Chapter Forty-Five
He's Back
TW/CW: blood, gore, mentions of parent abuse, implied parent abuse, canon violence, severed limbs, implied sexual assault.
Bobby's House: August 1, 2010 - Early Afternoon
Dean was getting sick and fucking tired of waking up and not knowing what the hell happened. It was a professional hazard, sure, but it was still aggravating. He went to stand up but found he couldn't move. His arms and waist were bound to someone, and it only took him a moment to realize who it was.
"Sammy?" Dean muttered. "You okay?"
"Fine," his brother said. "My head is killing me though."
"Oh, it looks like you're finally awake."
It wasn't the voice, per se, but rather the tone that made Dean shiver. He felt Sam grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. Dean already knew who got the drop on them, and it made him sick. He wasn't going to start bitching about how it wasn't possible, about how he'd seen Sam kill the fucker… None of that mattered now.
"Oh, don't be like that, Dean!" The man's laughter made Dean shut his eyes, willing the moment to end. This had to be a nightmare. It had to be.
Harsh fingers grabbed his chin, and Dean opened his eyes. The white eyes staring back at him made him swallow back the bile trying to crawl up his throat.
"Can't believe Lucifer brought your fugly ass back," Dean snarled.
The poor bastard Alistair had possessed looked eerily like Castiel. Not identical, but enough to make Dean uneasy. Clearly, Lucifer had warned the demon about Dean's relationship with Castiel, and Alistair was using it to his full advantage.
"What can I say?" Alistair asked. "Apparently, I'm invaluable."
"Get your hands off him!"
Bobby's furious yell made Dean look past Alistair to see the older man. He was tied back-to-back with Marcus. Crowley was just as stuck only a few feet away. There was an intricate sigil at Crowley's feet that looked part summoning circle-part demon trap. He was pacing furiously and slammed his fist into the barrier when Alistair turned toward Bobby.
"Don't you fucking dare," Crowley growled.
It held an animalistic edge that made Dean want to roll over and show his throat to the demon. Alistair clucked his tongue and stood up, dusting off his dress pants as he did.
"Crowley, you're such a disappointment," Alistair said mournfully. "You had so much potential."
"You better fucking kill me." Crowley's fist slammed against the barrier again, and this time, Dean could see the air shudder. "Because if you don't, I'm going to tear you apart."
"Is this about the beautiful angel in the basement?" Alistair sweetly asked. "I promise I'll leave your contract to her in place."
Sam cursed under his breath behind him. It wasn't like either of them hadn't speculated a contract existed between Crowley and Azrial. Hell, Dean had suggested it months ago during a drunk bout of bitching before he'd gotten to know them better. Having it confirmed, though… Well, it was different in some abstract way. Or maybe it was just the shock of the situation?
"Now leaving her intact," Alistair mused. "Well, I came so close to breaking her. Would be a shame to leave the job half finished, wouldn't it?"
Dean shut his eyes at the sheer happiness that rolled off Alistair. Just the thought of torturing Azrial seemed like a sweet wine to the bastard, and Dean worried he might actually drag her upstairs just to fuck with Crowley.
"Angels are secured," a man grunted as he entered the room. "They got a whole fucking bunker downstairs."
"Lovely!" Alistair clapped, glancing toward Bobby. "It's time for introductions then."
"I know who the hell you are," Bobby hissed.
"I'm sure you do," Alistair amicably agreed. "But you don't know my friend here, do you?"
"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Bobby demanded, jolting forward.
Dean heard Marcus grunt in discomfort, but he hadn't said anything. Of the five of them, the Roman seemed to be handling this the best. Go figure.
"Don't be like that," Alistair chided.
Bobby looked ready to brain the bastard, but the demon at his side snorted.
"Ain't surprising," he huffed. "Always been a piece of shit."
Dean frowned, biting back his automatic defense of Bobby. Showing any weakness or care for someone in front of Alistair was a horrible idea. The fucker would just use it to twist and break your mind.
"Fine, I'll bite." Bobby's voice had evened out to a faux calm. "Who the fuck are you, and why should I care?"
Dean frowned at the vicious grin on the man's face as he sauntered forward. The sound of floorboards creaking out of sight caught his attention. He tried to turn his head, but Sam grabbed his hand and dug his nails into the skin until Dean turned away. Whatever was happening behind them, Sam didn't want to tip Alistair off.
