CHAPTER 3 - Keep your head down and keep on swinging
"Dad still wont pick up his phone." Sam grumbled as he climbed into Bobby's truck, the morning sun finally breaking through what was left of the storm clouds in the sky.
"Well how long does it usually take him to get back to you?" Bobby asked as he started his truck and put the shifter into drive. "I mean it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet."
"I don't know, it's the first time I call since I left for school." Sam admitted as he grabbed the map from the seat beside him. "If he doesn't want to talk to me that's fine, but this isn't about me it's about Dean."
There was a moment of silence and Bobby couldn't help but take a quick glance at the angry young man sitting next to him. "I don't think your Dad's trying to avoid you." He quietly started, his gaze drifting back to the road. "Maybe he's just busy."
"Too busy to answer his damn phone when his kids call?" Sam snapped, the frustration surfacing in the tone of his voice.
"He's your father, you know how he can be sometimes." Bobby quietly started, doing what he could to calm the other man. "He probably got caught up on a lead or another job. Dean did say they split up, right?" He continued, leaving out the fact that he had also been unsuccessful in reaching the elusive John Winchester.
"So RR5?" Sam said, changing the subject as he studied the map in his hands. "How far down that road is the washout?" He asked, looking for the river that had overflowed its banks.
"RR5 is the old highway that links Scythe to the west side of Sioux Falls, it cuts right through the woods and comes out on the outskirts of town." Bobby replied. "According to the police, Dean was heading east and made it more than three-quarters of the way before hitting the washout. The cops had a road block set up where RR5 turns into Main West and heads into town." He explained, the sight of the flashing police lights and yellow tape still vivid in his mind. "So we'll take the new highway out to Scythe and then take the old one back towards town."
As they approached a small bar out in the middle of nowhere and Bobby turned off the main road, Sam couldn't help but feel his heart sink like a stone. The big orange signs that marked the closed road and detour where like a punch to the stomach that stole the air from his lungs and sent shivers down his spine. This was for real and only a few hours ago, Dean had been barreling down that road with a cop on his tail and a dead end he didn't know about lurking in the darkness ahead of him. For Bobby, the winding road wasn't nearly as treacherous as it had been the dark and stormy night before. Now that the rain had stopped, the clouds had cleared and the sun was shinning bright. The drive would have been relaxing if it wasn't for the feelings of dread gnawing away at his optimism. The pair rode in silence, each contemplating their next move while mentally preparing for the worse possible scenario, that they would reach the washed out section of road and be met by the news that the Impala had been found, upside down nearly a mile from where she'd plunged in. The windows would be smashed, the interior covered in thick mud and Dean's body would either still be strapped to the car or be nowhere in sight.
"Whoa whoa whoa, pull over." Sam suddenly started, pointing to the side of the road as skid marks on the dirt shoulder caught his eyes. Eyeing what the younger man had been looking at, Bobby pulled over and slipped the shifter into park. "If it rained like hell all night, those ruts would have washed away." Sam continued, climbing out of the truck as Bobby did the same. "Maybe Dean didn't make it as far as that washout." He said as he studied the deep grooves in the mud that led into the woods.
"Well the cop did say he lost sight of him." Bobby replied, starting to wonder if Sam had just stumbled onto something he might have missed. Standing at the top of the slope looking down into the woods, Bobby couldn't help but notice the undergrowth of young trees bent and broken in front of them, just like they'd been plowed into the ground. "Some thirty years ago old Mrs. Wesson had a house out here and judging by the lack of mature trees." The veteran hunter started as he pointed down the slope. "I'm going to assume that this was the driveway." He continued, looking over and catching Sam's eyes. "Looks like someone's gone down there and I somehow doubt it was Mrs. Wesson."
"Maybe Dean missed the corner." Sam remarked, getting a better look down into the dark woods and finally taking notice of what Bobby had pointed out. The brush was thick but the lack of mature trees clearly marked the place where a road or driveway had been. "We need to get down there." He said as he started down the slope.
