Chapter Nine: Trust
Bobby wanted nothing more than to wring Dean Winchester's neck for his stupidity.
Fortunately for the young man, that would have to wait.
Bobby needed to find Sam first.
"Sam!" the veteran hunter shouted, one hand at his mouth to try and project his voice even further.
He hoped the boy hadn't run too far. It would be dark soon and the hunter did not want the young teen to be alone in the woods by himself.
"Sam! Son, where are you?"
The veteran hunter swept the leaf-littered floor with his eyes, searching for signs that the youngest Winchester had passed this way.
Bobby walked for about five more minutes, squinting through the dense trees and hollering the teen's name before he finally caught sight of the boy's tee shirt through the green of the leaves.
"Sam!" Bobby cried and rushed forward.
The fourteen year old was lying on his side, curled up against the forest floor.
"Sam? Son, y'all right?"
What a stupid question. Of course the boy wasn't alright.
But Sam opened his eyes at the sound of the old hunter's voice.
"Son, let's get you home," Bobby said softly, gently and reached down.
The teen cringed away from him.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Bobby murmured soothingly, "Let me just help you up."
The veteran hunter reached out and placed his hands beneath Sam's armpits- ignoring the fact that the boy was trembling- and lifted the teen into a standing position.
Bobby held Sam at arm's length for a long moment before pulling the fourteen-year old into a bear hug.
"S'alright, son," Bobby murmured, one hand against the back of Sam's head, "It's all going to be alright."
The older hunter didn't let go and Sam didn't flinch away from the sign of affection. Bobby barely noticed at the damp spot forming on the shoulder of his shirt as Sam cried.
After a long while, Sam finally broke contact. He looked up at Bobby and wiped at his weepy eyes.
"Wh-what's happened, B-Bobby?"
"It was a dybbuk that possessed your brother," the hunter told him softly, "The same one that got yer Daddy."
"S-So I'm n-not crazy?" Sam asked, wide-eyed.
Bobby shook his head.
"Yer one of the most down-to-earth young men I have ever met," the veteran hunter said, "If yer crazy, then I'm a monkey's uncle."
One corner of Sam's lip twitched but he didn't really smile.
"Let's get you back home, Son," Bobby said and slowly the two headed through the forest towards the road.
W
Bobby glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye as he drove the Impala back to his Salvage Yard.
Sam hadn't said another word since the forest and that troubled Bobby. The boy's expression was distant, his face almost slack.
He guessed the shock had finally taken hold of the young man.
Bobby just hoped that the damage the dybbuk had wrought this time could be repaired. The veteran hunter didn't care about Sam's physical injuries so much- they would heal in no time- but the psychological and emotional wounds might not.
And after all the boy had been through the past year with his father, believing his brother was out for his blood was the last thing Sam needed.
SPN
Dean drove much to fast as he returned to town and headed in the direction of the motel.
He wanted nothing more than to keep driving, to stay as far away from Sam as possible.
Not because he didn't love his little brother; he did. He would die for his sibling. But because he couldn't bear the thought of Sam being afraid of him.
It had been bad enough since he had taken Sam from the motel room in Delaware, but now, he had been the one to attack his baby brother and make him feel worthless.
Dean was certain Sam would hate him forever now.
He pulled Bobby's clunky old truck into the parking lot of the motel and into the spot right in front of the room. Glancing around the interior of the cab, Dean spied a key fob almost exactly like the one in his own pocket sitting on the dashboard- the key to Bobby's room.
The eighteen-year old grabbed this and exited the vehicle, deciding that he should grab the old hunter's stuff as well.
There wasn't much left in the motel room. Sam had already taken both their duffels out to the Impala on Dean's orders but still the teen checked.
He found a pair of stray socks and a crumpled t-shirt in the bathroom. Other than that, the room was empty.
Dean grabbed the clothes and turned to leave then paused and looked back.
Why had this ever been a good idea?
Why hadn't he listened to Bobby?
Why did he think he was stronger than a dybbuk? His father hadn't been?
Sighing heavily, Dean tossed the shirt and socks onto the passenger's seat of Bobby's truck before heading into the hunter's room.
SPN
Bobby frowned slightly when he saw that his truck wasn't in the driveway of the Salvage Yard.
Dean wasn't back.
Perhaps it was for the best that Sam didn't see his brother just yet.
The young man was still out of it. Bobby climbed from the Chevy and made his way to the passenger side, opening the door and unbuckling Sam's seat belt.
