STALKING HORSE

Chapter 7

This was originally going to be the last chapter, but my muse and I have been having a little Winchester party, and as it started getting a bit long, this is now the last-but-one chapter!

The brothers and Bobby return to base to do some patching up. Expect a little bit of pain, a little bit of caring Sam and awesome Bobby and … sleeping Dean - HUZZAH!

Reposted today because I noticed a couple of typos ... :-(

xxxxx

"Sam, s'at you?"

Sam stifled an involuntary sob as his brother spoke his name, "Yeah, dude, it's me" he smiled tearfully, rubbing Dean's back. "Everything's fine now, man; it's all over!"

Bobby grinned, "C'mon boy, let's get you out of those bracelets!"

Sam soothed his brother while Bobby unlocked the cuffs one by one cringing as the metal separated wetly from raw, bloody flesh causing the elder brother to cry out.

Once the cuffs were gone, Dean grunted hoarsely as his battered shoulders took the weight of his arms, gingerly bringing his forearms up across his chest trying to find the most comfortable place to nurse his torn wrists, and discovering there wasn't one.

Dean looked up at Sam, "Y-you're shiv'rin", he grasped Sam's shirt, "an' soaked …"

"Long story, dude!" smiled Sam.

Dean turned to Bobby, wide-eyed, and received a warm smile. "C'mon y'idjit, we need to get our asses back to the motel and get a hot drink down our necks!"

Sam and Bobby helped Dean to his feet, and the three men, exhausted, bruised and shivering, stumbled back to the truck.

xxxxx

The motel door opened and the weary Winchester brothers limped into the room, followed by Bobby. Sam sat Dean at the kitchen table and squatted down to look at his wrists.

The light of the motel room highlighted the full extent of the ugly damage. Sam gagged at the sight.

Dean looked at his wrists in queasy dismay then looked up at Sam.

"Hey, bro' we need to get these cleaned up!" Sam said, far more cheerfully than he felt.

Sam felt strong hands grip his shoulders, and spin him in the direction of the bathroom. "Ya ain't doin' nothin' before ya have a hot shower an' a hot drink – you're damned freezin'"

Sam protested; "But, Bobby, what about …"

"What about nuthin'?" Bobby scolded, "ya shiverin' so hard, you'll hurt him more than you'll help him." Sam's indignant glare twitched into a smile. "I'll sort out his wrists … now GIT!"

Sam glanced at Dean who was looking up at him smugly. "Yeah – go on, GIT!" the elder Winchester teased in a plausible impression of Bobby.

Sam grinned, "Bite me!" he mouthed.

Dean looked at his brother's bloodied, bruised nose and swollen, darkening eyes, "Ugh, no thanks – damaged goods!" he smiled, but the smile didn't run deep. Deep down, he knew that he was responsible for that damage and that knowledge tore him to pieces.

Bobby filled a bowl with warm water and poured a generous amount of pungent antiseptic into the bowl, turning the water milky. He distracted Dean from his unhappy thoughts when he placed the bowl on the table in front of him.

"Okay son, get ya wrists in there."

Bobby tenderly lifted Dean's left forearm, taking the weight so his shoulder didn't have to, and lowered it into the water.

The antiseptic stung murderously on the open wound and Dean used all his self-control not to cry out. He knew to do so would have Sam dashing out of his warm shower to check on him, and that's where the kid needed to be right now, warm and comfortable and taking care of himself, not out here panicking over something he couldn't help.

Dean opened his eyes to see Bobby crouched down next to him looking square in his pain tightened, sweat-beaded face.

"Okay kid?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah" gasped Dean breathlessly.

"Ready for the other one?" asked Bobby.

Dean took a deep breath, "Yeah, as I'll ever be!"

Bobby gently lifted Dean's right forearm, and placed it in the water.

Dean buried his face in his shoulder to prevent Bobby seeing his agony as the antiseptic stung and burned the raw wound.

Dean felt Bobby gently splashing the warm water over the backs of his wrists to ensure that both wounds were fully cleaned.

He turned to the older man, "what about your hand?" he asked, looking at Bobby's grazed, swollen fingers, a dark bruise blossoming across them.

"Ah, nuthin' much – just got a bit squashed earlier on." He carried on rinsing Deans wrists, and realized Dean was still staring at the back of his hand.

"It ain't broken or nuthin', I've had worse in the yard – so quit ya worryin'!"

Dean smiled up at him, still not convinced.

Bobby tenderly lifted Dean's wrists out of the bowl and carefully laid them on a clean pillow case he found in the room's stash of spare linen. Using it to dab them dry, as gently as he could, he finished the job by bandaging each wrist, carefully and neatly. Dean admired his work, "thanks Florence, great job!" Bobby gestured to slap him round the side of the head.

They both turned on hearing the shattered bathroom door creak as Sam stepped out. Dean's tortured shoulders reminded him sharply that they weren't going to be tolerating any kind of movement for the forseeable future, and he let out an involuntary yelp.

Sam was at his side in a moment.

"Shoulders are just a bit stiff, no problem," grunted Dean, his hunched posture speaking volumes about exactly how 'just a bit stiff' they were.

After a much needed hot coffee, Bobby got up and stretched, "think I'll turn in guys!" he yawned and headed towards the door. The brothers looked at each other. "Where ya goin' Bobby?" asked Dean.

"Goin' sleep in the truck – give ya both some space!" announced Bobby, gathering up his things.

"No way" both brothers snorted in unison, "you deserve a night in a warm, comfortable bed as well as anyone tonight!" Sam added.

Bobby glanced at the room's two beds, and back at the Winchesters.

"We can share!" said Sam, "It's not like we're strangers or anythin'!"

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean smiled mischieviously, "only, you haven't let him eat any burritos today, have you?"

Bobby laughed.

"Cos, if you have, you can share with him – I'll sleep in the truck!"

Sam scowled and drilled a bent knuckle into his brother's tender shoulder.

"Owww … bitch!"

Bobby smiled and dropped his cap on the bed; "morons!" he chuckled.

xxxxx

Sam switched off the bathroom light and climbed into the bed beside his brother.

"G'night Bobby…" he murmured.

"G'night boys … " came Bobby's gruff voice, muffled by the blankets.

Silence settled over the room.

"G'night John-Boy …" Dean's voice broke the silence.

"Idjit…!"

Just as he had the terrible night of the Kelpie encounter, Sam wrapped a long arm around Dean's chest, tugging him in tight. To Sam's almost unbearable relief, unlike last time, Dean's body wormed backwards, moulding and curling into the warm, comforting presence of his brother's chest.

xxxxx

Bobby lay in the darkness staring at the ceiling. He was deeply touched by the Winchesters' concern for him and their kindness. He loved these boys as he would his own sons, but he was also a realist. He knew they had bridges to build after the recent terrible events and he was determined to give them the privacy to do that.

As the first light of dawn crept across the room, he slipped out of the bed. Glancing across to the other bed, he saw an untidy mop of dark hair spread across the pillow, of the older Winchester, who appeared to have been completely overpowered by both quilt and brother, the only visible sign was a bare foot hanging off the end of the bed.

Bobby scribbled a short note and left quickly, closing the door silently behind him with a fond smile.

xxxxx

tbc