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spn_summergenTitle: They Grew Up Heroes
Recipient: jennytork
part one
Chapter Three – They Grew Up Heroes
It was the call Bobby had dreaded ever since his boys started hunting together. He knew it would happen one day - but knowing it was going to happen and having to listen to Sam’s broken sobs down the phone line was another matter. Bobby had never felt more useless in his life, and hadn’t felt this enormity of grief since Karen...
He had to pull himself together; Sam needed him. “Sammy, take a deep breath. Is he...is Dean...”
Sam took a deep breath and carried on more articulately, “He’s had...had a major heart attack. The...the doc says there’s noth-nothing they can do.”
An icy hand gripped Bobby’s heart and he had to take deep, calming breaths too. “Okay, okay, jus’ don’t panic, we can fix this, we know stuff the docs don’t.”
“Yeah...yeah, I was kinda hoping you’d say that.” The relief in Sam’s voice made Bobby feel instantly guilty. He had no clue how to ‘fix’ Dean, he just hoped that somewhere in his books or among his contacts there would be a cure.
“How the hell did it happen?” Bobby asked, confused. He knew they were after a Rawhead, so he couldn’t understand how Dean ended up having a frigging heart attack.
“We...we found two kids locked in a cupboard in a basement. The fuckin’ Rawhead came at us, Dean told me...” Sam took another deep breath to stop sobbing. “He told me to take the kids out, and...and when I went back, he...he was lying in a pool of water. Bobby, he was electrocuted when he killed it...”
“Holy shit,” Bobby groaned.
“Bobby...the doc said Dean’s only got weeks...” Sam started to cry again and Bobby wanted to reach through the phone line and hug his boy.
“Sammy, he’s gonna be okay, you hear me?” Bobby could imagine Sam nodding. “I’m gonna find a way to fix him.” Bobby swore under his breath. It was so fucking typical of his luck that he’d badly sprained his ankle and couldn’t drive. “An’ tell him to be more damned careful in future.”
Sam made a noise that was half-sob, half-laugh. “I will, Bobby. And Bobby...I guess we should let Dad know. Could you...?”
“Sure, kid. You let me know when he wakes up, y’hear?”
“Yeah, of course, Bobby.”
Bobby put the phone down and did something he hadn’t done in years. He folded his arms on his desk, rested his head on them and let his tears fall. This was some fuckin’ nightmare. His boy just couldn’t be seriously ill; his wonderful warm heart couldn’t be so badly damaged it was failing him. Bobby regretted all the times he’d told him to keep the noise down, to stop fidgeting, to stop yakking. He’d give anything to hear AC/DC blasting from Dean’s room, or to hear him chattering away about his day, his friends, his latest girl, the latest action hero movie.
He pulled himself together and picked up the phone. He was so angry with John for going AWOL for the past few months that he didn’t want to tell him about Dean – if the man cared about his sons he’d at least contact them more’n twice a year. But he knew he should, he had to. He did put it off for a while as he rang Pastor Jim, Caleb, Rufus...anyone he could think of. They were all sympathetic and said they’d do their best to help. None of them had a definitive cure though, although Rufus knew of a hoodoo priestess in New Orleans who was said to be able to raise the dead.
Bobby poured himself a large whiskey and dialed the last known number he had for John. “Hey, John. Not sure if this number’s even workin’ but I gotta tell ya... I’m sorry, but it's Dean. He's sick, got injured on a hunt. It’s his heart...and the docs say there's nothin’ they can do. But they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Call me when...if you get this message.”
Bobby spent the next few hours poring over some of his books, and waiting - longing - for the phone to ring, to hear Sam telling him it wasn’t as bad as they thought.
When Sam finally called, Bobby almost passed out in relief. “He’s awake, Bobby, grouchy as hell and complaining that the nurses aren’t hot.”
“Gimme the phone, asshat,” Dean’s voice called out.
“Dean?” Bobby tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “How ya doin’?”
“Feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train. Other than that, I’m good.”
“You’re a friggin’ idjit, y’know that?”
“Yeah, guess so. But the monster’s dead, the kids are safe.”
“An’ that makes it alright?”
“What can I say? It’s the nature of the job.”
Bobby knew Dean was putting on a brave face, so he resisted the urge to rant down the phone at him. “I’m gonna find a cure, Dean,” he vowed, hoping to God he could.
“That’d be...awesome.” Dean’s voice cracked a little, betraying his emotion.
“Bobby?” Sam took over. “Any news?”
“None so far, kid. But a lot of people are lookin’, and we’ll find something.”
“Oh...okay,” Sam’s disappointment weighed heavily on Bobby.
“It’s only been a matter of hours, something’ll turn up,” Bobby promised.
Something did turn up, the very next day. Bobby had already had to referee on the phone between the boys, as Dean had discharged himself from the hospital and was back at the motel with a very pissed off Sam. So when a hunter he’d met once in Reno told him about a faith healer, his natural skepticism was somewhat lessened by his need to save Dean. Seemed this guy, Roy Le Grange, was as real as a deal could be. He’d cured people with terminal illnesses, and made the blind see, the deaf hear and the lame walk. The weird twist was that the guy was blind – and not able to heal himself.