Lucky for Bobby that Sam was small for his age and thin after a year of neglect and abuse. He bent down and gathered the boy in his arms and carried him from the vehicle.
Once inside, Bobby took Sam upstairs and settled him onto bed. The boy stared at the veteran hunter for a long moment before cringing, drawing his shoulders in and whimpering.
"S'alright, Son," Bobby murmured, "I'm not gonna hurt you. Need to look at yer face though."
Sam allowed Bobby to examine his split lip and chin silently, all the while gazing fearfully at the older man.
Bobby decided that the cuts wouldn't need stitches at all, just a good cleaning, and headed into the bathroom to grab the First Aid Kit.
When he returned to the bedroom, Sam was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.
Slowly, he made his way across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Can I help you?" Bobby asked and Sam nodded almost imperceptibly.
Opening the kit, the grizzled hunter took out an antiseptic wipe and tore open its package. Unfolding the moist towelette, Bobby lifted Sam's chin gently with his free hand.
"This'll sting a bit," he warned Sam and dabbed at the gash on the boy's chin.
The boy sucked in a deep breath and flinched once but made no sound. The gash began weeding once it was clear of dried blood and dirt but Bobby could see that it would heal on its own.
Laying the wipe aside, Bobby decided he should check Sam for other injuries while he was at it. Before Sam had had enough and shut him out completely.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked softly.
Sam's arms wrapped around his middle as a response and Bobby frowned.
"Can you lift your shirt up for me, Son?"
Sam grabbed the hem of his t-shirt- one of the new ones Bobby had bought for him, the veteran hunter noticed- and yanked his shirt high.
The boy's abdomen was marred by an oblong bruise that was already a nasty purple hue and a scrape that looked more painful than damaging.
Bobby reached out to feel Sam's ribs- make sure none were broken- but the teen drew away from him, dropping his shirt.
"Alright," the older man murmured, "I think that's enough for now."
Grabbing the First Aid Kit, Bobby stood, "You lie down and get some sleep."
Sam stared up at him with wide green eyes.
"You're safe, Son," Bobby assured him, "I promise."
The hunter turned away and he heard Sam move to lie in the bed.
Bobby put the Kit back in the bathroom and headed downstairs.
In the kitchen he put a pot of coffee on and sat down at the table, taking his hat off and running a hand through his thinning hair.
SPN
Dean stepped into Bobby's house cautiously. He wasn't quite sure what to expect.
"In here," Bobby's voice called from the kitchen and Dean followed the sound, finding the older hunter sitting at the table with a mug of coffee.
"Where's Sam?" Dean asked anxiously.
"Upstairs getting some rest," Bobby told him, "Coffee's fresh if you want any."
Dean poured himself a cup of the dark, hot liquid gratefully and sat across from Bobby.
"How is he?" he asked, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic mug.
"Scared," Bobby said bluntly, "But not hurt too badly."
Dean's eyes pinched.
"It could'a been a lot worse," the grizzled hunter told him.
Dean nodded and took a sip of coffee, the steaming beverage burning his throat on the way down.
"I was going to kill him," he whispered, "I was making him dig his own grave and then I was going to kill him."
Bobby shook his head, "That wasn't you, Son. It was that bastard dybbuk."
Dean nodded once and rubbed at his eyes.
"Speaking of," Bobby said, "Where's the flask?"
"I left everything in the truck," Dean told him.
"We'll get it later," the veteran hunter said, "I've a mind to put that sumbitch where no one will ever find him."
Dean didn't say anything for a long while. The two men sat in silence, drinking their coffee, thinking separate thoughts.
"I'm sorry, Bobby."
The words were so quiet the veteran hunter almost didn't catch them.
"It ain't me you've gotta apologize to," the hunter chastised, "Even though I told ya it was a bad idea."
"I know, I know," Dean muttered, "I just… God! What was I thinking?!"
Bobby gazed at the eighteen-year old sympathetically, "You were trying to save yer brother. You just went about it the wrong way, is all."
Bobby wasn't going to tear a strip off him as Dean had feared. He guessed it was because he already felt bad enough as it was that Bobby didn't want to make it worse. Not that Dean didn't deserve it. He kind of wanted Bobby to yell at him, tell him he was an idiot because the grizzled hunter's soft words were terrible.
He wasn't the victim here. Dean had known what he was doing and he should have known better. Hadn't John taught him better?