Though the sun was shining bright it barely penetrated the forest canopy, making the woods seem almost eerie as the pair made their way through the thick underbrush, the raindrops clinging to their clothes. Eying the deep ruts in the mud there was no doubt in Sam's mind, that it had been skidding car tires that had left those gouges in the forest floor and he just knew in his gut, that Dean had been the one who made them. He could picture it all in his head, Dean had taken the corner too fast, had slid off the road and into the woods. When he finally caught a glimpse of the Impala through the trees, his heart jumped into his throat and he paused in his steps. "There it is." He announced, pointing the car out to Bobby before picking up the pace and racing down the rest of the way. Pushing small trees aside Sam and Bobby made their way over to the Impala, both fearing the worse as they eyed the car. Sam froze in his steps as he took it all in, the front end was pushed in, the bumper taking the brunt of the impact with enough force to crack the windshield and blow one of the front tires... but it wasn't the damage caused by the crash that had caught his attention it was the bullet holes in the driver's side door. Dean had told him he'd been shot but when he passed a finger over the hole, that's when it all hit home. As he approached the driver's door, Bobby close in tow, he was relieved to see that his older brother wasn't slumped over behind the wheel but at the same time, worried not to have found him there.
"Maybe he walked away?" Bobby offered, watching as Sam pulled the driver's door open taking a moment to study the blood smeared on the inside of the door's window.
"That's a lot of blood to have just walked away." Sam remarked, those the only words he could manage as he eyed the leather seat and the dark puddles that had pooled on the floor mat. Though the keys were gone from the ignition Dean's phone was among the blood covered items that lay on the floor. Sam couldn't help but let out a sigh as he reached over to pick it up, using a shirt that lay nearby to wipe it off before tucking it into his pocket. "So he crashes the car in the storm and walks away pretty roughed up, where the hell would he go?" When Sam straightened out, Bobby simply pointed him towards an old cabin ahead of them.
"Old Mrs. Wesson's place." He said, catching the younger man's eyes for only a second. "Bank foreclosed on her but they couldn't sell off the property so the house stayed right where it was." Making their way towards the one room shack, Sam started to picture what the place looked like decades ago when an old widow lived out there alone. He could almost see the long driveway as it had been back then, the large tree the Impala hit had been on the corner and it was only one of many that had lined the road. Sam approached cautiously, his mind flashing images of what they might find once they made their way inside. Dean could be dead on the floor where he'd collapsed after bleeding out the night before for all they knew. Worse yet, he might not even be there at all. He could be off in the woods somewhere. The pair stood in the doorway for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness within before finally stepping in, the smell of wet wood, smoke and whisky thick in the musty air.
"There." Bobby whispered, pointing out a pair of muddy boots on the floor in the corner and a pair of Jean clad legs sticking out from behind a table flipped onto its side.
Sam hurried to make his way over, the sight of Dean there on the floor under his leather jacket enough to make the breath catch in the back of his throat. Though he breathed a sigh of relief as he knelt down next to his brother, he knew their ordeal was far from being over. Without giving it a second thought, Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to wake him. It was a simple gesture but it was one he should have known not to make. The moment his hand fell on the other man's shoulder, Dean spun around and delivered a punch with one hand while loading his gun with the other. Sam stumbled back as Dean backed into the corner and took aim.
"Sammy?" Dean muttered, his eyes catching those of his brother for only a moment before focusing on the veteran hunter standing only a few feet behind him. "Bobby?" He continued, disarming his gun and lowering his weapon. For a fraction of a second he'd forgotten where he was and why he was there, but the twisting motion of sitting up in a hurry caught up to him and he couldn't help but put a hand up to his wound and swear under his breath.
"Good to see you too, Dean." Sam grumbled as he picked himself up off the floor, passing a hand over his sore cheekbone as he eyed the bloodstained ace bandage on Dean's side.
"What the hell are the two of you doing here?" Dean asked as he pushed his leather coat aside and set down his gun.
"We came looking for you." Bobby replied, his tone of voice pulling Dean's eyes away from Sam. "What do you think we're doing here?" He asked, reaching over to grab the shirt that was draped over the back of a chair and tossing it to Dean. "C'mon get dressed and let's get out of here."
