Chapter 6 - It's A Brand New Day
The Impala grumbled as Dean finally turned off the road and onto a familiar rocky driveway. "Almost there, baby," he mumbled, patting the dash with one hand.
There was a snort from the passenger seat, and Dean noticed Sam smirking out of the corner of his eye. He rolled his eyes but didn't respond. It had been a long time since he had managed to get any sort of smile out of Sam, so if it was going to be at his expense, so be it.
The head wound from a few weeks ago was healing up nicely, if Dean said so himself, and Sam was lucky enough that his hair hid the scar. The same couldn't be said for Dean, who was sporting a noticeable lump on the back of his head from their last run-in with a group of demons two days ago.
It was another slam-dunk monster hunt that had gone completely sideways at the last minute with no warning. Really, Dean mused, they should probably have come to expect a last-minute FUBAR by now, it happened often enough. This was different, though, even for them.
They had been chasing what looked like either a rugaru or a werewolf; a man-turned-beast who was roaming the streets after dark and leaving mutilated bodies in its wake. They had managed to identify the monster, a man in his thirties with eyes that flashed blue and a demeanour that oozed malice. Dean had just about cornered him after a long night of stalking when suddenly the monster had smirked at him, and seconds later he and Sam were surrounded by five black-eyed demons intent on dragging their corpses to their new queen.
Thank god Castiel had been in town, and had managed to find his mojo again. Dean and Sam had been entirely unprepared to take on five demons, and they were definitely on the losing end of the fight when he had arrived.
The entire debacle had raised more questions than answers, though. Apparently Abaddon was gaining power, and Dean could no longer ignore the rumours of her new power source. Which was how they found themselves here once again, Bobby's familiar driveway disappearing under the Impala's tyres as the new house gradually came into view.
"Bobby's done well with the house," Sam commented, and Dean couldn't hold back an impressed noise of agreement. Bobby hadn't rebuilt exactly the same as before, but the new house had the same feel of warmth and family. The exterior was now brick, but he had retained the old comfortable front deck, which housed a few well-worn chairs and a view of the front yard and beyond.
The Impala came to a halt, and Dean killed the engine before stepping into yard and grabbing his bag from the back seat. Bobby's truck was parked next to him but the house remained silent, and Dean frowned as he shrugged off a sense of foreboding. It wasn't unusual for Bobby to take his time coming to the front door, but he still double-checked the comfortable weight of his gun in his jeans and knife at his ankle before approaching the entrance and knocking loudly.
There was no response, not even the sound of movement from within, and Dean turned to find Sam hovering behind him, brow creased in concern. Their eyes met, and Dean watched as Sam set his jaw.
As one, they drew their weapons, shouldered their bags, and stepped warily off the porch. Dean jerked his head at Sam, who nodded in reply and turned away to circle the house from the left. Dean turned right, and barely made it two steps before a gunshot cracked through the air.
Dean's heart jumped into his throat, and he dropped his bag on the ground carelessly as he broke into a sprint. Eyes wide, he circled the house and scanned the backyard. No one was visible. Resisting the urge to call out, Dean turned to see Sam approaching from the other side of the house, gun outstretched, and he caught Dean's eye with a shake of the head.
Another loud crack rang out, and Dean focussed on pinpointing the sound. It was further into the yard, and he made sure to keep Sam in his peripheral vision as he started creeping toward it.
He was approaching the far right corner when he finally heard voices floating toward him, and Dean breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he recognised Bobby. He didn't sound hurt - in fact, Dean realised with a start, he sounded almost cheerful. Sam seemed to have noticed the same thing, judging by the quizzical expression on his face, and Dean felt his tense muscles relax.
"Next time," he heard Bobby say, "brace your feet properly. You know what to expect now in terms of kick-back, so it's a matter of preparing yourself to match that force. Otherwise you'll just end up back on your ass again."
Shooting lessons? Well, that was new. Dean finally spotted them behind one last row of cars, and paused to study them before he revealed himself.
Bobby's face was alight with amusement, something that Dean hadn't realised he'd missed until he saw it before him. Standing next to him was a teenager, all pale skin and long limbs. The kid was covered in dirt, biting his lip in concentration as he aimed his weapon at a line of tin cans twenty yards away. His stance was almost perfect, Dean noticed, impressive for someone who was clearly a beginner. The kid squeezed the trigger and a third shot rang out. One of the cans flew off the table, the boy's face glowed in excitement as he grinned.
"I got one!" He crowed, carefully flicking the safety on before practically bouncing with glee. "And I stayed on my feet this time!"
"We'll make a marksman of you yet, kid," Bobby chuckled, before swinging around to look Dean in the eye. "You gonna stand there forever, boys?"
Sam and Dean exchanged surprised glances before emerging from where they had been crouched, Dean slipping his gun back into his jeans. "Hiya Bobby," he greeted. "Could have warned us to expect gunshots when we arrived, you know."
"Could have warned me you were coming," Bobby responded with a roll of his eyes. The kid behind him was shifting his weight nervously, and Dean took pity on him.
Stepping past Bobby, Dean stretched out a hand to the boy. "Hi, I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam," he introduced, and was surprised when the kid gripped his hand firmly.
"Dave," the boy responded. "Good to meet you."
"Same." Pleasantries out of the way, Dean turned back to Bobby. "Sorry for barging in, but we've got a bit of a problem."
Bobby dismissed his concerns with a wave. "Don't worry about it, you know you're always welcome here. Come on, I'll get started on dinner and you can put your stuff away."
"I should head off," Dave spoke up from behind, handing the gun back to Bobby.