Clearly everything his father had told him had gone out the window as soon as he arrived in sunny California.
John would never have done what Dean had just attempted. He would have been smart about it. He would have simply hunted that bastard down until he could gank it, just as he had been doing with Mary's killer.
A fine hunter I've turned out to be, Dean thought sarcastically.
"How's yer head feeling?" Bobby asked, drawing Dean from his thoughts.
"Oh… uh, it's fine," he muttered. Truthfully, he'd forgotten all about the injury in his anxiety.
Reaching up, Dean grimaced in pain when his fingers brushed the gash at the back of his head.
"You want me to take a look at it?" Bobby offered nonchalantly but Dean declined.
"I'll live."
The hunters once more fell silent. They both stood to pour themselves more coffee but said nothing to one another.
Dean was thinking of his brother. Sam had been so terrified before, what was he going to be like now?
Dean hoped he'd be able to be around his sibling without appearing to be a threat.
Sam knew Dean would never hurt him. He knew that since he was six months old. Didn't he? He'd have to remember. He had to.
It wasn't him. It hadn't been him. It was a dybbuk. A monster made him do all those cruel things and saying all those awful words.
Dean was sure Bobby had explained everything to Sam. And Sam was a smart kid, he'd understand. He'd know.
"You should keep yer distance from Sam for a little while."
Bobby's words cut into Dean's thoughts as though the older hunter had been reading his mind.
"Why?" Dean asked, "Shouldn't I be with Sam? Showing him I'm not going to hurt him?"
Bobby shook his head.
"I think seeing you right now would be too much for him."
Dean frowned. He wanted to see his baby brother. He wanted to apologize, let Sam know he hadn't meant any of it.
"Remember Dean," Bobby said, "Baby steps."
The eighteen year old opened his mouth to argue but the look in Bobby's eyes told him it would be a bad idea.
"Okay," he sighed, "Baby steps."
"I know it ain't what you want to hear," Bobby continued, "But we have to think of what's best for Sam, not you."
Dean scowled but he knew the older man was right. He had been the one to fuck up. He had gotten himself into this mess. Now he had to suck it up and pay the price.
SPN
Sam looked up nervously when Bobby stepped into the room.
The boy had fallen asleep quickly but his rest had been anything but peaceful. He tossed and turned, trying to escape the nightmares that plagued him.
"Hey there, Son," Bobby said, "How're you feeling?"
Sam shrugged and sat up, his back against the bed's headboard.
"I brought you something to eat," Bobby held out a plate with a sandwich and potato chips on it.
"Th-Thanks," Sam muttered and took the plate, balancing it on his lap.
"I-Is D-Dean here?" Sam asked, looking up at the old hunter.
"Yeah," Bobby told him, "He is. He's downstairs though."
Sam nodded.
"He's n-not coming up here, is he?" Sam asked nervously.
Dean must hate him for taking him away from college. Sam hadn't meant to though, he didn't know what to do, didn't know whom else to turn to.
"No," Bobby assured him, "He'll stay downstairs until I say it's alright."
Sam nodded and picked up one half of the sandwich- it was peanut butter and banana- and took a tentative bite.
"I'll bring your bag up so you can change into some clean clothes, alright?" Bobby said and Sam nodded.
He watched the veteran hunter leave the room, closing the door behind him.
Sam took another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he thought.
He trusted Bobby. The old hunter had never done anything to hurt him in all the years Sam had known him. But still, something inside Sam was telling him to be cautious.
Dean was his own brother and yet he'd hurt him-
No! It hadn't been Dean! It was a dybbuk using Dean. Trying to make Sam believe it was his brother.
Sam raised a hand and rubbed at a spot above his eyebrow. He was starting to get a headache.
The door opened- causing Sam to jump a little- and Bobby stepped inside, holding the straps of the teen's green duffel bag.
"Just put your clothes in the hamper in the corner so I can wash 'em later."
Sam nodded even though he didn't think Bobby would be able to get the stains out. The hunter nodded and left the room once more.
The fourteen-year old stood and peeled off his bloody t-shirt. His jeans hadn't fared much better; both knees were tore and the legs were coated in mud up to the shins. Grass stains covered the rest of the denim in the front.
Sam dumped his ruined garments into the wicker hamper that stood in the corner and rummaged through his duffel for some clean clothes.
The door once more opened- slamming against the wall- and Sam staggered back in fear.