There was a moment of silence and when Dean's eyes once again drifted back to Sam, it hit him. "You didn't need to come looking for me." He growled, using the wall at his back to pull himself up. "I can take care of things myself." He continued as he slipped his shirt on, the lies in his words reassurance to himself that he was good enough a hunter to get by on his own. "You belong at school with all the other blue collar kids that..."
"Take care of things, huh?" Sam cut in, instantly silencing his brother. "Taking police on a high speed chase and crashing the Impala doesn't sound like you're taking care of things to me. Dad's gonna kill you when he finds out what you did to his car."
"It's not his car, it's mine." Dean replied, reaching down to grab his boots as he watched Bobby take a look around the room.
"Since when?" Sam continued without missing a beat.
"Since you ditched us for school." Dean said as he laced up his boots. "Dad's got a truck now."
"He's still going to kill you."
"That's enough." Bobby chimed in, his own father's tone of voice breaking through for only a moment. "Grab your things and let's go, there's cops scouring the river banks for you just a few miles down the road from here."
"Why are they..."
"Because that's where they think you and the car ended up, ya idgit." Bobby was quick to reply, watching as Dean finally straightened out. "The road washed out during the storm last night and when the cop that was trailing you lost sight, he assumed you went into the drink."
There was another moment of silence as Dean's gaze drifted from Bobby to Sam. Though he knew they were there to help he wasn't willing or ready to accept it. This was still his mess and he was determined to clean it up. "You guys go on, I'll stick around here and see if I can't get the car..."
"The Impala isn't going anywhere until I get a tow truck & winch out here, and I ain't doing that until those cops clear out and declare you dead."
"Bobby this is my mess." Dean hissed, catching Sam by surprise. "And I'm going to sort it out by..."
"I'm not asking if you want to join us, I'm telling you." The veteran hunter cut in, instantly regretting the tone of his voice as he watched Dean's eye hit the ground at his feet. When it dawned on him what the problem was, the angst that had filled that room was hard for him to miss. Dean had just reached a pivotal point in his life and he was now caught between the teenager John lugged around as backup and the man he could count on and trust. Bobby let out a sigh as he readjusted his hat. "Listen, I know you want fix this and prove yourself to everyone, but sometimes you're just gonna need the help. Doesn't make you any less of a man or a hunter." He calmly started, turning to make his way towards the door. "Now come on, we're going to go back to my place so I can take a look at that wound and call your dad to..."
"Please don't call him."
Bobby paused in his steps as he once again turned to face Dean. He was almost surprised not to see the fifteen year old he'd just heard standing there.
"Whatever you do please don't call dad." Dean continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not till I figure out what I'm gonna do."
Sam sucked in a breath as he waited for Bobby's reply to such a desperate plea. He could recall moments like this from his childhood and watching it play out in front of him was like having a flashback. Just like when they were kids, Dean was begging Bobby to keep some kind of secret from their father. John didn't know what kind of things he and his brother did when they were ditched at Bobby's place for a couple of days. Times they spent working in the scrap yard instead of target practice and fishing instead of doing research. He didn't know for sure if Bobby had kept all those secrets but the fact that Dean hadn't been skinned alive for some of the stunts he'd pulled made Sam think that maybe the veteran hunter really had kept to himself.
"Please don't call him." Dean repeated, swallowing hard as he put a hand up to the wound in his side. "I'll tell him myself when all else fails." He said, his voice now belonging to man rather than a desperate and fearful child. "But give me some time."
"All right fine." Bobby replied, grabbing the duffle bag from the nearby chair. "I ain't gonna tell your dad but you will. You've got two days, Dean." Watching as Bobby made his way out of the one room shack, leaving Dean frozen in place, Sam couldn't help but feel the weight on his shoulders. "Dean, I'm sorry I brought him into this but you needed help and I didn't what to do, who else to call." Sam started, as his older brother turned slightly to catch his eyes.
"You didn't have to do anything, Sam. I can take care of myself." Dean growled under his breath, grabbing his leather jacket and following the veteran hunter out the door.
Sam's hands clenched into fists as he watched his older brother walk away, for a second he could have sworn he'd just caught a glimpse of their father. Both were just as determined, bullheaded and stubborn, too proud to ask for help when anyone could see that they were in over their heads. "I just wanted to help, Dean." He called out, following his brother out into the woods.
