Chapter Text
So, what do we do now?
We make our own future.
Guess we have no choice.
Bobby Singer had been fighting his own silent battle. The emergency surgery on his spine had been a damn miracle that day, even moreso that he had recovered his footing from his own self-inflicted paralysis as a result. But it did not come without troubles of its own. He didn’t regret killing that demon, never would. But now he was in pain.
All. The. Time.
He would never tell Sam and Dean. The brothers couldn’t be allowed to notice his unsteady steps, the way he tried to sit as often as possible to ease the strain. Those boys were going through their own hells and he didn’t want to add to it all. Dean, fighting the toxin, Sam caring for him and his own guilt, the weight of the apocalypse looming over it all. Bobby wanted to give them just one little joy, that he could walk, could be there the way he always had been.
To offer them protection until his weary body gave out.
One person had noticed however, Castiel. The angel had been watching the older hunter carefully through the day as both had waited the hours where the Winchester’s slept. He saw him move slowly, the grief weighing him down, the pain keeping him down in a seat for too long. Castiel knew, if he could simply heal Singer, he would have. Yet he hesitated to even try, uncertain if that was welcome given all the distrust for angels as of late. Not to mention raising the aging man’s hopes too much.
While Bobby worked on dinner, uncertain if Dean or Sam were awake yet, he finally decided to do something about his own discomfort. He chopped and ground herbs, mixing with some boiling water. A tea could numb the pain for a while, better than most over the counter medications. He’d yet to work out if it would be enough for Dean too, or if they were going to have to find something stronger.
Castiel watched on in fascination, stepping forward as the hunter cradles his tea. “If I may ask… your mixture eases your pain yes?”
The hunter glances over, nodding “Best thing before morphine… all natural too… picked it up from another hunter years ago. Why?”
“I see…. I wondered… Could you teach me how to make it?...I cannot heal Dean, but I want to help in other ways, to make him more comfortable as he begins his difficult journey.”
Bobby actually smiles, the small, knowing kind that left the angel confused. He didn’t have to be a genius to see the devotion the celestial being had for Dean.
“Yeah, sure why not. Come over here.”
These are my people, I can help
So, for the next hour, Bobby explained herbs and brewing methods to the seraph, his voice a kind of patience he had once used with the Winchester boys when they were young. It hadn’t taken all that long for the angel to get the brew right, looking almost proud of himself as he stared at the cup in his hands.
He wanted to give it to Dean, to give him just a little something, but was afraid of waking him up. Glancing at the stairs, Cas decided he could leave it beside the bed until he woke, Sam could help him drink it.
That was what he did, flying in silently, taking a moment to gaze at the brothers. Sam awake now, but still reaching across to comfort Dean. The angel nodded in silent greeting, setting the cup carefully on the small bedside table and stepping back away.
“It will help” He murmured to Sam, disappearing seconds later.
***
Dean didn’t come down for dinner; his absence was more obvious than Sam’s half hidden pain. None of them said anything about it. Not the younger Winchester, who had been by his brother’s bedside all day. Not Castiel, who worried none of the information he’d been able to uncover thus-far would help. Certainly not Bobby, who had carefully plated dinner for the older brother, who kept looking at the stairs hoping his boy was going to get through this, but knowing it was going to be damn near impossible.
The silence hung as heavy as it had this morning, and nothing could be done about it.
Sam took the plate for Dean with him when he finished his own meal. He climbed those stairs almost silently, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He had a feeling this was what life would be for the foreseeable future, and he tried to tell himself, that as long as Dean was breathing, it would be okay. Heaven couldn’t get their hands on him, and they wouldn’t have to fight any reapers to keep him here.
With dinner, the younger brother carefully injected another dose of his blood into Dean. He knew his brother couldn’t face his fears if he was without hallucinations, but if anyone deserved a break for an hour or so, it was the hunter who had given everything his whole life.
I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you?
The spasms lasted barely a minute this time, but it still made Sam sick to his stomach to watch. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to cradle his brother until it all stopped, knowing Dean would fight him for just a small act. He helped the older man sit, settling the plate on his lap like this was some normal room service and not a sickbed.
Dean ate without another sound, thankful for the extra care Bobby had gone to in arranging the meal, and for Sam taking the time to bring him something to eat after being bedridden most of the day. The brothers didn’t need to speak, they knew well how one another was feeling, what they needed.
He sat silently after that; Sam having taken his empty plate back to the kitchen. For now, he was devoid of disruptions, leaving time to really come to terms with what he was going to have to face in coming days. Dean knew he had to do this, Sam needed him, his baby brother didn’t deserve to be alone.
“You don’t friggin’ scare me old man”
His whisper was not directed to the hallucination that had been at the end of his bed prior to his last dose of blood, but to the memory of the fear he held as a boy. The fear he didn’t know how to process without shoving everything down. That wasn’t any way to live, and Dean had learned that the hard way.
***
Sam found Bobby sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal, adding new pages on Phobophages as if it would somehow fix Dean. It wouldn’t, but it may just help other hunters if they ever encounter such a creature. It wouldn’t help all of them, but perhaps the warning was enough to put measures in place to avoid coming in contact to the toxic blood.
“Hey Bobby…” The younger Winchester sounded as exhausted as he felt.
“Sam” gruff voice still somehow as gentle as it had been hours ago. “How’s he doing?”