Bobby knew he was grasping at straws, but this was their only option. He rang Sam and told him of the ‘specialist’ in Nebraska. Sam was so eager to get going, he almost hung up before thanking Bobby, who imagined Sam hurriedly packing their things and bundling a protesting Dean into the car.
Bobby couldn’t settle to anything and would have paced the floor if not for his injured foot; thankfully it only took a day for the boys to travel to Nebraska and he received the phone call he’d been longing for.
“Bobby, it worked!” Sam announced. “Le Grange is the real deal; he laid his hands on Dean and healed him.”
“Thank God...” Bobby chuckled in relief.
“Sammy, lemme speak to him,” he heard Dean’s voice in the background, sounding upset.
“Dean, why can’t you just chalk this up as a win?” Sam asked.
“I told you, there’s something off about it...” Dean retorted.
“Boys,” Bobby interrupted, “can one of you tell me what in hell’s going on?”
“Le Grange called me to the front of the friggin’ tent, laid his hands on me and I felt...cold and strange,” Dean explained. “I fell to the floor and when I looked up, there was a creepy old guy standing next to Le Grange. He stared at me for a moment, then just vanished.”
“But you’re cured? You’re well?” Bobby had to clarify that fact.
“Yeah, gonna get checked over at the local clinic, but I feel great. Except for a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
“It’s great news, Dean. I can’t tell you how fuckin’ relieved I am.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean sighed. Bobby kinda wished the kid was happier to be alive.
Turned out Dean had been right, although it wasn’t Le Grange that was ‘off’ but his wife. She had found a spell to trap a reaper and use its power, using it to help her husband "heal" people, and to kill those she believed were immoral in their place.
Dean was angry with Bobby and Sam for making him go to Le Grange, and felt guilty that some guy had died instead of him. Sam was guilt-stricken, too, but also relieved. As for Bobby...well, Bobby had never felt so conflicted. Yes, some innocent guy had died to save Dean, and he did feel guilty about that, but he couldn’t deny that he was so fucking happy that Dean was okay.
And he couldn’t deny that he’d do it again if it meant saving one of his boys; the things he was willing to do for them scared him sometimes. But they were his boys; he’d done his best to raise them right, to give them a good life after the crap hand fate had dealt them. He’d do anything for his boys.
Finding the Colt had been a major success for Sam and Dean. It was all thanks to Miss Missouri Moseley, and a hunter named Daniel Elkins, who had successfully hidden the gun for years. He’d been reluctant to part with it, but Missouri could be very persuasive.
The boys had spent the past few months hunting, while looking for their Dad, and had saved a lot of people in the process. Bobby was concerned when John suddenly reappeared, asking for Dean and Sam to meet him; he said he was closing in on the demon and needed the Colt. He explained his long absence by saying he was keeping the demon away from them; Dean was relieved, Sam was pissed, but they both knew their Dad had to have the Colt to kill the demon.
Bobby had a gut feeling that things were gonna go south, so he packed a bag, climbed into his truck and headed out to meet his boys. The location John had chosen to meet his sons was an old hunter’s cabin in the wilds of rural Missouri, and that alone made Bobby nervous.
“That’s a real out of the way place, Dean,” Bobby had said, when Dean told him.
“I know, but Dad said we need to choose somewhere safe to meet,” Dean explained. “He said he’s closing in on the demon, and it’s possible the bastard might be on his tail, too. An’ he wants to be ready to face him, he doesn’t wanna be unprepared.”
“Okay...” Bobby sighed. “Right, you take care, kiddo.”
“You know careful’s my middle name, Bobby,” Dean replied.
“Nah, your middle name’s idjit, ya idjit,” Bobby retorted, wishing he felt happier about this whole family reunion.
Bobby knew he was probably being overcautious. Perhaps he was a little jealous; John had barely been there for his sons in the past sixteen years, yet he was the one the boys – okay, just Dean – got so excited about seeing. Despite all the broken promises and missed visits, Dean still needed his Dad, still wanted to see him, still needed his approval.
Bobby sighed and turned the radio on, and soon Willie Nelson’s voice was filling his truck. He sang along, his voice even more raspy and growly than ol’ Willie’s, but it took his mind off things for a moment. He pulled in for gas and called Dean.
“Hey, Bobby, what’s up?” Dean asked, sounding cheerful.
“Just wanted to check in with you. Are you there?”
“Yeah, I left a message on your home phone.”
“Ah, right, I’m not home right now...”
“Dad’s here, Bobby, an’ he thinks the demon’s close. We’re gonna nail the bastard!”
“That’s...good,” Bobby conceded, “I’m on my way.”
“Really?” Dean sounded pleasantly surprised. “That’s great, we’ll probably need all the help we can get. We’re gonna trap him, then shoot him,”
“You make it sound so simple,” Bobby smiled, admiring the optimism of youth.