"Sam!"
Dean stood in the doorway, looking almost frantic.
Sam stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall.
"No!" he cried and raised his hands to protect his head.
"Something's wrong with Bobby!"
Sam remained as he was, trembling slightly, but nothing happened. Dean didn't hit him, didn't call him names and cautiously, Sam peered up at him.
"I've gotta call the hospital."
"B-Bobby?" Sam asked, dazed.
Dean nodded, "C'mon."
The eighteen-year old held his hand out and nervously Sam took it.
"Was he okay when he came up here with your bag?" Dean asked quickly, clearly on the verge of panic.
Sam nodded silently. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with Bobby.
They hurried down the stiars and Sam saw Bobby lying in the kitchen doorway. Breaking away from his brother, Sam rushed to the older man's side.
"Bobby!" Sam cried, dropping to his knees at the hunter's side.
The grizzled hunter's face was pale- almost grey- and his breathing was labored. His eyes were closed but when Sam had called his name, the veteran hunter opened them as much as he could.
"Bobby! Don't die!"
Sam barely noticed as Dean grabbed the phone from Bobby's desk in the living room and called the local hospital.
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and he reached out to touch Bobby's hand- the skin cool and clammy beneath his fingers.
"Sam," Dean's voice caused the boy to glance up at his sibling. Dean was now crouched beside them.
"I'll sit with him," the eighteen-year old said, "You'd better get some clothes on."
Sam opened his mouth and looked down. He was only wearing his boxer shorts- Dean had come into the bedroom so suddenly after Bobby had left that he hadn't had a chance to change his clothes.
Sam nodded, noticing Dean was frowning at the bruises that were now visible, and turned and ran up the staircase.
Sam didn't even bother looking at the clothes he picked. He pulled on a pair of khaki pants and a dark blue t-shirt quickly before barreling down the staircase again.
Bobby was still lying on the floor- unmoving- and Dean was sitting beside him, one man on the older man's chest in comfort.
Tears leaked down Sam's face as he approached.
Bobby couldn't die! Not now! Sam needed him!
The teen crouched on the older hunter's other side and put his hand on Bobby's.
In the distance, the blaring of ambulance sirens began wailing, coming closer and closer to the Salvage Yard.
SPN
Dean was the one to show the paramedics inside, standing out of the way as they brought a stretcher with them.
"Sam, come here," Dean called to his brother and reluctantly the younger teen left Bobby's side but did not go near him.
"Are you family?" a male paramedic asked Dean and he nodded, watching as the others began to assess Bobby.
"Yeah, we're his nephews," Dean replied.
"What happened?" the paramedic asked.
Dean shrugged, "I don't really know. One minute he was asking if I wanted some coffee and the next thing I know he's lying on the floor."
The paramedic nodded. Dean saw Sam starting at the others wide-eyed as they moved Bobby onto the stretcher.
"Is there any history of heart problems or stroke in the family?"
Dean shook his head, "I… I don't really know… I'm sorry. Is he going to be okay?"
The man gave Dean a sympathetic look, "We're doing all we can for him right now but we'll know more once a doctor has a chance to look at him."
With that unsatisfactory answer the paramedic turned and began following his colleagues out the door as they pushed the stretcher ahead of them.
Dean walked over to Sam and took hold of his arm. Sam, apparently in shock, followed him.
Dean fished the Impala's key from his pocket and unlocked the driver's side door and got into the vehicle before reaching over and unlocking the passenger's door.
Sam climbed into the car and Dean started the engine, following the ambulance as it pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.
"Sam?" Dean said anxiously.
His brother looked up at him.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," Dean apologized, "I didn't mean to. It's just… I was scared that Bobby-"
"Okay Dean," Sam muttered.
The brothers didn't say another word as they headed towards the hospital.
W
Dean paced the floor in front of the plastic chair Sam sat in. They had been in the waiting room for hours now with no word on Bobby's condition.
Sam remained silent, staring up at the television mounted to the ceiling in the corner and completely ignoring everything around him.
Dean kind of wished he could just zone out like his brother but his worry for Bobby prevented him from doing so. Oh, he was certain Sam was just as anxious as he was but the younger man simply reacted differently to it.
Dean was kind of amazed that Sam wasn't cowering away from him. He'd been worried that his brother would be terrified of him but he guessed that he must have forgotten his fear in the panic over Bobby.
