Summary: A few thoughts of Bobby and Sam before they find Dean.
Crowley sighed as he found Bobby sleeping with his headon his desk for the third time this week and it was only Wednesday.
"Bobby." Crowley said softly, shaking the man gently.
"Hmm?" Bobby returned as he blinked sleepily.
"Let's go to bed, luv." Crowley suggested as he helped the man up and led him to the bedroom.
"What time is it?" Bobby mumbled as Crowley settled him into the bed.
"Almost two in the morning." Crowley answered.
"Oh." Bobby squinted at his lover, "When did you get back?"
"Just an hour ago, no big deal." Crowley said.
"We were supposed to have dinner." Bobby murmured as Crowley crawled into the bed with him.
"Yeah, tell Winchester Senior that." Crowley muttered darkly.
Bobby chuckled, "Sounds about right, he does get too involved with his hunts. What was he having you do?"
"Chasing more leads on Dean." Crowley said quietly.
"Did you find anything?" Bobby asked, a small flame of hope still in his voice, even after Dean had vanished eight years ago.
"No, I'm sorry."
"I know." Bobby whispered, "Do you think Dean's happy wherever he is?"
Crowley almost missed the unspoken question, 'Do you think he's even alive?'
"I think he's better off where he is, he doesn't deserve John's crap."
"I hope he's safe." Bobby whispered as he dosed off.
"Me too." Crowley said, he may never have met Dean Winchester but given the way Bobby talked about him and kept his ear to the ground for any type of news regarding the boy he hoped there was still a chance that he would meet him in the future but if that never happened he wished the boy the best if only because it would devistate Bobby to have it otherwise.
The day his father showed up at Stanford was one of the worst days of Sam's life. Not only did his father
drag him back into a life that he had desparatly tried to leave behind, but the woman he had loved had burned just like his mother. Then as if that wasn't enough he found out that his brother was missing and it was his fault.
Sam remembered his first week at Stanford, how many times Dean had tried to call him before he had disconnected that phone and gotten a new one, one Dean and his father didn't have the number to. He should have picked up the phone. They should have picked up the phone and now Dean was gone, maybe even dead. They didn't even know if he was okay.
How could he have just abandoned his brother, how could his father have abandoned his son?
"Hello, Sam." Castiel said as he appeared.
"What have I told you about using the door?" John growled as he put his gun away.
Castiel tilted his head, "To use it."
Sam shook his head as John began to lecture the Angel on social norms for the millionth time.