Fic: Five Times Bobby Called Dean to Check He Was Still Alive (and one time he didn’t)
Title: Five Times Bobby Called Dean to Check He Was Still Alive (and one time he didn’t).
Author: Nativestar
Pairing/Character: Dean and Sam. No pairings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing.
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing, gen
Word Count: 1,797
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Skin, Faith, In My Time of Dying and Jus In Bello. None for season 4, just speculation. No character deaths (other than canon ones.)
Author Notes: Inspired by the comments left by caffienekitty and gayeld for my last fic On Hold.
Summary: *points to title*
One
It was a man he’d never met who told him Dean Winchester was dead.
Bobby had called Fred Hodson, a collector of occult books, to enquire about a specific rare book on demon lore, when the guy had asked Bobby to pass on his condolences and that he was “sorry to hear about the Winchester kid.”
Not five minutes later and Bobby was looking at the St. Louis local news website. The picture was bad, but there was no doubting it was Dean.
It said he was dead.
It said Dean Winchester had tortured and killed several women before being shot dead in the last victim’s house. Bobby didn’t believe that for a second, Dean was one of the good guys, no doubt about that. He mentally started listing off more plausible reasons; possession, shapeshifer, curses, there were at least a dozen or so monsters that could influence or control a person’s actions or maybe it was a simple mistake. It wouldn’t be the first time a hunter was branded a monster when all they were trying to do was kill the real monster.
Please, let it be a shapeshifter. Anything, but Dean.
Dean didn’t deserve to die so young, labelled a vicious killer and shot down like an animal. Nothing was further from the truth.
Bobby grabbed his phone, scrolling through the address book before hitting the call button. It rang once, then twice before a familiar voice and the background noise of traffic greeted him.
“Hey, Bobby.”
Casual and relaxed like he was just calling to catch up and Bobby’s relief came out as anger as he shouted at the boy. But Dean was used to relief disguised as anger, and Bobby knew he got the message.
It was days like that when he felt he understood John Winchester better.
Two
Bobby had been researching non stop since he’d gotten the call from Sam. It’s his heart, Bobby…nothing the doctors can do…not long, a month at most. The words had chilled him but it was the tremble in Sam’s voice that had really scared Bobby.
Dean was dying.
The gung-ho, unstoppable soldier in his father’s war was dying. Slowly, painfully and about as far away from a blaze of glory as possible. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be that way and he definitely wasn’t supposed to die this young.
Parents should never outlive their children, and while Bobby wasn’t Dean’s father it didn’t feel much different.
It was so…ordinary. Simple, cold, hard medical facts and nothing supernatural, nothing could be exorcised or killed or burnt to heal Dean’s heart. It made Bobby feel helpless, in a way that he had vowed he never would again after the death of his wife.
But, just because the cause wasn’t supernatural didn’t mean that the solution couldn’t be. In fact, Joshua had phoned Bobby a half hour ago and told him about a faith healer in Nebraska that was supposed to be the real deal, and that Sam was taking Dean to check him out.
Bobby had been around long enough to know that the real deal always had strings attached. If he wasn’t a fake, it was dark magic. The stuff you really don’t want to get mixed up in. There’s always a price to pay and usually the ones paying it are innocent people.
He wondered if Sam realized that. He wondered if Sam would even care if Bobby called and warned him. All those boys really had was each other, and Bobby couldn’t blame Sam for doing everything he could to save Dean.
In the end, Bobby didn’t call Sam. Instead he picked up another book and began reading again. If the guy was a fake, they’d need another plan ready.
A day later and Bobby had exhausted his library. He’d found nothing that could help Dean, at least not without sacrificing a virgin or becoming some demon’s bitch. With a heavy heart, Bobby punched the familiar set of numbers into his phone. The call was picked up instantly.
“I’m okay, Bobby.” However, there was something in Dean’s voice that told Bobby he wasn’t, not entirely.
But he was alive, and for now, that was enough.
Three
After the car crash, all three Winchesters were broken. Physically and emotionally, they were just beginning to pick up the pieces and Bobby honestly didn’t know if they’d find all of them. Especially with the largest piece only just hanging on to life.
Bobby had briefly seen Dean before he’d left. He’d sat by his side for five minutes and watched as a machine breathed for him, tubes fed and hydrated him and countless wires monitored his vitals. Even though a monitor sounded out his heartbeat, Dean had seemed lifeless and Bobby couldn’t help but think that he was already gone.
God knows he hadn’t wanted to leave, but Bobby knew he couldn’t have done anything there and he’d needed to do something. Towing the Impala back to his yard, that was all the help he could offer and he knew Dean would appreciate it most of all.
That had been two days ago. Yesterday, Sam had called sounding lost and close to tears as he told Bobby how Dean was barely hanging on, how he’d had to be resuscitated earlier and how he didn’t know where the hell his Dad was.