Bobby didn’t want to ask, he feared the answer, but he needed to be kept in the loop. Sam sat on the couch beneath the window with a sigh, elbows against his knees as he rubs his face. He couldn’t get Dean’s sobs out of his mind yet, the memory of this morning seared into his memory.
“He’s… Coping… ate dinner with little problem, gave him another dose but…” He looks at the older man, eyes devastatingly sad.
“He doesn’t deserve this Bobby… I mean, Dean’s given more than any of us… He went to Hell for me and barely batted an eye about any of it when he got back… even if I know just how badly it messed him up… He gave everything for me…. And I can’t do anything for him.”
His hand moved to the scratches hidden beneath the layers of his coat and shirt, itching to make some of this ache more physical so it didn’t feel like his heart was going to shatter. Dean needed him alert.
Bobby offered an understanding nod “You’re doin’ more than the rest of us can Sam… I know it don’t feel a bit like it’s makin’ a difference, but it is… Progress is just gonna take a little longer this time.”
The older hunter stands slowly, abandoning his papers. He drops himself in the vacant space beside the taller, dragging a box from the floor over to his feet. He took Sam’s arm, watching the younger debate fighting. But he decided, Bobby wouldn’t tear him a new one because of this, the man knew what pain was. Knew it was too hard to cope sometimes.
Bobby sat in silence beside Sam and gently cleaned the jagged marks on the younger hunter’s forearm, wrapping them and offering a tight smile. He’d look after these boys, no matter how small the task.
“You and Dean ain’t that different you know… One of you is down, the other sits vigil until an answer comes along, turn it into your sole mission to fix things… you two idjits aren’t alone… you can lean on us…Me, Cas.”
Sam’s eyes were fixed on the soft bandages wrapped over his marred wrist, the gentle care of the old hands that had tended to so many wounds for the brothers over the years. He didn’t know if he could accept the help, still blaming himself for this mess, but maybe, if Dean was choosing to allow help, he could try.
“You’re right… I guess I learned that from him… But he shouldn’t have had to take on everything….to endure this”
Then, Sam asks something that had Castiel stepping to the doorway, eager to hear the answer as well. Something that would most certainly lead to a very difficult conversation.
“Bobby… why didn’t you ever try to get us out?... get Dean out… We could have stayed here with you.”
Bobby sighs sadly, pulling his cap off to rub his face, glancing between angel and hunter. That was a loaded question, one he’d been long since anticipating. But not from Sam, from Dean, the one who had suffered the most on the road with John Winchester.
“I did try… You couldn’t’ve been more than five the first time I saw it… John was roughing Dean around when you lot got here. He needed ammunition and lamb’s blood…nothing that told me exactly that somethin’ was goin’ on, but the way your brother straightened up, rushed to follow all his orders….”
Sam nodded, he knew the sight, watched Dean rush to John’s beck and call his whole life. He’d given him grief about it when He’d first returned to hunting after Jessica’s death, but now, he was finally understanding why.
“You were just a kid, draggin’ books as big as you around in the hopes you could catch your brother in a good enough mood to read those fairytales to you.” He laughs sadly. “When I spoke to John, he denied a single thing, should’ve seen through the lies…. Over the years I saw it more. Day I took Dean to play catch the first time, instead of working on his aim, I tore him a new one on the phone, tried to keep you kids here… Never worked”
Castiel walked quietly, settling himself down in the corner, listening to Bobby tell the tale of his own guilt, of being unable to do the one thing he’d needed to do. Heaven had abandoned Dean in his most vulnerable years, and He would find out who told them to stay out of it and make them regret it.
“Bobby…” Sam rests his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You did more than anyone else did…You made a little part of his life feel normal…It’s more than we got anywhere else”
Singer nodded, he’d give anything to have saved Dean back then, but they had learned one couldn’t change the past. They were a team now, that much was obvious. Three broken Hunters and an angel separated from heaven. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but maybe for them, it was enough.
***
“Sam?...Bobby?... Cas?”
In the silence, no one had noticed Dean inch down the stairs and prop himself in the doorway. His face was pale, side clutched by his arm. The older Winchester musters a weak smile as every head turned to him, Castiel already standing to move to aid him.
Sam waved the seraph back slightly as he stands himself, “Dean, you should be resting, what are you doing down here?”
“I could hear you lot talking… Felt pretty damn lonely up there all by myself.”
Bobby shook his head with a knowing smile. “Come on ya idjit, you sit here. You can rest while we finish talking… then we’re all hittin’ the sack.”
Of course Castiel was an exception, but the angel glad he could use the time while the humans slept, to do more research. Someone had to keep working in case this plan didn’t work .
The conversation shifted to Castiel’s hail Mary plan, Dean asking questions he didn’t have the strength to ask this morning. He was afraid that confronting this hallucination of his father would not fix his curse, but he saw a sad hope in Sam’s eyes, and he couldn’t shut that down. Not when his brother had already sacrificed his literal blood for him.
By the time Castiel had finished going through the whole explanation again, Dean was beginning to succumb to the pull of sleep once more. Sam stood with his brother carefully, scaling the stairs once more to that cosy little room at the top. The road ahead would be very, very long. But both boys were not alone in this fight this time, and whether they remembered it or not, the two older figures downstairs would keep them both safe, alive, and in one piece.