“Well, knowing our luck it won’t be, but simple plans are usually the best, aren’t they?”
“True,” Bobby agreed. “Listen, kid, I’m a few hours out, so hold yer horses ‘til I get there, okay?”
“I can’t promise that, Bobby. If he shows up, well...”
“Sure, I get it,” Bobby sighed.
He wished he had a faster vehicle, or that transportation system from Star Trek, so that Scottie could beam him right-the-fuck there.
When he finally arrived, it was past midnight and he climbed out of the truck, happy to stretch his weary limbs. As he approached the cabin, he heard shouting and screams.
He ran to the door, hearing Sam yelling and Dean screaming in agony; he flung the door open into a nightmare scenario. John was holding Dean against the wall – Dean was in a bad way, covered in blood from his chest and his mouth, and Sam was pinned to the opposite wall, struggling against the invisible restraints. It took Bobby’s shocked mind a minute to catch up.
“Bobby... it’s him.... it’s the demon!” Sam shouted, just as John turned to face Bobby, his eyes glowing yellow. He released Dean, who crumpled to the floor, barely conscious. Bobby wanted to run to him, but he saw the Colt lying on the table and picked it up before the demon could react.
“Nice move, old man,” the demon sneered. “You gonna kill me, kill your boys’ real Daddy? Betcha wanted to do this a lot of times over the past years. Betcha can’t wait to be their only one and only Daddy. Betcha can’t wait to do it now – but will your boys forgive you?”
“Shut your mouth,” Bobby growled.
“Not to worry though, Sammy clearly hates Daddy dearest, and Dean...well, Dean’s not gonna be around to miss him, so shoot away.”
“Bobby...no...” Dean begged, and Bobby may have given in, except that John flicked his wrist at that moment, lifting Dean’s battered body up off the floor, then slamming it down. Dean fell heavily and was no longer conscious – Bobby prayed he was still alive.
Bobby aimed for John’s shoulder, hoping to get the demon and not kill John. The shot rang out and John fell to the floor. Black smoke billowed out of his mouth as he screamed, but it swirled around the room, unable to escape from the warding etched into the cabin’s timbers many years ago by a cautious hunter.
Bobby started to recite the incantation to send the demon back to hell, when John screamed.
“Kill it, Sammy, kill it.”
Sam was on his feet, grabbing John’s journal and flipping it open, then started to recite an incantation Bobby had never heard. The demon’s essence writhed and shook like it was in pain; it screamed and wailed, then burst into a million tiny pieces before vanishing.
“Fuck me, it worked!” John muttered, already crawling across the floor towards Dean’s too-still body. “Dean, hey, Dean!”
Sam was by Dean’s side in seconds, checking his pulse, “He’s still alive, but he’s losing so much blood. Bobby, please...” Bobby was touched by Sam’s faith in him.
“Lemme see, son,” he said, kneeling by his oldest boy’s body.
“You gotta save him, Bobby. I could see it, feel it, hear it all...” John was crying – Bobby had never seen the man cry before.
“Sam, see to your Dad’s wound, I gotta work on Dean. There ain’t any reception out here, we’ll have to patch them up and get ‘em to the nearest hospital.”
Sam looked reluctant to leave Dean, but Bobby coaxed him. “I got this. An’ Dean’ll kill you if you let your Daddy bleed to death.”
Sam gave a startled, shaky laugh. “That’s so inappropriate, Bobby.”
“Yeah, sue me, college boy,” Bobby was already assessing Dean, but he couldn’t see an obvious external injury, just five gouge marks on his chest. He guessed it was mainly internal. “Crap, crap, crap,” he muttered.
“Bobby?” Sam sounded worried.
“I can’t see where all the blood’s coming from,” Bobby explained.
“He was kinda reaching inside his chest, pulling the blood out through his skin...” John informed them.
“Balls,” Bobby cussed, wrapping Dean’s chest as tightly as he could with bandages from the – luckily well stocked - first aid kit he’d grabbed from the shelf. “That fucking son-of-a-bitch. C’mon, we got no time to lose.”
They got John to his feet and out to the truck, then carried Dean out to the Impala, laying him gently on the back seat.
“You gonna be okay to drive, Sammy?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, wiping his tear-streaked face with his hands and squaring his shoulders. “I’m good. Gotta get him safe.”
The nearest hospital was a forty-five minute drive and Bobby was tempted more than once to pull over and dump John’s fretting, whinging ass on the roadside. The man was hardly making a lick of sense, but then he said something that made Bobby’s blood freeze.
“Sammy’s safe now, whatever that yellow-eyed bastard had planned for him, it’s over...”
“What d’you mean?”
“Azazel, he was plannin’ on using Sam or one of his other psychic kids to open the Devil’s Gate...”
“John, what the fuck? Can you start from the beginning here?”
John sighed. “I trapped a demon a while back, who told me a little bit about Azazel’s – that’s yellow eyes name – plan to raise an army and bring back Lucifer...”
“Lucifer? As in...”
“Yep, the real deal. Satan, the devil, old Nick. You know about the nursery fires?”
