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Faltered Chapter 12
Bobby spent the morning showing Dean around the shop. It was cluttered but Bobby had a system he needed to make sure his future apprentice knew where he kept things and how he expected things to be kept.
"You need to make sure this jar is closed when it ain't being used." Bobby put the jar of cleaner he was holding back on the work bench between the empty water kettle and a can of ashes.
"This here's wood ash," He pointed to the can "it's good for polishing. Some people bring their guns here for a real good cleaning for that I use brick dust it's more abrasive."
Bobby looked around the shop for what to show the boy next.
His eyes fell on the closed and locked door at the back of the room and Dean's followed.
"You see that door back there? You're not to go in there, understand." Bobby said very seriously. He thought of all the things that were behind the door that no one should ever have to see.
Dean nodded but Bobby wasn't looking at him to see.
"You understand me boy?" Bobby said gruffly over his shoulder.
"Y-yes Sir." Dean affirmed verbally.
"Good, come on upstairs and we'll get something to eat." Bobby's features quickly lightened and he led the way.
The upstairs was modest and not quite so cluttered as the downstairs. Bobby cleared papers off of the kitchen table and moved the books off one of the chair before offering it to Dean.
Dean sat and graciously accepted the bread and cheese that was given to him along with a tin cup of milk.
Bobby joined Dean at the table and they both ate.
Eventually Bobby decided it was time to get back to the matter at hand.
"As my apprentice you'll do chores for me, mostly cleaning and fetching things. In return I'll teach you my trade. It will be hard work make no mistake." Dean sat across from him and seemed to listening, but he wasn't making eye contact which made Bobby nervous. "I need you to look at me boy."
Dean pulled his eyes away from his lunch and tried hard to focused on the man in front of him even though his thoughts kept wondering back to Sammy.
"Do you understand what I'm asking of you?" Dean nodded sincerely. Bobby took that was a good sign.
"Alright now I don't mean to be nosey boy but are you in pain, I mean does that gimp leg of yours hurt you?" Bobby really didn't want to pry but since the boy was going to work for him it was his business. He didn't want to ask something of the boy that he couldn't do.
Dean's hand fell down to its familiar spot on top of his bad knee. Bobby watched as something akin to shame flashed in the young boys eyes.
"It's nothing to be upset about boy. You've lived with it for a long time a lot better than some would." Bobby said honestly not everyone could manage pain.
"I just need to know what you can and can't do. I mean to say if I asked you to bring a bucket of water up the stairs there would you be able to." Dean looked at the stairs for a moment and then back. Bobby saw what he thought was determination on Dean's face.
"If I needed you to turn kegs of gunpowder could you do it?" The look on the boy's face answered that and every other question Bobby had. Goodness the boy had an intensity that reminded Bobby of John Winchester.
"Yes Sir I can."
"Alright Alright son, we will find out soon enough. You just need to let me know and you don't have to call me Sir, Bobby is just fine."
Dean didn't know how to respond to that so he nodded and gulped the last of the milk in his cup.
They cleared the table and headed back downstairs after their lunch.
Bobby talked more about his shop and his work. He was watching the boy the whole time. He was studying Dean. He wanted to get a good understanding of the boy. It was difficult he was a hard person to read. Bobby had always prided himself on being a quick and accurate judge of a person.
The boy reminded him of an old shell shocked war veteran Bobby had met once while working a job down south. Dean had the same world weariness about him.
But when Bobby talked about the work and the guns Dean perk right up, he seemed willing to work. Ready to take direction.
Bobby liked the kid.
Bobby finished showing Dean the last of his wrenches. "Well I think that's enough of me talking for now." The gunsmith grabbed a pistol and a handful of bullets.
"Let's go see what your Daddy taught you."
It was dark as Dean walked down the street alone, the wooden planks of the sidewalk giving off the cadence of his uneven gate in the quiet evening. He was tired but content. It had been a good day, much better than he expected.
As Dean neared Pastor Jim's house it was lit up. It looked warm and inviting, more so than it ever had before.
Dean had barely gotten in the door when the questions started flying.
"How was it Dean?" Sam asked his older brother tentatively.
The Pastor and Sam waited, they had both been waiting all day to see how it went. Dean looked up at them and smiled. It wasn't a huge smile but it was there and Jim swore it was the first time he'd ever seen the boy do that.
After they'd eaten, Jim went and saw Bobby. Both men were equally excited.
"Thank you Bobby whatever you did. Thank you."
Bobby set down the pistol he was cleaning. "Jim why didn't you tell me the boy knew guns?"
"He does?"
"Hell yes he does, that boy bulls eyed every bottle I set up. He's a natural if I ever saw one." Bobby impressed the excitement of the discovery on Jim.
"Well I've never seen him...yes I did see him shoot once, John was teaching him back before he left. " Jim remember John was teaching the boy a lot of things he didn't think Ellen covered in her class. "Well if that's what it takes. Bobby he was smiling, I've never seen him do that. As long as I was visiting those boys out at the farm or had them at my place he's never. I bet he's not smiled like that since his mama died." Jim revealed soberly. he had been worried but now he was sure this was the best thing for the boy.
"Well I think he's going to work out here, so you send him here with his clothes and things, he can stay here during the week and visit you and his brother on Sunday, I've got a spare room upstairs that he can have." Bobby started thinking about what he was going to need to do to that spare room livable.
"Bobby you're a saint, God Bless you." Jim shook the other man's hand vigorously.
"Well don't saint me too soon now, Jim. He hasn't made it thru the week yet."
Bobby opened the spare bedroom that Dean Winchester would use. Bobby almost laughed at the thought he wondered what that old hunter John would think of Dean staying with him.
The room was the smallest room in the house and the other rooms weren't very big. There was an old wooden bed in the center of it with a small table and a wordrobe Bobby had made himself standing in one corning . Setting his oil lamp down Bobby looked around. It had been fifteen years since he'd stood in the room and really looked around. Since then he'd mostly left the door closed not even using the room to store his ever growing book and relic collections.
The room was going to need a lot of work if someone was going to live in it.
Everything was covered in a layer of dust. Bobby sat down heavy on the bed that was still made after all those years and had until that moment been undisturbed. The dust plumed around him, the particles swimming in the lamp light.
Bobby sighed. The room was a reminder of what his life had become.
empty.
He sat a long while until the lamp's wick burnt down and the oil burnt out.
Tomorrow things would change. Tomorrow the room wouldn't be empty.
TBC....