You know, I kinda think that the house Bobby lives in now may be one he could've bought after his wife died. But I'm not sure ^^;
And it seems John is starting to act more like the father he should've been all these years :)
Also, I met the voice-actor of Dean Winchester of the Supernatural: The Anime on Facebook :D His name is Andrew Farrar, but he goes by his rapper pseudonym, Annakin Slayd :) He is awesome! I love most of his songs, especially 'Loud', 'Feels like '93', and 'MTL Stand Up' :) I suggest u listen to him! He is amazing! And the only rapper I like XDD He is super friendly and very nice :) It was an honor meeting him! *A*
*Fangirl moment over XDD* Anyways, hope u like this. Thanx for reading and reviewing! *Glomps*
This ep takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"
Supernatural: Eric Kripke! :D
Bobby set about cleaning the blood off of the coffee table while John stood at the foot of the stairs, worriedly looking up at the floor above him with unease.
"You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna go up anytime soon?" Bobby asked, walking past John with the blood-stained rag in his hand. He tossed it into the garbage bin before joining John's side.
"I promise ya those stairs won't bite," Bobby smirked. "Believe me, I already made sure of that when I bought the place."
John looked over at him and chuckled, shaking his head. "You always were the superstitious type."
Bobby smirked. "Hey, I take no chances. Now go. Those boys need you."
John nodded and started ascending the stairs.
SPNSPNSPN
John could hear Dean's complaining from his position halfway up the stairs.
"Ow! Geez, Sam! You're supposed to be helping me, not killing me! Ow! Okay, now I know you did that on purpose! Ow! Bitch!"
John arrived at the doorframe just in time to see Sam tap out and speak his snarky remark. "Stop being a baby, jerk. I barely touched you that time."
Dean had been sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Sam kneeled before him, an open first aid kit on the sink's ledge beside them. Sam was gingerly dabbing away the excess blood with a piece of gauze and cleaning out the wound with peroxide. Dean winced and hissed from the sting of the medication, gripping the edge of the sink with one hand while his other rested on Clare's back. She was lying in his lap, offering any amount of comfort she could. She hated seeing Dean in pain, and hissed softly each time Dean yelped or groaned.
Sam just rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Relax, Clare. I'm not the bad-guy here."
Clare responded with a growl and a quick swish of her tail as Dean winced again when Sam applied more to the wound, securing it with a butterfly bandage.
"There," Sam tapped on Dean's shoulder, "all done. Now that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Do I get a lollipop for being a good boy?"
Sam chuckled. "Good? You complained the whole time, bro. I don't think doctors reward stubborn children."
Dean playfully slapped Sam upside the head. Though he couldn't see or hear where his brother was, he somehow knew his exact location. "Shut up."
Sam laughed and helped Dean stand, Clare jumping down and keeping near Dean. Sam jumped as he turned towards the door, seeing John standing there. He hadn't heard him approach.
"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "Didn't mean to scare you. Dean okay?"
"Sam?" Dean questioned, puzzled as to why they suddenly stopped. His heart began to palpitate.
"It's just Dad, Dean." Sam tapped on Dean's back in a reassuring way, sensing Dean's unease. Dean let out a relieved breath. He had feared that some monster or demon was nearby and was about to attack him and his brother.
Sam then addressed John. "The gash wasn't too deep, like I said before. It seemed he managed to miss the corner of the table."
John swallowed queasily. "He missed it by a fraction of an inch."
Sam's face paled and he looked down at Dean worriedly, not realizing just how close they had come to a serious medical emergency. He felt his throat constrict and he gulped, trying to loosen it back up. He wrapped an arm protectively around Dean's waist, hooking his index and middle fingers through the first belt loop he felt, as he grabbed Dean's right arm and placed it over his shoulders, holding his wrist in a possessive grip.
Dean flinched and tried to pull away, but Sam just held on tighter. With his hands full, Sam couldn't tell Dean that he was just helping him. But it was more than that. Something Sam didn't want to tell Dean. Sam didn't want to admit that anytime he left Dean alone, he feared that he may lose him again. He didn't want to let Dean out of his sights any longer than the time it took to blink.
Sure, he had just been in the adjacent room from where his brother was resting earlier, but he was too distracted with talking to Bobby and his father to pay attention when his brother tried to make it to the bathroom. Sam then felt another realization jolt through him. If Dean hadn't fallen and had made it to the stairs, what if he had gotten struck by the disequilibrium halfway up? He could have fallen and broke his neck! Sam's face went a shade whiter.
"Sam?" John's voice was laced with concern. "Are you okay?"
"I-I'm fine, Dad," Sam replied almost monotonously.
"Sam..." John said with a warning tone. It was translation for 'Don't you dare lie to me, or I will beat your ass.'
Sam sighed as he started helping Dean, who grumbled all the way, out of the bathroom and towards the room the two shared at the end of the hallway. "I was just thinking, is all."
"About what?" John gently pressed.
"Dean could've died today," Sam responded quietly.
John's eyes widened. "Sam, even if he did hit the corner, I'm sure he wouldn't have died."