“Yeah...” Bobby admitted. “Ash found connections between some kids that had gone psycho, and their mom’s all died in nursery fires when they were six months old.”
“Does he know?” John asked, anxiously. Bobby knew who he meant.
“No, Sam doesn’t know. I didn’t know what it meant myself. And all he’s had so far have been dreams an’ premonitions. I ain’t told Dean, didn’t wanna freak either of ‘em out.”
“Good, that’s good. He doesn’t need to know.” John ran his fingers through his hair. “When Azazel was inside me, he was goading me, telling me how much he’d enjoyed killing Mary, killing all the other mothers. And...and how he’d bled into Sam’s mouth, into all the babies’ mouths, giving them some of his power.”
“Holy fuck...that’s why Sammy’s had those dreams?”
“Yeah. Could’ve been worse, as you know.”
“I just hope his powers have died with him.”
“Me too...” John shifted and tried to hold in a pained moan.
“We’re nearly there,” Bobby glanced at John, who was looking very pale. They’d entered the outskirts of Jefferson, thankfully.
Once they got to the hospital, it was a whirlwind of nurses, doctors, and so many questions, about what had happened, how Dean had been so badly injured. All Bobby could do was tell them the story he’d concocted, that Dean had been attacked by a bear, and when Bobby had shot at the bear, John had got injured in the crossfire.
Dean was whisked off to ICU, his heart and lungs were damaged and he needed a blood transfusion. The doctors were stumped, they’d never seen anything like it and said it was like something had reached in and sucked the blood from Dean’s major organs. It wasn’t looking good for Dean.
Bobby, John and Sam tried to come up with a way of saving him and the only thing Bobby could think of was making a crossroads deal, trading his life for Dean’s. And he was more’n happy to do so.
He didn’t tell either Winchester of his plan, he told them he was going to get some air.
At the nearest crossroads, Bobby hastily buried his photo and waited few minutes. A short guy in a suit appeared.
“Bobby Singer, well, as I live and breathe. Or not,” The demon grinned. “This is an unexpected pleasure. I don’t usually carry out these deals myself, but when I heard it was you...well, I had to seal this deal personally.”
“Balls, does this mean I gotta kiss your ugly mug?”
“Afraid so, sweetie. That is, if you wanna save poor Dean’s life?”
“Wouldn’t be here for no other reason. Can you do it?”
“Can I do it?” The demon looked offended. “I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Crowley, King of the Crossroads. And I can do any-bloody-thing I like.”
“Very impressive, King Crowley,” Bobby growled, then thought he’d better stay on the oily git’s good side. “So, how does this work? We kiss and I get ten years?”
“Ten years? You are joking. You’re a hunter, a major pain in the ass. And sweet baby Dean is also a fucking hunter. Why would I want to do either of you any favors?”
“You’re the crossroads demon, you have to make a deal.”
“True, but there’s no way you’re getting ten years, grandpa.”
“Okay, five years.”
“No way, Jose.”
“Tell me what you’ll give me, oh King,” Bobby drawled sarcastically.
“You get to say your goodbyes. Dean has a miraculous recovery. Then you die.”
“No way. My boys need me,” Bobby protested.
“Your boys? Last time I checked, you’re just the poor sap they were dumped on.”
“Listen here, Mr. Fancy Pants. I adopted those two boys, and they grew up great, they grew up heroes. I was there for them, through it all - their childhood illnesses, their teen tantrums, their first dates…”
“Okay, okay, enough with the sob story.” Crowley sighed. “One year, you can have one year. It will give you time to put your house in order, so to speak. And I hated that smug git Azazel. But there’s one extra proviso.”
“Yeah?” Bobby asked cautiously.
“Excuse me,” a gruff voice spoke from behind Crowley, and Bobby was surprised to see a messy-haired trench-coat wearing guy standing there.
“Who the fuck are you?” Crowley asked, turning to face the man.
“I think you know,” the stranger said. “And you know there will be no deals, no provisos.”
“Oh bloody hell.” Crowley’s face paled, then he disappeared.
“Hold yer horses, buddy, I needed that deal,” Bobby grumbled.
“No, you do not. Your actions earlier today were...unexpected, Robert Singer. You have saved Dean Winchester from his fate, along with that of his brother.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bobby asked the guy. “How’d you know my name?”
“My name is Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord.”
Bobby would’ve laughed in the guy’s face, but something about the sincerity of his blue eyes and the way he held himself, like he wasn’t used to being in a human body, made Bobby believe him. “Well, I ain’t met an angel before, I’d be more pleased but that deal was Dean’s last hope…”
“Dean is alive and well,” Castiel informed him.
“What? How...when…”
“I have healed him. He is tired and will need to rest for a few days.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“You will not believe this until you see Dean,” Castiel tilted his head to one side to regard Bobby for a moment. “Very well.” He reached out and touched Bobby’s forehead; suddenly the world spun worse than the Tilt-a-Whirl Bobby had been on once at a carnival. But it was over in seconds and he was back in the hospital, in a waiting room with a startled John and Sam.