"If you wanted to help then you should have just stayed out of it." Dean hissed without missing a stride.
"Dude what is your problem?" Sam shouted, picking up the pace to catch up. "Do you really expect me to sit back while you go out there and..."
"You left for school, Sam." Dean spat, turning to face his younger brother and doing what he could to hide just how much he'd been hurt by that move.
"What do you care what I do now that we don't work together?"
"You're still my brother." Sam was quick to reply, standing his ground as Dean took a step towards him.
"Yeah, only when the family name doesn't drag you down."
"Alright that's enough." Bobby cut in as he reached out to grab Dean by the shirt, pulling him away from Sam before words turned into punches.
"He's the one that..."
"I don't care who started it, I said that was enough." Bobby growled as he pushed Dean away. "You want to be treated like a man, then I suggest you start acting like one and let it go." There was a moment of silence and as he pointed Dean towards the crashed Impala with one hand, he turned to Sam with the other.
"I didn't do anything..." Sam started, instantly silencing as Bobby caught his eyes.
"Lay off him, I know you're trying to help but the last thing he needs right now, is to have you in his face." Bobby was quick to explain, watching as the younger man's eyes momentarily drifted over his shoulder.
"He's being a dick, because he's angry that I walked away from all of this."
"He's not angry, he's jealous." Bobby cut in, his revelation obviously catching Sam by surprise.
"What?"
"He's jealous." Bobby repeated, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at Dean, as the other man opened the Impala's trunk to gather the rest of his things. "You might not see it now and he may never let you see it but when you left for school and left him alone to fight with your dad..." Bobby trailed off as the night a distraught Dean showed up on his doorstep suddenly came to mind. Bloody and bruised from the fight, he'd taken a few punches just to prove that he was alive that night, a desperate attempt to link emotion to pain. With no words to offer that could have helped, Bobby had watched him drink the night away, offering an ear while Dean rambled about a life he both loved and loathed. "It hurt him." Bobby went on, his tone of voice dropping as the memory played like a broken record in the back of his mind. The harder they are, the harder they really do fall. "He resents you Sam, cause you had the balls to stand up to your old man, and he doesn't. What your dad thinks of him, just matters so much." Bobby paused again as he shook his head. "Dean doesn't want our help, he wants to deal with this alone because he's trying to prove that he can stand on his own. Your dad just isn't making it easy on him."
"I never thought of it that way." Sam quietly replied, his gaze once again drifting over to the older brother he'd always looked up to.
"Here, go help him pack his stuff." Bobby started as he passed Sam the small duffle bag he'd been holding. "I'll go up to the truck to get a tarp." He continued, changing the subject. Sam gave him a nod before taking the duffle from his hand and turning to make his way towards Dean. As he started walking up the hill to his truck, Bobby couldn't help but let his thoughts run wild. Though he'd never had children of his own, he'd spent enough time raising John's kids to know and learn the ups & down of fatherhood. Sam was trying to help but there was nothing he could say or do that would lift the weight on Dean's shoulders. Dean kept to himself because that's what he was supposed to do, that's what was expected of him and putting the burden on his younger brother's shoulder was just something he couldn't do. He cared for that kid more than he should have and as far as Bobby could tell, sometimes that meant keeping him at arm's length just to keep him safe. Which is what he thought he'd witnessed while they were arguing. He grabbed the green tarp from the box of his truck and started making his way back down the hill towards the Impala, still amazed that it had made it so far down the slope before coming to a stop. Though they hadn't spoken in two years, the brothers had little to say to each other as Dean packed his clothes into one duffle bag and Sam loaded a few of the weapons into another.
"You think it's an easy fix?" Dean asked, setting his duffle bag down as the older man approached.
"Shouldn't be too bad." Bobby replied as Dean took a corner of the tarp and they spread it across the front of the car to cover the cracked windshield. "You're lucky you didn't roll it." He continued, ignoring the glare he received as he placed a rock on the edge of the tarp to weight it down. "Cop I spoke to said you were just flying down that road."
There was a moment of silence as Dean reached down to grab a log, using to weight down his corner. "Rolling my car is the least of my worries right now." He replied without looking up.
"Yeah, you sure got that right."