Probably going after the damn demon again, Sam had commented with barely repressed anger. Knowing what supplies John had requested, Bobby was inclined to agree. He just wasn’t as sure as Sam that it was for revenge.
Bobby hadn’t heard anything today, and praying for good news, he dialled Sam’s number.
“Hey, Bobby.” Not Sam’s voice.
“Dean?” His shoulders sagged and he let out a small sigh, the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding draining out of him.
“Yeah, uh…Sam’s sleeping. I didn’t…he looks like he needs it.” Dean’s voice was thick, and broke a little on Sam’s name.
“You okay, Dean? I mean, damn it’s good to hear your voice. The last time I saw you, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it again.”
“No, I’m…” Dean took a deep breath. “Dad’s dead, Bobby.”
Phone lines were really fucking inadequate sometimes. Bobby didn’t know what to say, he’d never been good with words, but he knew exactly what he needed to do.
“You boys come here. Alright. Dean? You boys come here.”
“Okay.” There was a shaky exhale. “Okay, we’ll see you soon, Bobby.”
Four
Bobby hadn’t heard from the Winchester boys for about a week, which maybe a couple of years ago wasn’t unheard of but recently, he couldn’t go more than a few days without one of them on the other end of the phone line. Sam worrying about Dean, Dean worrying about Sam, a question about a hunt, the only thing that changed was the day.
He only found out why he hadn’t heard from them when it came on the radio as he was driving back from a hunt.
“…the explosion at a police station in Monument, Colorado is thought to have been caused by a gas main rupturing. The blast killed six police officers, three FBI agents and two fugitives in custody. It’s believed the fugitives were the Winchester brothers, wanted for multiple counts of murder…”
He swerved the car off the road, ignoring the loud chorus of car horns. He quickly dialled a number that had become as familiar to him as his own, and the more it rang the lower Bobby’s heart sank until -
“Sorry, Bobby.”
“You damn well oughta be sorry, boy! What have I told you, Dean?!”
“We’ve been a little busy trying to avoid the demon bitch that killed all those people.” Dean’s voice was tight, like it was when he was in pain and Bobby’s anger fizzled away.
“You boys alright?”
Dean’s “Yeah, we’re okay,” collided with Sam’s “He got shot.” Business as usual then.
“What exactly happened?”
“It’s a long story.” He could hear the ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ behind the words.
“Why don’t you tell me about it over a cold beer at my place?” Long stories were for strangers, not Bobby.
Dean sighed, wearily. “We’ll be there in a few hours.”
Five
It’d been two hours since Sam had called, panicked and scared and demanding to know the incantation right now like Bobby is a walking encyclopaedia of obscure rituals.
It was a specific incantation, designed to reverse the effects of a lethal curse but thankfully it hadn’t taken Bobby long to find the book and recite the Latin over the phone. It was only then, just before he hanged up, that Sam decided to share that person he was hoping the ritual would save was Dean, leaving Bobby to sit, alone, praying that he hadn’t made a mistake in his haste.
That was two fucking hours ago.
Two hours spent with an overactive imagination and far too much knowledge of the consequences if it didn’t work. He paced. He double-checked the incantation. Then he paced some more and triple-checked it. Why the hell hasn’t Sam called back?
Bobby didn’t know which one to be more mad at, Sam for not calling or Dean for getting himself into a situation where he had to produce perfect incantations at a moments notice.
Cursing, he swiped his phone up off the table and dialled.
“It worked, Bobby.” Sam told him as soon as he answered the phone.
Thank God.
“Of course it damn well worked.” Bobby barked down the phone. “But it’s nice of you to let me know.”
“Sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I just, we had to leave and I didn’t--”
“Put him on the phone.”
There was shuffling and Bobby could distantly hear Sam’s voice ‘It’s Bobby, he wants to talk to you.’ More shuffling and then--
“Hey, Bobby” The voice was quiet and close to a whisper but unmistakeably Dean, and finally Bobby relaxed.
Six
It was four months since Dean had died. Sam was a wreck, hell, Bobby was a wreck and the world seemed to be heading the same way.
His phone rang.
Sam
The name glowed on the screen beneath the flashing call symbol. Bobby stared at the phone for a few seconds like he’d forgotten how to use it.
Talking to Sam was hard. For both of them.
Sighing, Bobby reached for the phone. He wasn’t going leave Sam alone. They were the closest thing to family they each had left. Plus, Dean would kick his ass for ignoring Sam. If he wasn’t in hell.
“Sam, what can I do for you?”
There was no reply, but Bobby could hear breathing. Has Sam been drinking again?
“Hey, Bobby.”
The reply finally came.
It wasn’t Sam’s voice.