"I'm not talking about that!" Sam snapped.
He stumbled as he lost concentration, causing Dean to yelp in surprise. Sam quickly regained his footing and hoisted his brother up further. He tapped his apology quickly as Dean growled at him.
"Jeez, Sam, I've always known you had two left feet!"
Sam rolled his eyes, obviously too upset to crack a smile at his brother's teasing.
Apparently, John wasn't in the mood for games either. He fixed his younger son with a stern glare.
"Sam, what the hell are you talking about? How else could Dean have almost died?"
Sam waited to answer, biting his lower lip as he realized that there was no way of backing out now, till they reached the guest room. He maneuvered Dean over to one of the two beds that occupied the far wall and gently deposited him on the clean linen sheets. He tapped Dean's shoulder, telling him to lie down and rest for a bit to allow him to sleep off the disequilibrium and allow time for his wound to heal properly.
Dean all but grumbled his protests as he was forced to lie back. He then turned onto his side and snuggled into the pillow. Sam smiled softly and pulled the blanket up to his big brother's chin, smoothing it around him.
"You dare tuck me in, and I will smother you in your sleep," Dean mumbled sleepily, making Sam chortle.
"Whatever, you say, Jerk." He gently tapped on Dean's forehead.
As Dean's pale eyes slowly drifted shut, he uttered, "Bitch" before succumbing to his fatigue. Clare meowed and jumped on the bed, making her way up to the head of the bed and lying down right beside Dean, closing her eyes.
Sam stood up straight, wanting to stay with his brother longer. But he knew that John wasn't finished with him just yet. He could feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull.
"I'll be right back, big brother," Sam whispered, his hand ghosting over Dean's forehead. He then sighed and turned back to his waiting father, who was leaning in the doorway. Sam stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he could, knowing there really was no point. But it just had been a habit of his. If he had been the first one up, he had always been as quiet as he could so he wouldn't disturb his still slumbering sibling.
John crossed his arms and waited for Sam to begin explaining himself.
So Sam took a deep breath. "What if Dean was able to get to the stairs?" he said quietly.
John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, forcing Sam to continue on with unease, feeling queasy the more he thought about it. "Dean could've been halfway up the stairs when the disequilibrium hit him. What if it had?"
Realization sparked in John's eyes. His expression softened. "Is this what you've been worried about?"
Sam looked down at the ground, scuffing the dusty hardwood floor with the toe of his shoe, before he looked back up at his father, tears in his eyes. He nodded.
"Sam," John sighed and suddenly wrapped his arms around his youngest son's shoulders. Sam accepted this rare show of affection and wrapped his own arms around his father's back and began sobbing.
"I c-can't go on like this, D-Dad!" Sam hiccupped through his tears.
"Shh, Sammy, it's okay," John whispered, stroking the back of Sam's head to comfort him.
"That witch almost k-killed him once...then that demon tried to. And now he nearly cracked his head open. A-and even if he hadn't done that, he could've fallen down the stairs and broke his neck!" Sam clung tighter to his father's jacket. "That's one too many times I nearly lost him!"
"But Sam, Dean's alive because all those times there was someone to save him." John tried to gently explain. But he was cut off as Sam pushed himself away to glare at him. John felt a chill run up his spine at the fury that suddenly flared in the young hunter's eyes.
"Yeah! But what if next time there's no one to save him? Like I said before, he's too vulnerable in his current condition. We can't afford to let him out of our sights anymore."
"Sam," John wanted to say more, but he thought arguing with his son would just fuel his anger. Besides, they had fought too much already. The last time they had really gotten into it, it forced Sam to storm out to live a new life. And he really didn't want that to happen again. So instead he smiled. "You're right, Sammy."
Sam's eyes widened. Did his father just agree with him? He couldn't believe it.
"Christo," Sam said, watching his father closely for any signs of demonic possession.
John just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Shut up, I'm not possessed."
Sam laughed, his anger melting away. "Just had to be sure."
John gave his son's shoulder a firm squeeze. "You look beat, too, Sam. You should go and get some rest as well. I'm sure you and Dean earned yourselves a few good hours."
Sam was about to protest, that he needed to stay awake so he could look after Dean, but a yawn interrupted him. John smirked.
"Alright, Dad. You're right. We'll catch some rest and figure out what to do tomorrow, okay?"
John nodded. "We will save Dean and get him back to his smart-ass self, don't you worry."
Sam smiled and yawned again, turning to the door and opening it. "Night, Dad."
"Night, Sammy."
Sam then shut the door gently. John could hear him moving around inside. He didn't need X-Ray vision to know that Sam was first checking on Dean, staying near him for a few minutes. John then heard the squeak of a bedspring as Sam finally sat down on his bed. He heard Sam stretch and lay back. Soon after, a pair of soft snores emanated through the aging wood of the door. John's eyes filled with tears as he placed a hand on the door.
"I never forgot that you two were my sons, and I'll make sure that I won't ever do so."
John then stepped away and headed back downstairs.
TBC...