The sound of bone cracking drew his attention back to Bobby. Dean paled as the man spit blood onto the floor, the random demon leering down at him.
"Not so big now, are ya, boy?" the man mocked. "Only have balls when shootin' an unarmed man."
Bobby paled, taking on a slightly green tinge. He'd never seen Bobby look so...afraid. It was a pure, unfiltered fear that seemed to consume his face. The demon seemed pleased to have that effect and punched Bobby in the jaw again.
"I figured if anyone could break into this lovely house of yours, it would be your own flesh and blood," Alistair said as he took a seat at Bobby's desk. "Should have sealed the air vents better."
"Better yet, should have left this fucking dump," the demon towering over Bobby snarled. "You've got some nerve staying here after killing me."
The demon turned toward him and Sam with a vicious smile. He went to walk over, but Bobby's foot shot out, slamming into the demon's right knee and sending the bastard to the floor.
"Stay the fuck away from my kids!" Bobby roared. "I killed ya once, and I'm more than fucking happy to do it again!"
Dean was pretty sure his heart had migrated into his throat. The fear on Bobby's face had melted into righteous anger. He looked ready to attack the demon despite being tied to Marcus and weaponless. The demon struggled to his feet and spun on Bobby.
"That's all you're good for, ain't it?" the demon demanded. "Hittin' a man when his back is turned."
"I shot ya in the fucking chest while looking ya in the eyes, ya piece of shit," Bobby snarled. "You're nothing but a wife-beating alcoholic."
"And you're nothing but a wife killer, ain't that right, boy?" The question hung poisonously in the air, and Dean could see Bobby swallowing back his emotions.
Alistair laughed, breaking the tense silence. "It seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it, Robert? Your father was quite happy when I asked him to come on this mission."
"Fuck," Sam hissed softly.
Dean grunted in agreement, glancing between the demon and Bobby. He needed to think of something to say. Some way to distract the bastard from Bobby. There was no fucking way they were getting out of here alive unless Crowley or the angels managed to get free.
"Hey fucker," Dean spat. "Considering we're the crowned fucking jewels of Heaven and Hell, it's obvious who the better father is."
Bobby shot Dean a look that screamed shut up, but he didn't care. Bobby's father stiffened and turned toward Dean. The pure malice in his eyes actually shocked Dean. It wasn't like the bastard knew him, yet it was clear he absolutely hated Dean's guts.
"Think that much of yourself?" the man asked.
"Damn right I do." Dean smirked at the sound of grinding teeth.
Come on, he silently begged, lose your temper. Alistair would have to step in to make sure whatever plan they had was successful. If it was just a case of killing them, they'd already be dead after all.
"Dean's right. They called me the Boy King." Sam's bragging almost made Dean laugh. His brother hated that title, but right now, he sounded proud of it. "There were demons happy to follow me over Lilith. What have you ever accomplished?"
Dean swore he could hear the bastard's jaw crack with the force he was grinding his teeth. Bobby looked mortified, and he swore to apologize to the man if they lived through this. That and hug him until he couldn't breathe and sing his praises.
"We should be happy you were able to get it up," Dean said. "I mean, we almost didn't have a dad!"
Sam laughed, clearly not able to help himself. In his defense, Dean was chuckling while he said it.
He almost doubled over as sharp pain shot through his stomach. He looked down, blinking owlishly at a knife sticking out of his gut. He even recognized it. It was one of Bobby's hunting knives, and he knew for a fact the damn thing was serrated. His only saving grace was that this fucker was a shitty throw. From this angle, it didn't look like he hit anything substantial.
"Enough!" Alistair snapped. "I never said you could kill the Winchesters."
"He ain't dead," the demon growled. "Lil shit won't even bleed out if that blade stays put."
Dean ignored the arguing demons and glanced at Bobby. He'd lost what little blood had been stubbornly circulating to his face, and his eyes were wide. Dean smiled weakly in an attempt to ease the man's worry. It didn't hurt too much. He'd be fine once Castiel got to them. Still, just in case...just in case he didn't make it out, he needed Bobby to know he was nothing like that monster arguing with Alistair.
"This ain't how I wanted to tell you this, old man." Dean took a deep breath at a jolt of pain, doing his best to breathe through it. Thankfully, he was used to that.
"Tell me what?" Bobby asked gruffly. "Shouldn't you be saving your breath?"