Bobby swallowed down the feeling of nausea that riding the angel Tilt-a-Whirl had given him to focus on Sam, who looked pale but was grinning. “Hey, boy,” he managed to say before Sam threw himself into his arms. “Whoa, you tryin’ to knock me over?” Bobby grumbled, but hugged Sam tight.
Sam huffed out a laugh as he released Bobby. “Sorry, but it’s Dean...they’re calling it a miracle; they’ve made us come out while they check him over. He’s awake, Bobby, he’s awake…”
Sam was crying now, and Bobby felt his own eyes sting. “Thank God...thank you, Castiel,” Bobby turned around to thank the angel, but he wasn’t there.
“Who’s Castiel?” John asked.
“He’s…” Bobby paused, unsure what to tell them.
Just then a doctor came in, smiling and bemused. “Well, you’ll all be pleased to know that Dean is fine.” He scratched his head. “He’s completely healthy, we don’t understand it. He had lost so much blood...perhaps our initial findings were incorrect...yes, that must be it.”
“Don’t worry too much, doc.” Bobby patted the guy’s shoulder. “We’re just pleased he’s okay.”
“Yeah, can we see him?” Sam asked eagerly.
“I’d like to see you try an’ stop him,” John added, smiling at Sam.
Dean was sitting up in bed, looking exhausted, but he smiled at them as they came in.
“Hey, it’s the Three Stooges,” he remarked.
“Dean, wow, I thought...I thought we’d lost you,” Sam whispered, like he was afraid to speak and break the spell.
“Nah, it’ll take more than some yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch to kill me,” Dean quipped, but Bobby could tell he was putting on a brave face. “C’mere, sasquatch.”
Sam managed to cram his large frame onto the bed next to Dean and wrap his arm around him, smiling so wide his face was basically teeth and dimples. John held back, leaning heavily on his crutches.
“Dad, fuck, your leg...shouldn’t you be in bed?” Dean asked.
“I’m good, but I’ll sit if that’s okay.” John looked sheepish.
“Why wouldn’t it be...oh,” Dean frowned, “look, it wasn’t you, okay?”
Bobby felt immensely proud of Dean right then and wiped the hot tears that had sprung to his eyes. Dean noticed, of course.
“Hey, Bobby, thank you,” Dean held out a hand to him and Bobby took it. “Wow, you... you saved me, and you killed the demon. You’re a goddamned hero…” Dean peered at Bobby. “No… fuck, Bobby what did you do?”
“What d’you mean?”
“If it wasn’t you...one of you did it, didn’t you? One of you made a fucking deal to save me, and you shouldn’t have, you…” Dean stopped mid-rant, his green eyes impossibly wide. “Castiel…”
Bobby turned to see the angel standing behind him.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said in his solemn manner.
“Who’s this guy? How’d he get in?”
“It’s okay, Dad. I think he healed me. I remember choking on my own blood, an’ real intense pain...then nothing, until I saw ol’ blue eyes here smiling down at me.”
“This is Castiel, he’s an angel,” Bobby explained, still barely able to believe it.
“I have been watching over Dean since before he was born,” Castiel looked at John, “and I was meant to save him, just not yet. Bobby did something we did not expect, and saved you all from your destinies.”
“Bobby, is this true?” Dean asked.
“I just did what I had to, to save you boys.” Bobby shrugged, embarrassed.
“I must go now, but Bobby, you were right in what you said to Crowley, these boys have grown up great, they have grown up heroes, thanks to you.”
Castiel turned to John and touched his forehead lightly. “You are a hero too, John Winchester. You have saved many people and will continue to do so, but you need to be fit.”
John blinked his eyes and ran his hand over his leg. “Holy shit…”
“I do not know what the future has in store for you, Dean, but I will continue to watch over you, and I will be there should you need me again,” Castiel said, then was gone before they could react. Dean started to cry; Bobby knew it was the shock of all that had happened to him in such a short space of time. Sam pulled him into a hug and Bobby motioned for John to follow him out of the room.
“Let’s leave them get some rest,” Bobby whispered, “heaven knows they need it.”
They walked in silence to the hospital cafe, both lost in thought. Over bitter coffee, John broke the silence.
“So, Crowley, eh?” he raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, King of the Crossroads. I tried to summon him once, heard he might have his grubby little hands on the Colt,” John rubbed his chin. “You were gonna make a deal.”
“Damn straight,” Bobby nodded. “An’ I’d have gone ahead with it, if I had to.”
“I know we ain’t always seen eye to eye, Bobby, but I gotta say thanks, for every-fucking-thing. You’ve raised my boys, you’ve saved their lives. I dunno how I can ever repay you.”
“I don’t want anything from you, John, except for you to remember you have two amazin’ sons, and to get to know ‘em, spend time with ‘em.”
“I can do that,” John smiled, “I guess now the demon’s dead, I got some time on my hands.”
“You gonna carry on huntin’?”
“Yeah, not much else I’m cut out for anymore. An’ as the angel said, I can do some good, save some people.”