~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading, I’d love to know what you thought of it. Feel free to point out mistakes or add concrit too.
Author: Nativestar
Pairing/Character: Dean and Sam. No pairings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing.
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing, gen
Word Count: 1,797
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Skin, Faith, In My Time of Dying and Jus In Bello. None for season 4, just speculation. No character deaths (other than canon ones.)
Author Notes: Inspired by the comments left by caffienekitty and gayeld for my last fic On Hold.
Summary: *points to title*
One
It was a man he’d never met who told him Dean Winchester was dead.
Bobby had called Fred Hodson, a collector of occult books, to enquire about a specific rare book on demon lore, when the guy had asked Bobby to pass on his condolences and that he was “sorry to hear about the Winchester kid.”
Not five minutes later and Bobby was looking at the St. Louis local news website. The picture was bad, but there was no doubting it was Dean.
It said he was dead.
It said Dean Winchester had tortured and killed several women before being shot dead in the last victim’s house. Bobby didn’t believe that for a second, Dean was one of the good guys, no doubt about that. He mentally started listing off more plausible reasons; possession, shapeshifer, curses, there were at least a dozen or so monsters that could influence or control a person’s actions or maybe it was a simple mistake. It wouldn’t be the first time a hunter was branded a monster when all they were trying to do was kill the real monster.
Please, let it be a shapeshifter. Anything, but Dean.
Dean didn’t deserve to die so young, labelled a vicious killer and shot down like an animal. Nothing was further from the truth.
Bobby grabbed his phone, scrolling through the address book before hitting the call button. It rang once, then twice before a familiar voice and the background noise of traffic greeted him.
“Hey, Bobby.”
Casual and relaxed like he was just calling to catch up and Bobby’s relief came out as anger as he shouted at the boy. But Dean was used to relief disguised as anger, and Bobby knew he got the message.
It was days like that when he felt he understood John Winchester better.
Two
Bobby had been researching non stop since he’d gotten the call from Sam. It’s his heart, Bobby…nothing the doctors can do…not long, a month at most. The words had chilled him but it was the tremble in Sam’s voice that had really scared Bobby.
Dean was dying.
The gung-ho, unstoppable soldier in his father’s war was dying. Slowly, painfully and about as far away from a blaze of glory as possible. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be that way and he definitely wasn’t supposed to die this young.
Parents should never outlive their children, and while Bobby wasn’t Dean’s father it didn’t feel much different.
It was so…ordinary. Simple, cold, hard medical facts and nothing supernatural, nothing could be exorcised or killed or burnt to heal Dean’s heart. It made Bobby feel helpless, in a way that he had vowed he never would again after the death of his wife.
But, just because the cause wasn’t supernatural didn’t mean that the solution couldn’t be. In fact, Joshua had phoned Bobby a half hour ago and told him about a faith healer in Nebraska that was supposed to be the real deal, and that Sam was taking Dean to check him out.
Bobby had been around long enough to know that the real deal always had strings attached. If he wasn’t a fake, it was dark magic. The stuff you really don’t want to get mixed up in. There’s always a price to pay and usually the ones paying it are innocent people.
He wondered if Sam realized that. He wondered if Sam would even care if Bobby called and warned him. All those boys really had was each other, and Bobby couldn’t blame Sam for doing everything he could to save Dean.
In the end, Bobby didn’t call Sam. Instead he picked up another book and began reading again. If the guy was a fake, they’d need another plan ready.
A day later and Bobby had exhausted his library. He’d found nothing that could help Dean, at least not without sacrificing a virgin or becoming some demon’s bitch. With a heavy heart, Bobby punched the familiar set of numbers into his phone. The call was picked up instantly.
“I’m okay, Bobby.” However, there was something in Dean’s voice that told Bobby he wasn’t, not entirely.
But he was alive, and for now, that was enough.
Three
After the car crash, all three Winchesters were broken. Physically and emotionally, they were just beginning to pick up the pieces and Bobby honestly didn’t know if they’d find all of them. Especially with the largest piece only just hanging on to life.
Bobby had briefly seen Dean before he’d left. He’d sat by his side for five minutes and watched as a machine breathed for him, tubes fed and hydrated him and countless wires monitored his vitals. Even though a monitor sounded out his heartbeat, Dean had seemed lifeless and Bobby couldn’t help but think that he was already gone.
God knows he hadn’t wanted to leave, but Bobby knew he couldn’t have done anything there and he’d needed to do something. Towing the Impala back to his yard, that was all the help he could offer and he knew Dean would appreciate it most of all.
That had been two days ago. Yesterday, Sam had called sounding lost and close to tears as he told Bobby how Dean was barely hanging on, how he’d had to be resuscitated earlier and how he didn’t know where the hell his Dad was.