Dean smirked. "Probably, but I've never been accused of being intelligent."
"Dean?" Sam's voice was laced with worry. He squeezed his brother's hand reassuringly.
Dean took another breath. "I love you, Dad. Sam and I, well, we really wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."
He'd lost track of the times they had to call Bobby because John had left them alone a bit too long. Lost track of the times the man slipped him money for food when they were picked up. The times they played catch or watched Saturday morning cartoons curled on the living room couch while Bobby worked. When he and Sam were here, they were kids. Not hunters, not soldiers, just...kids. Bobby loved them the way John should have. When he was younger, Dean was too blind to see that. He'd been so ready to excuse John's actions as necessary or understandable given how he ended up hunting, but it wasn't. Not really. After being forced to work with John during their tryst in the past, and after how the man had treated Castiel, it was even more apparent who truly loved them.
"How fucking touching," Bobby's father spat. "You raised two lambs for slaughter."
Dean had a front-row seat to the maelstrom of emotions Bobby was feeling. His eyes had always been telling, the man preferring to act calm until you really got under his skin.
"No, I didn't," Bobby said softly. "I raised two heroes. Not that you'd fucking understand."
Dean shut his eyes as something in his abdomen twitched and groaned in pain. Stupid emotions and stupid physical responses. He wasn't done yet, though. He turned his head to stare Alistair down, who merely raised an eyebrow.
"As for you," Dean hissed. "Kill me. Break me again if you fucking want, but ya wanna know a secret?"
"Oh, do tell Dean," Alistair said. "I'm all ears considering this is turning into a death bed confessional."
"I'm not scared of you anymore," Dean said. "That angel downstairs? Neither is she. And Crowley? Well, I'm pretty sure he's plotting ways to turn your intestines into a noose."
Alistair chuckled and leaned against Bobby's desk. "Is that so?"
"It is," Dean said. "And you better fucking kill all three of us, 'cause if you don't, we're gonna be your worst fucking nightmare."
"Does this hunter speak for you, Crowley?" Alistair asked.
Crowley seemed to consider his words before a hard look entered his eyes. "I was going to tie your small intestine and large intestine to a hellhound each and quarter you, but close enough."
Dean hated the small, demented giggle that ripped from his throat. This shit was bringing his Hell memories to the surface, and that part of him was more than happy to help Crowley make his idea a reality.
"You always were rather creative," Alistair praised. "But you won't live long enough to try it. Maybe I'll suggest it to Lucifer as an execution option for you."
"And you won't survive trying to separate...Gabriel from his sister." Dean almost slipped in his anger but thankfully caught himself.
Alistair frowned, staring at Dean strangely. "Gabriel?"
Fuck. Well, maybe he shouldn't have said anything about the angels.
Crowley slammed a wall of flames into the ward, keeping him trapped and drawing everyone's attention. Dean exhaled as Alistair turned away from him. Cold metal pressing into his palm almost made him jump. The slight bite of a knife blade made him school his features. He didn't know what the fuck was going on behind him, but clearly Crowley had seen something. Thank fuck.
"That won't work," Alistair lectured. "Lucifer happily took the time to tailor that trap to you."
Crowley snorted, crossing his arms. "Happy to know I'm living rent-free in his head."
"He wants you to suffer," Alistair said. "Perhaps I'm going soft, but I had considered killing you myself."
Dean was pretty sure he'd lost too much blood because Alistair actually sounded concerned about Crowley. Had they entered the fucking Twilight Zone? He glanced down at his stomach in thought, but there wasn't enough blood staining his shirt to cause this level of hallucinations.
"You just lectured me about not killin' the brats!"
Alistair glanced at Bobby's father and raised a finger to his lips. "Hush. The adults are talking," he whispered.
Dean winced as the other demon began choking and clawing at his throat. Alistair turned back to Crowley with an assessing look.
"I heard you bedded Lucifer's sister."
"Old news," Dean grunted. The pain was getting worse, and he hoped there was an opening soon to cut him and Sam free.
"What about it?" Crowley asked. "She's dead."
"A shame," Alistair openly admitted. "From what I heard, you both had such lovely ideas. I even heard you were able to handle her grace."
What the fuck was Alistair on about? Bobby's father was on his knees, a trickle of black goo dripping down his chin. Alistair waved his hand, and the demon fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath.