Within the year, Dean had gone back to the Sioux Falls police department, and soon made friends with Deputy Sheriff Jody Mills. Sam returned to Stanford, but not to study law. He decided to study history and anthropology, with occult studies as a specialism; his research was already proving invaluable to many hunters. Both boys helped Bobby - and John - out on hunts whenever they could.
Bobby was so proud of his boys, his heroes.
Recipient: jennytork
part one
Chapter Three – They Grew Up Heroes
It was the call Bobby had dreaded ever since his boys started hunting together. He knew it would happen one day - but knowing it was going to happen and having to listen to Sam’s broken sobs down the phone line was another matter. Bobby had never felt more useless in his life, and hadn’t felt this enormity of grief since Karen...
He had to pull himself together; Sam needed him. “Sammy, take a deep breath. Is he...is Dean...”
Sam took a deep breath and carried on more articulately, “He’s had...had a major heart attack. The...the doc says there’s noth-nothing they can do.”
An icy hand gripped Bobby’s heart and he had to take deep, calming breaths too. “Okay, okay, jus’ don’t panic, we can fix this, we know stuff the docs don’t.”
“Yeah...yeah, I was kinda hoping you’d say that.” The relief in Sam’s voice made Bobby feel instantly guilty. He had no clue how to ‘fix’ Dean, he just hoped that somewhere in his books or among his contacts there would be a cure.
“How the hell did it happen?” Bobby asked, confused. He knew they were after a Rawhead, so he couldn’t understand how Dean ended up having a frigging heart attack.
“We...we found two kids locked in a cupboard in a basement. The fuckin’ Rawhead came at us, Dean told me...” Sam took another deep breath to stop sobbing. “He told me to take the kids out, and...and when I went back, he...he was lying in a pool of water. Bobby, he was electrocuted when he killed it...”
“Holy shit,” Bobby groaned.
“Bobby...the doc said Dean’s only got weeks...” Sam started to cry again and Bobby wanted to reach through the phone line and hug his boy.
“Sammy, he’s gonna be okay, you hear me?” Bobby could imagine Sam nodding. “I’m gonna find a way to fix him.” Bobby swore under his breath. It was so fucking typical of his luck that he’d badly sprained his ankle and couldn’t drive. “An’ tell him to be more damned careful in future.”
Sam made a noise that was half-sob, half-laugh. “I will, Bobby. And Bobby...I guess we should let Dad know. Could you...?”
“Sure, kid. You let me know when he wakes up, y’hear?”
“Yeah, of course, Bobby.”
Bobby put the phone down and did something he hadn’t done in years. He folded his arms on his desk, rested his head on them and let his tears fall. This was some fuckin’ nightmare. His boy just couldn’t be seriously ill; his wonderful warm heart couldn’t be so badly damaged it was failing him. Bobby regretted all the times he’d told him to keep the noise down, to stop fidgeting, to stop yakking. He’d give anything to hear AC/DC blasting from Dean’s room, or to hear him chattering away about his day, his friends, his latest girl, the latest action hero movie.
He pulled himself together and picked up the phone. He was so angry with John for going AWOL for the past few months that he didn’t want to tell him about Dean – if the man cared about his sons he’d at least contact them more’n twice a year. But he knew he should, he had to. He did put it off for a while as he rang Pastor Jim, Caleb, Rufus...anyone he could think of. They were all sympathetic and said they’d do their best to help. None of them had a definitive cure though, although Rufus knew of a hoodoo priestess in New Orleans who was said to be able to raise the dead.
Bobby poured himself a large whiskey and dialed the last known number he had for John. “Hey, John. Not sure if this number’s even workin’ but I gotta tell ya... I’m sorry, but it's Dean. He's sick, got injured on a hunt. It’s his heart...and the docs say there's nothin’ they can do. But they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Call me when...if you get this message.”
Bobby spent the next few hours poring over some of his books, and waiting - longing - for the phone to ring, to hear Sam telling him it wasn’t as bad as they thought.
When Sam finally called, Bobby almost passed out in relief. “He’s awake, Bobby, grouchy as hell and complaining that the nurses aren’t hot.”
“Gimme the phone, asshat,” Dean’s voice called out.
“Dean?” Bobby tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “How ya doin’?”
“Feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train. Other than that, I’m good.”
“You’re a friggin’ idjit, y’know that?”
“Yeah, guess so. But the monster’s dead, the kids are safe.”
“An’ that makes it alright?”
“What can I say? It’s the nature of the job.”
Bobby knew Dean was putting on a brave face, so he resisted the urge to rant down the phone at him. “I’m gonna find a cure, Dean,” he vowed, hoping to God he could.
“That’d be...awesome.” Dean’s voice cracked a little, betraying his emotion.
“Bobby?” Sam took over. “Any news?”
“None so far, kid. But a lot of people are lookin’, and we’ll find something.”
“Oh...okay,” Sam’s disappointment weighed heavily on Bobby.
“It’s only been a matter of hours, something’ll turn up,” Bobby promised.
