Outside Looking In, pt 2
Sam blinded by a hunt, the Winchesters look for solutions.
Bobby scowled at the sight of the Impala. John hadn't even called beforehand. If Bobby didn't want to set a bad example for the young'uns, he'd shoot the man full of rock salt.
He waited, arms crossed over his chest, as the car pulled to a stop. Bobby set his face deliberately in a scowl—it was too easy to smile at John's boys—before waiting for Dean and Sam to clamber out as usual and run up to him. He didn't want a hug, or in Dean's case, a handshake. That was just what they did. Bobby did not have a soft spot for those two.
The boys didn't climb out of the Impala, though, and Bobby's scowl became real. If those two were somewhere else, then Bobby didn't want to see the senior Winchester at all.
John pushed out of the car, and Bobby opened his mouth to tell him to get lost, when the backdoor opened. Oh. Maybe they had just been asleep.
"You got him, Dean?"
"He can hear, Dad." Dean's voice was unusually sharp, especially considering he was addressing his father, there.
"Hey Bobby." John had turned to him, and Bobby grunted and nodded.
Then he saw Sam. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but then Dean was guiding him around the car door.
Bobby realized his mouth was open and shut it quickly before Dean could see. Kid could get all fired up if he thought anyone was making fun of Sam, aside from himself.
"John?" he asked weakly.
"You hear about those disappearances in Idaho?" John returned. "Thought it was a witch. Turned out it was this." He handed over a rough sketch.
"And Sam . . ."
"Got caught. Thing took his eyesight." John wasn't one for long speeches. "Dean, get him to bed."
"It's four in the afternoon, he doesn't need to go to bed." Dean nearly snarled. John raised an eyebrow, and Dean added in a sullen, "sir."
"Do as I say," John commanded.
Bobby watched in amazement as the boys made their way into his house, Sam stumbling slightly on the porch stairs. Not one month ago, he had met up with John for a hunt, and Sam had bucked every time John insinuated any kind of command, no matter how reasonable. Now, the fire was just drained away. Or maybe siphoned into Dean.
"So Sam's blind?" Bobby checked. Just in case he had temporarily gone insane.
John sighed heavily. "Yeah. And I'm about as lost as I can be." He turned his intense eyes onto Bobby. "Can you research this? If there's any way to reverse it, I . . ."
"Yeah, sure."
"How would you feel about me leaving them here?" John suddenly said, and Bobby felt a flare of anger. A man shouldn't abandon his kids at a time like this.
"Why?" he asked.
"I need to do something, to make this better. There are libraries. I need to research as well."
"Or you could stay here and support your boys," Bobby said flatly.
Anger spasmed across John's face before disappearing. "Sam has Dean. They're making do."
That wasn't Bobby's point, but he felt the uselessness of his position. "Go on. I'll take care of them."
"Dinner," Bobby yelled. No need to act weird because Sam was . . . Sam was blind.
Normally, that call resulted in thumping and wrestling as the boys would try to beat each other to the table.
Now, Dean had Sam on his back, piggy-backing down the stairs.
"You sure that's safe, Dean?" Bobby drawled.
Sam flushed and wriggled off Dean's back. Thankfully, they were already at the base.
"Sam, don't worry about it."
"I'm fine." Sam insisted, the first words Bobby had heard him speak since they had arrived.
"Uh huh." Dean ignored Sam's attempt to reach out to the wall and put a hand on his back, pressing him forward. Bobby shook himself and moved back to the kitchen.
"Sit here." Dean pressed Sam down into a chair.
"What are we eating?" Sam asked softly.
"Um . . ." Dean looked at the food and then up at Bobby, something like horror in his face. Bobby looked at the spaghetti and then cringed. He mouthed "sorry" to Dean and moved to the fridge to hunt down something that Sam could eat.
"Looks like Bobby wasn't ready for us."
Sam frowned. "What is it?"
"Spaghetti. No worries, I'm sure we can get you a sandwich or something." Dean turned anguished eyes on Bobby, who scrambled through his cupboards.
"It's okay, I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled. He got up from his chair, making his way out of the room with difficulty, tripping over the threshold of the kitchen and nearly falling.
"Sammy, c'mon, you have to eat. You barely ate anything at lunch," Dean pleaded.
"I'm not hungry," Sam repeated, shoving past Dean. Bobby got out the peanut butter and jelly anyway, quickly slapping together a sandwich. Dean saw it, and took it with a grateful look.
"Sam, it's good ol' PB & J, you're not gonna turn down that, are you?"
"No, Dean." Sam moved into the living room, and Bobby realized with a wince just how many dangers his very house posed to Sam. The scattered papers, old beer bottles on the rickety end tables, knife lying unsheathed on his desk . . .
"Sam, you need to eat."
"I said no, Dean!" Sam burst out, the rage and anguish mixed together so Bobby couldn't tell them apart.
He expected Dean to back off, but instead Dean took a step closer, laying his hand softly on Sam's shoulder.
"Please, Sammy. For me."
It was the magic phrase. There was a pause, and then Sam took the sandwich, and ate it in small, tired bites.
"You boys should get some rest," Bobby said gruffly.
"Let's go upstairs, okay?" Dean helped Sam to his feet, only to be stopped by Sam's hand against his chest.
"You still need to eat, Dean. I'll wait out here."
Dean was obviously hovering with indecision, and Bobby decided for him.
"Go on Dean, I'll help Sam upstairs."
Dean ruffled Sam's hair and went back into the kitchen.
"C'mon, then." Bobby took a hint from Dean's behavior and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, guiding him forward. He deliberately avoided looking at the kid's eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"What for? I should be the one sorry for tryin' to make you eat spaghetti."
Sam shook his head, his hair obscuring his disturbing eyes.
"You need a shower, or . . ."
"Uh, sure. I can manage."
Bobby dropped Sam off at the bathroom, and refused to acknowledge his relief at leaving Sam there.
"He okay?"
Dean must've scarfed down his dinner. "Yeah," Bobby grunted. Dean immediately made to move past Bobby, but Bobby held up a hand. "Dean, hang on."
"What?"
There were too many questions, but Bobby asked the first that came into his mind. "Are you okay?"
Dean laughed incredulously. "Me? I'm not the one who's friggin' blind, Bobby."
"This is a big . . . a big change. I just want to make sure you don't burn out."
Dean seemed to reevaluate Bobby. "Sam's the most important right now," he said bluntly.
Bobby felt a rush of embarrassment as Dean went past to Sam's room. He had always preferred Dean, preferred his loud personality, his grins, his hunter prowess. And the selfish thought that had first crossed his brain, when John told him what happened, was that at least Dean hadn't been blinded.
Bobby needed a drink.
By the time he was ready for bed himself, Bobby allowed himself to wander upstairs, just to check on them.
To his surprise, or maybe not, they were sharing the same bed, Sam curled up in Dean's arms.
Bobby decided then that he would do what he could to help them. Both of them. And if John decided that he would leave his boys behind, well, Bobby had room.
A/N: Not sure I like my Bobby voice. I need more with with him. Oh well.
My earlier decision to do NaNoWriMo has been recanted. School is kicking my butt. Anyway, at least I can still write this ;)