"Do not raise your voice to me again." Alistair glared down at the demon, daring him to speak. "Or it will be the last time you have a voice to raise."
"What's your point, Alistair?" Crowley demanded. "You were never interested in the politics of ruling."
"Tell me, in a Hell ruled by you, would I still have my job?"
Dean felt his jaw drop, and considering the gasp from behind him, Sam wasn't doing much better. Crowley seemed to be assessing Alistair, seemingly weighing up whether the demon wanted the truth or not.
"You're going to kill me," Crowley drawled. "What does it matter?"
Dean was struggling to focus, and the smell of blood was getting a little overwhelming. He leaned against Sam, humming in thanks as his brother adjusted to support him. He could feel Sam's heart beating through his back. Would this be the last time he felt that? He squeezed Sam's hand, trying to communicate that he was still hanging on.
"Say I didn't kill you and gave you that little angel you marked as a goodwill gift." Alistair paused, glancing around the room. "Would you use her grace, drain her holy energy, and take out Lucifer?"
Dean blinked slowly, his mind catching up with the conversation.
"You...don't...wanna serve Lucifer?" Dean slowly asked. His words were slurring, and he was pretty sure the black spots dancing in his vision weren't a good sign.
Alistair clucked his tongue. "Perhaps if we weren't at war, I wouldn't care," the torturer admitted. "But he wants an army. An army takes soldiers, and he's forcing me to break souls quickly. Where is the art in that? The finesse? Hell, where is the true punishment?"
"Dean," Sam whispered. "Stay awake, please."
He squeezed his brother's hand again, too tired to verbally respond. He was looking at Crowley, trying to gauge the demon's response. Their eyes met for a moment, and Dean exhaled softly. He didn't know how, maybe he really was losing it, but he knew Crowley wouldn't honestly agree. Hopefully, he could at least outplay Alistair.
"I had not planned for a demon of your caliber," Crowley truthfully answered. "I had assumed we would have to get creative to fill the gap left by you."
"And now?"
Crowley tilted his head. "Yes, I would find a place for you in my court."
A truthful answer, but Crowley didn't mean alive. Dean was sure of it. Alistair would be part of Crowley's court as an example of what happened to those who hurt what belonged to him. The white-eyed demon had signed his life away the day he tortured Azrial, not that he'd known who was under his blade.
Dean coughed, his vision blurring. He could taste blood in his mouth and knew he was running out of time.
"Love you, Sammy," he slurred. "Know that, right?"
"Dean, hold on." Sam sounded panicked. Dean weakly squeezed his hand again before letting it relax.
"What are you doing?" Bobby's father demanded.
Dean looked back toward Crowley to see the demon slowly step out of the trap. He wasn't sure what he missed, but clearly, Alistair had released him.
"Take the female angel and leave the others." Alistair stood up, gesturing toward the basement. "I'll be in touch, Crowley."
"And what of your little minion?" Crowley demanded. "He's nothing but a rat who will happily sell us out."
Bobby's father went to run, but it was too late. Alistair raised his hand, and the demon once more doubled over, choking on black sludge. He was barely staying standing, and Dean was happy to know the fucker was going to die.
"Problem solved," Alistair said dismissively. "I knew I could count on you."
"Proof that you're the true disappointment between us," Crowley hissed.
A low growl filled the room, but it didn't sound like a hellhound. Alistair spun around, and Dean tracked his movements sluggishly. A massive black blur launched at Bobby's father, knocking him to the ground. He caught a glimpse of shining white teeth before blood was splattered across the floor.
"Wolf?" Dean slurred, his brain not comprehending what his eyes were seeing. Where the fuck had a wolf come from?
Alistair stepped back, glancing toward Crowley. "You played me."
"Of course I did," Crowley spat. "You were bragging about breaking someone that belongs to me."
The wolf growled, its paws squelching against the bloody wooden floor as it padded toward Crowley's side. A sharp caw echoed around the room. Dean caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eyes but didn't have the energy to turn. There was a furious shout, and suddenly, the binds were cut. He wasn't sure how Sam had managed, but he felt himself being lowered to the ground as his eyes fell shut. The pain was becoming too fucking much, and he just wanted to sleep. Too bad the room was loud as shit. It sounded like a bar fight had broken out in the living room, but he really didn't give a damn.
"Hang on, Dean," Sam begged. "Cas is here. He needs to get the knife out to heal you."