Something did turn up, the very next day. Bobby had already had to referee on the phone between the boys, as Dean had discharged himself from the hospital and was back at the motel with a very pissed off Sam. So when a hunter he’d met once in Reno told him about a faith healer, his natural skepticism was somewhat lessened by his need to save Dean. Seemed this guy, Roy Le Grange, was as real as a deal could be. He’d cured people with terminal illnesses, and made the blind see, the deaf hear and the lame walk. The weird twist was that the guy was blind – and not able to heal himself.
Bobby knew he was grasping at straws, but this was their only option. He rang Sam and told him of the ‘specialist’ in Nebraska. Sam was so eager to get going, he almost hung up before thanking Bobby, who imagined Sam hurriedly packing their things and bundling a protesting Dean into the car.
Bobby couldn’t settle to anything and would have paced the floor if not for his injured foot; thankfully it only took a day for the boys to travel to Nebraska and he received the phone call he’d been longing for.
“Bobby, it worked!” Sam announced. “Le Grange is the real deal; he laid his hands on Dean and healed him.”
“Thank God...” Bobby chuckled in relief.
“Sammy, lemme speak to him,” he heard Dean’s voice in the background, sounding upset.
“Dean, why can’t you just chalk this up as a win?” Sam asked.
“I told you, there’s something off about it...” Dean retorted.
“Boys,” Bobby interrupted, “can one of you tell me what in hell’s going on?”
“Le Grange called me to the front of the friggin’ tent, laid his hands on me and I felt...cold and strange,” Dean explained. “I fell to the floor and when I looked up, there was a creepy old guy standing next to Le Grange. He stared at me for a moment, then just vanished.”
“But you’re cured? You’re well?” Bobby had to clarify that fact.
“Yeah, gonna get checked over at the local clinic, but I feel great. Except for a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
“It’s great news, Dean. I can’t tell you how fuckin’ relieved I am.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean sighed. Bobby kinda wished the kid was happier to be alive.
Turned out Dean had been right, although it wasn’t Le Grange that was ‘off’ but his wife. She had found a spell to trap a reaper and use its power, using it to help her husband "heal" people, and to kill those she believed were immoral in their place.
Dean was angry with Bobby and Sam for making him go to Le Grange, and felt guilty that some guy had died instead of him. Sam was guilt-stricken, too, but also relieved. As for Bobby...well, Bobby had never felt so conflicted. Yes, some innocent guy had died to save Dean, and he did feel guilty about that, but he couldn’t deny that he was so fucking happy that Dean was okay.
And he couldn’t deny that he’d do it again if it meant saving one of his boys; the things he was willing to do for them scared him sometimes. But they were his boys; he’d done his best to raise them right, to give them a good life after the crap hand fate had dealt them. He’d do anything for his boys.
Finding the Colt had been a major success for Sam and Dean. It was all thanks to Miss Missouri Moseley, and a hunter named Daniel Elkins, who had successfully hidden the gun for years. He’d been reluctant to part with it, but Missouri could be very persuasive.
The boys had spent the past few months hunting, while looking for their Dad, and had saved a lot of people in the process. Bobby was concerned when John suddenly reappeared, asking for Dean and Sam to meet him; he said he was closing in on the demon and needed the Colt. He explained his long absence by saying he was keeping the demon away from them; Dean was relieved, Sam was pissed, but they both knew their Dad had to have the Colt to kill the demon.
Bobby had a gut feeling that things were gonna go south, so he packed a bag, climbed into his truck and headed out to meet his boys. The location John had chosen to meet his sons was an old hunter’s cabin in the wilds of rural Missouri, and that alone made Bobby nervous.
“That’s a real out of the way place, Dean,” Bobby had said, when Dean told him.
“I know, but Dad said we need to choose somewhere safe to meet,” Dean explained. “He said he’s closing in on the demon, and it’s possible the bastard might be on his tail, too. An’ he wants to be ready to face him, he doesn’t wanna be unprepared.”
“Okay...” Bobby sighed. “Right, you take care, kiddo.”
“You know careful’s my middle name, Bobby,” Dean replied.
“Nah, your middle name’s idjit, ya idjit,” Bobby retorted, wishing he felt happier about this whole family reunion.
Bobby knew he was probably being overcautious. Perhaps he was a little jealous; John had barely been there for his sons in the past sixteen years, yet he was the one the boys – okay, just Dean – got so excited about seeing. Despite all the broken promises and missed visits, Dean still needed his Dad, still wanted to see him, still needed his approval.
Bobby sighed and turned the radio on, and soon Willie Nelson’s voice was filling his truck. He sang along, his voice even more raspy and growly than ol’ Willie’s, but it took his mind off things for a moment. He pulled in for gas and called Dean.
“Hey, Bobby, what’s up?” Dean asked, sounding cheerful.
“Just wanted to check in with you. Are you there?”
“Yeah, I left a message on your home phone.”
“Ah, right, I’m not home right now...”
“Dad’s here, Bobby, an’ he thinks the demon’s close. We’re gonna nail the bastard!”