Probably going after the damn demon again, Sam had commented with barely repressed anger. Knowing what supplies John had requested, Bobby was inclined to agree. He just wasn’t as sure as Sam that it was for revenge.
Bobby hadn’t heard anything today, and praying for good news, he dialled Sam’s number.
“Hey, Bobby.” Not Sam’s voice.
“Dean?” His shoulders sagged and he let out a small sigh, the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding draining out of him.
“Yeah, uh…Sam’s sleeping. I didn’t…he looks like he needs it.” Dean’s voice was thick, and broke a little on Sam’s name.
“You okay, Dean? I mean, damn it’s good to hear your voice. The last time I saw you, I wasn’t sure I’d hear it again.”
“No, I’m…” Dean took a deep breath. “Dad’s dead, Bobby.”
Phone lines were really fucking inadequate sometimes. Bobby didn’t know what to say, he’d never been good with words, but he knew exactly what he needed to do.
“You boys come here. Alright. Dean? You boys come here.”
“Okay.” There was a shaky exhale. “Okay, we’ll see you soon, Bobby.”
Four
Bobby hadn’t heard from the Winchester boys for about a week, which maybe a couple of years ago wasn’t unheard of but recently, he couldn’t go more than a few days without one of them on the other end of the phone line. Sam worrying about Dean, Dean worrying about Sam, a question about a hunt, the only thing that changed was the day.
He only found out why he hadn’t heard from them when it came on the radio as he was driving back from a hunt.
“…the explosion at a police station in Monument, Colorado is thought to have been caused by a gas main rupturing. The blast killed six police officers, three FBI agents and two fugitives in custody. It’s believed the fugitives were the Winchester brothers, wanted for multiple counts of murder…”
He swerved the car off the road, ignoring the loud chorus of car horns. He quickly dialled a number that had become as familiar to him as his own, and the more it rang the lower Bobby’s heart sank until -
“Sorry, Bobby.”
“You damn well oughta be sorry, boy! What have I told you, Dean?!”
“We’ve been a little busy trying to avoid the demon bitch that killed all those people.” Dean’s voice was tight, like it was when he was in pain and Bobby’s anger fizzled away.
“You boys alright?”
Dean’s “Yeah, we’re okay,” collided with Sam’s “He got shot.” Business as usual then.
“What exactly happened?”
“It’s a long story.” He could hear the ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ behind the words.
“Why don’t you tell me about it over a cold beer at my place?” Long stories were for strangers, not Bobby.
Dean sighed, wearily. “We’ll be there in a few hours.”
Five
It’d been two hours since Sam had called, panicked and scared and demanding to know the incantation right now like Bobby is a walking encyclopaedia of obscure rituals.
It was a specific incantation, designed to reverse the effects of a lethal curse but thankfully it hadn’t taken Bobby long to find the book and recite the Latin over the phone. It was only then, just before he hanged up, that Sam decided to share that person he was hoping the ritual would save was Dean, leaving Bobby to sit, alone, praying that he hadn’t made a mistake in his haste.
That was two fucking hours ago.
Two hours spent with an overactive imagination and far too much knowledge of the consequences if it didn’t work. He paced. He double-checked the incantation. Then he paced some more and triple-checked it. Why the hell hasn’t Sam called back?
Bobby didn’t know which one to be more mad at, Sam for not calling or Dean for getting himself into a situation where he had to produce perfect incantations at a moments notice.
Cursing, he swiped his phone up off the table and dialled.
“It worked, Bobby.” Sam told him as soon as he answered the phone.
Thank God.
“Of course it damn well worked.” Bobby barked down the phone. “But it’s nice of you to let me know.”
“Sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I just, we had to leave and I didn’t--”
“Put him on the phone.”
There was shuffling and Bobby could distantly hear Sam’s voice ‘It’s Bobby, he wants to talk to you.’ More shuffling and then--
“Hey, Bobby” The voice was quiet and close to a whisper but unmistakeably Dean, and finally Bobby relaxed.
Six
It was four months since Dean had died. Sam was a wreck, hell, Bobby was a wreck and the world seemed to be heading the same way.
His phone rang.
Sam
The name glowed on the screen beneath the flashing call symbol. Bobby stared at the phone for a few seconds like he’d forgotten how to use it.
Talking to Sam was hard. For both of them.
Sighing, Bobby reached for the phone. He wasn’t going leave Sam alone. They were the closest thing to family they each had left. Plus, Dean would kick his ass for ignoring Sam. If he wasn’t in hell.
“Sam, what can I do for you?”
There was no reply, but Bobby could hear breathing. Has Sam been drinking again?
“Hey, Bobby.”
The reply finally came.
It wasn’t Sam’s voice.
~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading, I’d love to know what you thought of it. Feel free to point out mistakes or add concrit too.