"Love him," Dean slurred. "Stu-pid angel." He chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit as the pain in his abdomen increased.
A scream of agony filled the house before a massive crack followed. It sounded like someone had broken a wooden beam.
"Shove over, Cassie!"
Was that Gabriel? Jeez, why was his worried voice so high-pitched?
Dean felt a new set of cool hands against his stomach. The pain peaked, and a scream ripped from his throat. As quickly as it started, it stopped. No pain, just...numbness. Like someone had shot him full of anesthetics that somehow didn't shut down his brain. He slowly opened his eyes and was grateful that the room wasn't spinning. Bobby was at his side, eyes shining with worry. Castiel was at his head, and Dean realized his head was in the angel's lap. Sam was on his other side and smiled weakly.
"Was there a wolf?" he asked. "I swear I saw a wolf."
"About that," Sam laughed weakly.
His brother shifted, allowing a large black wolf to pad forward. Its fur was pitch black, and it smelled like its fur had been burned. There was even a bit of singing on the tips of its fur. Notably, it was holding a bloody severed arm.
"Uh..." Dean couldn't pull his eyes away from the severed limb or how proud the wolf looked to have it. "Was...that Alistair's arm?"
The wolf let out a tiny pleased growl around its prize, and Crowley snorted, gently carding his fingers through the wolf's fur.
"You made that whole speech about Azrial not being afraid," Crowley drawled. "It seems she wanted to prove you right."
Dean looked into the wolf's eyes, noticing the silver glow in them. He mustered a smile and reached out to her. Azrial leaned in, pressing her wet nose into his palm and shutting her eyes.
I heard what you said to Alistair, and I'm proud of you. He will die for what he did to us.
Dean exhaled as the gentle female voice echoed in his mind. Azrial opened her eyes after a moment, pulling her nose away from his palm. She still didn't drop her bloody prize, but Dean couldn't blame her. He'd probably be shaking the damn thing back and forth in glee if the roles were reversed.
"She's kinda stuck," Gabriel said, drawing his attention to the archangel at his feet. "Azrial hasn't shifted in almost four hundred years and was pretty sure she'd lost the ability."
"She mentioned that once," Bobby admitted. "I was surprised to see her come runnin' in here."
Marcus had moved to the other side of Azrial and began running his fingers through her singed fur. Dean could see some of the fur fall from her body and was worried she may have hurt herself.
"How did the three of you get out?" Sam asked. "I mean, they used holy oil, right?"
Castiel snorted. "Azrial got stupid when she smelled Bobby's blood."
Azrial growled, gingerly laying down to continue lazily chewing on her fleshy trophy.
"I thought it was more of an evil genius move," Gabriel said. "But she did hurt herself to pull it off."
"Don't tell me she jumped through the flames," Bobby begged.
Azrial let out a tiny whine and looked away from them. Gabriel laughed and ran a hand over his face.
"Yeah, she did. She was pretty sure her fur and contract to Crowley would protect her enough to bust through."
"She used my fire resistance?" Crowley asked, surprise dripping from his voice.
"Barely." Castiel huffed, glaring mildly at Azrial. "I was pretty sure I was about to see her go up in flames."
"She's probably gonna look a little sunburnt," Gabriel said. "Not sure I'll be able to heal it either, since it was caused by holy oil."
"Sounds like you'll be enjoying some aloe," Dean joked to Azrial. She snorted, and he could see the amusement shining in her eyes.
Bobby shot her an affectionate look. "Thankfully, I have some," he said.
"Well," Dean drawled. "I'm not dying, so ya'll don't need to stay on the floor."
Bobby turned back to him, and Dean gulped. He recognized the look in Bobby's eyes; he was about to get chewed out big time.
"Don't you ever mouth off in an attempt to protect me again, you got that boy?"
"Uh, no promises," Dean finally said. "Would hate to be called a liar cause I slipped up at some point."
Bobby took a deep breath and then leaned down to pull him into a tight hug. It took Dean a second to find the strength to hug the man back, but when he did he buried his head into his shoulder.
"Don't make me lose you," Bobby whispered against his head. "I couldn't fucking live with myself if anything happened to you or Sam."
"Right back at ya, Dad," Dean said against Bobby's shoulder. The man squeezed him a bit tighter before slowly easing him back against Castiel. He was grateful to be leaning against the angel's chest now rather than lying flat on the floor.