Dean just hoped that when Sam remembered he was supposed to be afraid of him, that it didn't happen while they were at the hospital.
Maybe this was what they needed; an event to allow both of them to forget what had happened with the dybbuk and be brothers again.
SPN
If you're quiet he won't notice you, Sam thought as he watched Dean walking back and forth across the floor.
Being quiet seemed to work, with Dean at least. His brother barely even looked at him, glancing instead at the Nurse's station, Information desk, the double doors the paramedics had taken Bobby through, everywhere except at Sam.
He hoped Bobby was going to be okay. He didn't know what he'd do if he was left alone with Dean.
Sam froze when his brother turned to him and crouched down, one hand on the arm of his chair.
"Are you hungry, Sammy? Do you want anything from the cafeteria?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head slightly, not daring to speak.
His brother sighed, "I'm going to get some coffee. I'll be right back, okay?"
Sam watched as Dean stood and walked away from him, heading down a long hallway.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment and pushed his bangs away from his face.
Why would Dean hurt me? He thought. Dean's my big brother.
But Dad was Dad. He still hurt you.
But Bobby said it was a spirit. A dybbuk.
Sam frowned. He recalled the time before Dean had gone to Stanford. Sure, John was hard on him- harder than he was with Dean- but he never actually hurt him until the night Dean left for school. The hunt with the shifter hadn't gone well but that was hardly John's fault. Besides, his Dad had saved him from the monster.
Sam shook his head. The dybbuk was gone. Bobby had taken care of it. Dean wasn't going to hurt him.
The teen reached up and gingerly touched his chin, cringing a little in pain.
Had it been after Dean left? Sam didn't know which had just been his Dad and what was the dybbuk's influence.
Sam guessed it didn't matter. Dad was gone and there was no way to know for certain.
Sam felt sadness well up in his chest. He hadn't wanted to do what he'd done. He had been scared and hurt. He wished his Dad was here with him now, to tell him that Bobby was going to be fine because Dean wasn't saying much of anything.
"Sammy? Hey, are you okay?"
The boy looked up as Dean came towards him, a look of concern on his face.
Sam nodded and wiped his face.
Dean sat down hesitantly beside him. He carefully reached out and laid an arm across Sam's shoulders. The warm weight of Dean's arm across Sam's back was comforting and the fourteen-year old didn't move away.
"I… I miss Dad," Sam whispered quietly.
Dean looked surprised at the confession but then he nodded, tilting his head closer to Sam's.
"Me too, Sammy."
SPN
"Family of Robert Singer?"
Dean stood up instantly at the sound of Bobby's name being called and made his way over towards the female doctor holding a clipboard.
"Here," he said and the woman glanced at him somewhat suspiciously.
"We're his nephews," Dean told her and the doctor nodded, seeming placated.
Sam had followed Dean and stood a little off to the side, beside him but not so close as he once would have been.
"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asked.
The doctor- Dr. Carter- nodded.
"He's had a mild heart attack," she said, "But he seems to be recovering nicely."
A great weight was lifted from Dean's shoulders.
"Thank God," he said and glanced at Sam, smiling.
"I want to keep him for at least two more days," Dr. Carter said, "To make sure your uncle is fully recovered. In the meantime, I'd like to discuss with him some lifestyle changes he should make to prevent this for happening again."
The woman looked up from the clipboard and peered closely at Dean.
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen, Ma'am," he answered.
Dr. Carter replied, "Are you his only family?"
Dean nodded, "Yes Ma'am."
"Hm, well, you're old enough," she commented, "I'll tell you everything I'm going to tell Mr. Singer about how to improve his health so that you can keep an eye on him."
Oh, Bobby was sure to love that, Dean thought and smirked.
"Can we see him now?" Sam asked, his small voice speaking from beside Dean.
"He's resting now-" Dr. Carter began but Sam stared up at her with his 'puppy eyes'.
"Please," he begged, "We thought he was going to die."
The doctor's heart seemed to melt and she smiled at Sam, "Of course. Just try not to wake him up, alright?"
"We won't," Sam promised and the brothers followed the doctor down the hall.
"Good job, Sammy," Dean muttered and Sam looked up at him, smiling ever so slightly.
Dr. Carter held the door open for the Winchesters and they stepped quietly into Bobby's room.