To Dean's surprise, Bobby shook his head. "You're not leaving here without a decent meal, so don't even try. You're not intruding, Dave, don't worry."
Well, clearly they had been gone too long. Sam's surprised expression said it all as they made their way back to where they had dropped their bags. Bobby definitely had some explaining to do.
Stomach full and limbs warm, Dave settled back into his seat and tried to focus on the words before him. He was stuck at Bobby's until the man was ready to drive him home, which would surely be coming sooner rather than later. He thought that he must have known how to drive in his last life since it had felt so natural when Bobby let him take the wheel in the yard, but it turned out that Jody, the town Sheriff who was a surprisingly good friend of Bobby's, had put her foot down at letting an unlicensed amnesiac teenager drive in her town.
It was about time, really, Dave mused, given that she seemed to look the other way when it came to Bobby more often than not. He had noticed the number of guns that Bobby had lying around the place the first time he had come around for dinner, and had spent a good portion of that night Googling with fervour. As he'd suspected, some of those guns were distinctly less-than-legal, and yet Jody didn't seem to mind.
What was more concerning, really, was the huge numbers of suspiciously occult objects Dave had found. He had noticed the symbols scratched into the walls halfway through his second dinner, and once he noticed one thing he had noticed everything. The ornamental bowl by the fireplace, the heavy books stacked neatly by the door, the cupboards full of what he really hoped weren't animal parts, but he suspected probably were. He had freaked out for a good thirty minutes before deciding that hey, if he could lose his memory like a storyline in a bad soap opera, then who knows, maybe Bobby knew something that the rest of the world didn't. Or maybe he was just a crazy old coot; either way, he was a rare kind face and Dave wasn't going to be quick to throw that kindness away.
The newcomers were interesting, though. Sam and Dean clearly knew Bobby well, and had spent most of the dinner eyeing Dave curiously and prying into his and Bobby's friendship. There was a memorable moment where Dean had started interrogating Dave on his past, until Dave turned the tables and started asking Dean questions about his own life, which shut him up fairly quickly. Judging by Bobby's poorly-masked smile and Sam's incredulous expression, that was not an easy thing to do, and Dave couldn't help but feel somewhat proud of himself.
He could hear them now, and he looked intently down at his book in case anyone glanced his way. Sam was having a shower and Dean was helping Bobby with the dishes, clearly under the impression that the combined noise would deter any prying ears. Or maybe he had just underestimated Dave's level of curiosity, as he strained to listen and was rewarded as he started to make out their words.
"Enough about Dave, he's a good kid and I've vetted him, he's as human as they come," Bobby was saying, and Dave couldn't help himself as his head jerked up in shock. What? What had Bobby done to him? Shifting uncomfortably, Dave almost missed Dean's response.
"Okay, fine, if you're sure," Dean was saying, not sounding remotely pacified, before changing the topic. "We came here because we're worried about Abaddon. You know that she wants us dead, and there was that rumour from weeks back that she's found a way to make herself more powerful. Well, we've had a few more run-ins with demons lately, and we're starting to wonder if there's something to it."
"Well shit," Bobby responded, sounding worried. "She's got a lot of demons on her side, then, I take it?" Dave missed Dean's reply, but assumed it was in the affirmative as Bobby continued. "Then that's bad news for all of us. We need to find her before she finds us."
There was a squeak as the tap turned off, and Dave hastily looked back down at his book. "I'll drop Dave home and we can get started," he heard Bobby say.
Dave licked his lips nervously, before finally making up his mind and snapping the book closed. He stood to meet Bobby as he entered and spoke before Bobby even had a chance to open his mouth. "I want to help," he said.
"Help with what?" Bobby asked mildly. "There's plenty of work to be done around the place, but we can do that another time."
So that's how he was going to play it. Fine. Dave had spent enough time since he woke up trying to figure out what the hell people were talking about when they made references to things he didn't remember, and he was starting to get sick of it. Being kept in the dark might just be his last straw. "Cut the crap, Bobby," he bit out. "I know that all of this supernatural stuff isn't just an interest, and I heard that you have a demon problem on your hands. Abaddon, right?" Without pausing for a response, Dave ignored Bobby and Dean's shocked expressions and pressed on. "I know I'm new to this, but I lost my memory, Bobby, not my wits. I'm a quick learner and I'm good at research, let me help."
"No, kid, not a chance," Bobby responded firmly. "You say that your old life was bad? This is worse. You don't want any part of it, trust me. I'm not going to drag you into this world."
He had a point, Dave knew, but his curiosity was burning and he knew that he wouldn't be able to rest until he'd discovered more, so he shook his head and made his final push. "You can't stop me, though," he said. "I'm sorry, but I've heard too much to just bury my head in the sand. Demons, knights of hell...if you don't want me working with you, then I'm doing it by myself. There no way I can just hang out at the library every day scanning out Fifty Shades of Grey for middle-aged women knowing this is out there. I just can't."
Bobby glared at him for a moment, before his expression crumpled and he sighed heavily. "Damn it, kid," he muttered. "Fine. But you're strictly on research, you hear me?"
"Loud and clear," Dave answered with a half- salute, ignoring the glare he received in response. He grinned broadly. Despite the danger – he'd have to be blind to miss the wound on Dean's head, and the weapons scattered around the place – he couldn't help a swell of excitement. There was a whole new world right at his fingertips, and he was itching to discover more.
"Okay, then, if that's sorted," Dean interjected, looking between Bobby and Dave with a frown, "what the hell was this about losing your memory?"