In the silence of the shabby room, Bobby struggled for ideas. Tried to think if there was anyone he could call. So many of his old hunter friends were dead now though, and those that were left almost certainly couldn't help him with this. He'd call them anyway, just to be sure. Sam would never forgive him if he didn't try everything.
The door opened and Sam came in, carrying two lidded coffee cartons, and bag of donuts. He looked straight over at Dean, hope immediately fading from his expression as he saw there was no change… at least not for the better at any rate. He didn't really know why he had thought there would be. He'd only been gone 20 minutes.
Bobby took a coffee cup from Sam and carefully prised off the lid. The stupid things were so flimsy he'd lost count of the number of times he'd splashed scalding coffee over himself, but he was damned if he was going to drink out of the ridiculous plastic spout in the lid. Sam's coffee lay, untouched, alongside the bag of donuts.
"You not having any Sam?"
"No! Funnily enough Bobby, the sight of my brother dying right in front of me hasn't filled me with a desperate need for coffee and donuts!" Sam glowered at Bobby, at once mortified by his outburst, but too angry to take it back.
Bobby was taken aback. He'd really only ever seen Sam behave this way with John. It was only when he heard the faintest murmur from Dean's bed, that he finally had an idea.
Sam had gone straight to Dean's side when he heard the barely perceptible sound.
"Dean! Wake up!" He shook his brother's shoulder quite roughly, desperate to get a response.
"Stop that Sam, you stupid idiot!" Sam turned incredulous eyes on Bobby, only to find Bobby holding a finger to his lips, and silently indicating that Sam should move away from Dean and come towards him. Bobby had started scribbling on a scrap of paper. He held it up for Sam to read. "Fight with me" Sam said nothing but turned a puzzled expression on Bobby.
Bobby pointed urgently at the message before speaking again, his tone of voice uncharacteristically angry.
"What the hell is wrong with you Sammy? Why can't you leave that poor boy alone, can't you see he needs to sleep?"
Finally, it dawned on Sam what Bobby was trying to do.
"What the hell would you know about it? I know Dean better than anyone and trust me he doesn't need to sleep now!" He shouted back at Bobby, at the same time, nodding to indicate he understood.
They were rewarded by more unintelligible sounds and agitated movement from Dean's fragile form on the bed.
Sam was encouraged.
"Bobby, I don't even know why I bothered calling you! I waited three hours for you to get here when I could have been trying to help Dean. For all I……"
"Don't you dare! I swear if you try to blame me for Dean dying…"
"Stop!"
Dean was awake! Sam and Bobby quickly moved to either side of the bed and between them, very gently pulled him up, so he was sitting. Sam had to support his head, and as he did so, he saw tears begin to spill down his brother's face. At the same time the creature on the floor started to wail. The two seemed to be inextricably connected.
Sam watched, appalled, as Bobby gingerly picked up the thing and placed it next to Dean on the bed. The wailing stopped immediately, and the tears dried on Dean's sunken, pale cheeks. Dean's arm curled around the creature and his whole body visibly relaxed.
Sam let go of Dean's head and he flew to the bathroom. Bobby heard him retching seconds later.
Dean's eyes had fluttered closed again, but he appeared to be sleeping peacefully and dreamlessly this time, so Bobby followed Sam to the bathroom. Sam was kneeling on the floor, leaning over the toilet. Bobby felt kind of awkward, but the sight of the distraught young man in front of him made him pull himself together. He rubbed Sam's back gently between his shoulder blades until the heaving subsided. Grabbing a washcloth from the sink, he ran it under the faucet to dampen it and handed it to Sam.
"Here Sammy. You okay son?"
Sam took the cloth and buried his face in it. He was pretty sure he was cracking up. Nothing made sense.
"Uh, yeah, sorry Bobby. I'm okay. I just…I don't…I…"
"It's alright Sam. This is pretty bizarre, even for me."
"Really?" Sam didn't know whether to feel relieved or even more terrified. Bobby had seen everything, surely?
"Sam, we need to keep it together and figure this thing out. Are you done hurling?" His words may have seemed a little curt, but there was no mistaking the depth of feeling in Bobby's voice.
Sam got up off the bathroom floor and followed Bobby out to sit at the small table across the room from the beds. For some reason he found he couldn't look at the bed where Dean and the creature lay. Just thinking about it made his gorge rise. Swallowing thickly, he sat down opposite Bobby.
"Okay Sam. I think we need to focus here."
"On what?"
"Dean."
"What the hell do you think I've been thinking about?"
"Keep your voice down Sam."
"Oh! Okay! Let me get this straight. When you say something, I should just go along with it, because you know everything, right? Guess what Bobby? That is MY brother lying there with that thing that YOU put there. That is MY brother dying. You don't have a fucking clue…"
"Sam."
"Fuck off!." Sam dissolved.
Bobby's heart broke. Christ, all he wanted to do was to make it better for Sam. The little guy he had been part uncle, part parent, part friend to since he was born. He adored Sam. He'd have done anything for him.
But not this time.