The grizzled hunter looked completely different without his usual baseball cap and grimy vest. He was lying on the hospital bed with the crisp light blue sheets pulled up to his chest. His head was bare, revealing thinning reddish hair peppered with grey. Bobby's eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell evenly. A laminated bracelet encircled one wrist while the back of one hand had an IV needle in it. A monitor kept track of his heartbeats, the green line spiking up and down up and down.
Dean let Sam take the chair and the younger man climbed onto the seat, sitting on his knees and leaned over their unconscious friend.
"Can I speak to you?" Dr. Carter asked Dean, "We'll just be out in the hallway."
Dean hesitated but decided it would be okay to leave Sam alone with Bobby.
"Sure," he said and left the room.
Sam didn't even look up at him as the door closed.
SPN
"It wasn't really Dean," Sam whispered to Bobby, "Right? It was a dybbuk."
The veteran hunter didn't answer.
"Dean's not going to hurt me, is he?" Sam asked but again he received no reply.
"I wish you'd wake up," Sam muttered sadly, "I don't know what to think. You'd help me."
He sighed and sat back against the chair, rubbing his eyes.
Exhaustion quickly crept up on the teen and within seconds he was fast asleep, chin resting against his chest.
W
Sam startled awake when the door slammed open and Dean stormed into the room.
"You," Dean snarled, eyes locked on his brother.
"Dean," Sam squeaked and slid off the chair.
"This is your fault," Dean ground out, hands clenched into fists.
"Wh-What is?" Sam asked, eyes darting around the room.
Bobby was gone. The hospital bed stood empty, the screen of the monitor was blank and black.
"Bobby's dead," Dean spat, "And it's your fault."
"No!" Sam cried, "No, he can't be!"
Dean lunged forward and grabbed Sam's arm.
"You're hurting me!" the teen cried and tried to twist away from the threat.
"You kill everyone around you!" Dean ground out, "You're cured, you're evil!"
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes, "I d-didn't do anything! Please! Let me go!"
"First it was Mom, and then Dad and now Bobby."
Dean tugged Sam forward roughly, making the boy cry out in pain.
"Pl-Please, Dean, don't h-hurt me!" Sam begged.
Where was everyone? Where was the doctor? The nurses?
"Hel-" Sam tried to call out but Dean placed a large palm over his mouth, muffling any sound.
Sam's eyes widened with fear as Dean drew him close.
"I'm going to do what should have been done a long, long time ago," Dean told him and released his mouth to bring something from the pocket of his jacket- a scalpel.
"Pl-Please D-Dean… Pl-Please don't…" Sam whimpered, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Sam closed his eyes as the blade flashed down and waited for the pain…
W
"Sam! Sammy!"
Dean's voice was hissing in his ear and he could feel his brother's hands holding his arms in a vice-like grip.
"Wake up!"
Sam tried to pull away from his brother but couldn't, his back pressed into the chair instead.
"You're okay! It was a nightmare!"
Sam opened his eyes and saw Dean's frightened features only inches from his face.
"Ah-" Sam began but Dean slapped a hand over his mouth.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dean muttered, "You've gotta be quiet."
Sam struggled but Dean was too strong.
"It's alright Sam,' Dean continued, "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."
The fourteen-year old peered into his brother's face and after a long minute, relaxed.
Dean took his hand away and released his grip on Sam's arm.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I… I don't k-know," Sam muttered.
"You were having a bad dream," Dean told him.
Sam's eyes traveled to the bed and he sagged with relief. Bobby was still lying in it. He wasn't gone. He wasn't dead.
"Is he going to be okay?" Sam asked his brother.
Dean nodded, "Yeah, yeah of course. Is that what you were worried about?"
Sam didn't respond. He hoped it was just a nightmare and not some sort of vision of the future.
Standing up, Sam placed his hands on the bed's mattress and heaved himself up, climbing onto the bed beside Bobby.
"Sam-" Dean began but didn't say anymore.
The boy crawled forward until he was right beside the old hunter before lying down. He reached out and pulled Bobby's arm- the one without the IV line- and draped it over him.
"Sam," Dean said again, his tone sad.
The teen didn't reply. He closed his eyes.
Bobby would protect him. Bobby could protect him from anything and anyone.
Author's Note:
Chapter title comes from a Megadeth song of the same name.
Thanks to BruisedBloodyBroken, sarah, Souldarkalone, L.A.H.H, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, Ginnylove9990, kasey, ncsupnatfan, mandancie, and SamDeanLover28 for reviewing.
Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited.
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