs into the bowl of bread yanking one piece from the container. "Fine."
She turns back towards the sink to hide her smile.
When she comes back down the stairs Bobby turns shocked eyes towards her, almost as if he is not expecting her to be there. Which is weird, cause where else would she be?
She tells him about Jo and then muses that sinking the ship would be the easiest fix.
His whole face changes in the blink of an eye. He suddenly looks like a man who has been kicked when he is down.
She tries to ask him what is wrong and he lies to her. Bobby very rarely lies to her and it automatically makes worry swell up in her chest.
She quips some stupid remark about how he can tell her or she can beat it out him and he looks at her with such sadness that she almost doesn't want to know what's wrong.
He gulps, his Adam's apple making a frantic motion in his throat. "Ellen, you should sit down."
She wants to tell him to slow down, to take it easy because the words that are coming out his mouth are confusing and jumbled and then he stutters on the word dead and she feels a cold sort of dread creeping up her spine and she sits because she has to, her legs seem to have lost the strength to hold her up.
She pulls the bottle from the middle of the table and pours herself a belt of whiskey.
Her and Jo dead. Jo and her dead. That doesn't seem fair. Not with everything they have given up already, not with all she would be leaving behind. She needs Bobby.
He echoes the sentiment just as she is thinking it and her heart breaks a little bit.
She tries to assure him that they will be okay, that they have to be. They are Ellen and Bobby and a whole lot of shit has tried to come between them before.
She watches as the exhaustion, the worry, and then finally the grief steal the light from his face. She understands in that moment exactly what he is feeling. He will be alone because she will be gone.
She coaxes him from the table and to the couch. He needs to rest, they both need to just be able to rest.
She is counting his heartbeats when his breath hitches and the soft pitter patter suddenly becomes a frenzied rhythm. She chokes back her tears because she knows, she just knows that Bobby is trying to stop breathing. Because then everything will be forced to stop, and they can just be. God, can't fate just leave them alone for one moment? Doesn't she have enough grasped in her greedy little fingers?
His eyes are screwed shut as she pushes up towards his ear.
"Just breathe, Bobby. Breathe."
And he does. His breath saws out of him in stuttering sobs that he is doing his damndest to stifle.
"We're okay Bobby. You and me. It's just you and me."
When he finally relents and starts to doze off, Ellen traces the planes of his face with one finger. She's never known happiness like she has with this man. And she wishes like hell that the boat doesn't have to sink. But she's no idiot; the boys will do their best to keep it from happening as much as out of love for her as for Bobby. But in the end, you can't stop fate.
She squeezes her eyes shut as she lays back down on him, his breath stirring the hair at her forehead.
"I love you Bobby Singer." She utters quietly as she plants a gentle kiss to his lips. "Dick angel or not, that will never change."
His heartbeat is slow and steady now, and strong. He will be okay, he's not a quitter.
Ellen just wishes she could be there to see it.
A.W.: All that's left is the epilogue guys. Hang in for one more chapter :-)