"I know Dean already said it," Sam softly cut in. "But I feel the same way. Thanks for loving us, Bobby. I'm damn grateful we had you as a dad."
Bobby shut his eyes, and Dean would swear until the day he died, a few tears fell down his face. Not that he'd mention it to the man. They'd had way too many chick flick moments tonight as it was.
"Will Azrial be fit to travel?" Marcus asked curiously.
"We may have to fly private," Crowley said. "We could try and pass her as a wolf-dog, but that would still have her in a kennel under the plane."
Azrial stopped chewing on the arm so she could let out a full throat growl. Dean laughed, though it quickly turned into a coughing fit. He waved Gabriel away when he saw the worried look.
"I'm fine, man. Just a bit tender, I think."
Gabriel eyed him skeptically. "If you say so."
"Do you have the means to fly private?" Bobby asked.
"Me? No." Crowley chuckled. "But I'm sure a phone call to the Valerius's will neatly solve that problem, won't it, angel?"
Azrial snuffled her nose in agreement, finally releasing the bloody arm. Well, what was left of it. She'd gnawed down to the bone, and there were teeth marks against the bone's bloody surface.
"And how exactly are we gonna get their number?" Bobby glanced at Azrial. "I doubt ya just...keep it in your phone."
Azrial tilted her head and pawed her way toward Bobby's desk. He was forced to follow her, not that Dean had any idea what she was about to attempt. He turned back to everyone else, ignoring the pair for now.
"So, if we fly private, how fast can we get the fuck out of here?" he asked. "After that shit show, I'd rather not stick around."
"No one should," Sam said firmly. "I'm not giving Garth a choice. He's coming with us."
"That's for the best," Castiel said. "Lucifer may allow Alistair to retaliate."
"Now I really don't wanna be here," Dean joked. "Pretty sure I pissed him off."
"And scared the crap out of me," Sam snapped. "Don't do that again."
"You were doing the same thing!"
"I don't care," Sam snarled. "I didn't end up with a fucking knife in my stomach."
"Yeah, well, I didn't expect him to stab me," Dean whined. "Also, how the hell did he miss that badly? I was right in front of him!"
Castiel snorted against his head, and he could feel the angel laughing silently. Sam looked like he wanted to wring Dean's neck, but it passed after a moment. He shook his head, smiling slightly.
"Just don't do it again, jerk," Sam said. "Gonna give me a heart attack."
"Ya right. Not with your health nut ways."
Sam snorted and glanced at Crowley. "Thanks, by the way. Your distraction was a huge help."
Crowley shrugged, looking away. Dean was starting to realize the demon didn't handle positive reinforcement well, but he did seem to appreciate thanks.
"Probably saved my ass too," Dean added. "Seriously, thanks. Also, that was a neat trick."
Crowley snorted and glanced at him. "You're easy to impress, squirrel."
Dean rolled his eyes, but he didn't miss the small smirk Crowley shot him. Leave it to a life-and-death situation to bring them even closer together.
"Hey, white mage." Gabriel shot him a dirty look and raised an eyebrow. "Can I get off the floor?"
"Only if you move to the couch," Gabriel said. "Don't want you moving more than you have to."
Dean nodded, grabbing Castiel and Sam's offered hands. They slowly pulled him off the floor and helped him move to the couch. He sat down and sighed in relief when the pressure on his abdomen lessened. Bobby walked back over with a slip of paper and his phone.
"Should I call, or-?" Bobby trailed off, glancing at Marcus and Crowley.
Azrial butted her nose against Bobby's leg, clearly indicating that he should call.
"We're gonna be playing charades for a while, aren't we?" Dean asked.
Gabriel snorted, eying Azrial thoughtfully. "It's hard to tell. She may just need to relax, and it will undo itself, but I don't see that happening until we're out of here."
"Then I best make this call," Bobby said firmly. "Make sure we have everything packed up here, and give Garth a call. He's coming with us."
Azrial let out a sharp bark of acknowledgment before promptly jumping on the couch and resting her head on his lap. Dean snorted but scratched her ears.
"This your way of tellin' me to stay put?"
A tiny growl was his answer, and Dean laughed. Well, at least she was keeping his lap warm. Everyone else shot off in different directions, leaving the two of them alone. Dean shut his eyes, Azrial's soft breathing lulling him into a light doze.