“That’s...good,” Bobby conceded, “I’m on my way.”
“Really?” Dean sounded pleasantly surprised. “That’s great, we’ll probably need all the help we can get. We’re gonna trap him, then shoot him,”
“You make it sound so simple,” Bobby smiled, admiring the optimism of youth.
“Well, knowing our luck it won’t be, but simple plans are usually the best, aren’t they?”
“True,” Bobby agreed. “Listen, kid, I’m a few hours out, so hold yer horses ‘til I get there, okay?”
“I can’t promise that, Bobby. If he shows up, well...”
“Sure, I get it,” Bobby sighed.
He wished he had a faster vehicle, or that transportation system from Star Trek, so that Scottie could beam him right-the-fuck there.
When he finally arrived, it was past midnight and he climbed out of the truck, happy to stretch his weary limbs. As he approached the cabin, he heard shouting and screams.
He ran to the door, hearing Sam yelling and Dean screaming in agony; he flung the door open into a nightmare scenario. John was holding Dean against the wall – Dean was in a bad way, covered in blood from his chest and his mouth, and Sam was pinned to the opposite wall, struggling against the invisible restraints. It took Bobby’s shocked mind a minute to catch up.
“Bobby... it’s him.... it’s the demon!” Sam shouted, just as John turned to face Bobby, his eyes glowing yellow. He released Dean, who crumpled to the floor, barely conscious. Bobby wanted to run to him, but he saw the Colt lying on the table and picked it up before the demon could react.
“Nice move, old man,” the demon sneered. “You gonna kill me, kill your boys’ real Daddy? Betcha wanted to do this a lot of times over the past years. Betcha can’t wait to be their only one and only Daddy. Betcha can’t wait to do it now – but will your boys forgive you?”
“Shut your mouth,” Bobby growled.
“Not to worry though, Sammy clearly hates Daddy dearest, and Dean...well, Dean’s not gonna be around to miss him, so shoot away.”
“Bobby...no...” Dean begged, and Bobby may have given in, except that John flicked his wrist at that moment, lifting Dean’s battered body up off the floor, then slamming it down. Dean fell heavily and was no longer conscious – Bobby prayed he was still alive.
Bobby aimed for John’s shoulder, hoping to get the demon and not kill John. The shot rang out and John fell to the floor. Black smoke billowed out of his mouth as he screamed, but it swirled around the room, unable to escape from the warding etched into the cabin’s timbers many years ago by a cautious hunter.
Bobby started to recite the incantation to send the demon back to hell, when John screamed.
“Kill it, Sammy, kill it.”
Sam was on his feet, grabbing John’s journal and flipping it open, then started to recite an incantation Bobby had never heard. The demon’s essence writhed and shook like it was in pain; it screamed and wailed, then burst into a million tiny pieces before vanishing.
“Fuck me, it worked!” John muttered, already crawling across the floor towards Dean’s too-still body. “Dean, hey, Dean!”
Sam was by Dean’s side in seconds, checking his pulse, “He’s still alive, but he’s losing so much blood. Bobby, please...” Bobby was touched by Sam’s faith in him.
“Lemme see, son,” he said, kneeling by his oldest boy’s body.
“You gotta save him, Bobby. I could see it, feel it, hear it all...” John was crying – Bobby had never seen the man cry before.
“Sam, see to your Dad’s wound, I gotta work on Dean. There ain’t any reception out here, we’ll have to patch them up and get ‘em to the nearest hospital.”
Sam looked reluctant to leave Dean, but Bobby coaxed him. “I got this. An’ Dean’ll kill you if you let your Daddy bleed to death.”
Sam gave a startled, shaky laugh. “That’s so inappropriate, Bobby.”
“Yeah, sue me, college boy,” Bobby was already assessing Dean, but he couldn’t see an obvious external injury, just five gouge marks on his chest. He guessed it was mainly internal. “Crap, crap, crap,” he muttered.
“Bobby?” Sam sounded worried.
“I can’t see where all the blood’s coming from,” Bobby explained.
“He was kinda reaching inside his chest, pulling the blood out through his skin...” John informed them.
“Balls,” Bobby cussed, wrapping Dean’s chest as tightly as he could with bandages from the – luckily well stocked - first aid kit he’d grabbed from the shelf. “That fucking son-of-a-bitch. C’mon, we got no time to lose.”
They got John to his feet and out to the truck, then carried Dean out to the Impala, laying him gently on the back seat.
“You gonna be okay to drive, Sammy?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, wiping his tear-streaked face with his hands and squaring his shoulders. “I’m good. Gotta get him safe.”
The nearest hospital was a forty-five minute drive and Bobby was tempted more than once to pull over and dump John’s fretting, whinging ass on the roadside. The man was hardly making a lick of sense, but then he said something that made Bobby’s blood freeze.
“Sammy’s safe now, whatever that yellow-eyed bastard had planned for him, it’s over...”
“What d’you mean?”
“Azazel, he was plannin’ on using Sam or one of his other psychic kids to open the Devil’s Gate...”
“John, what the fuck? Can you start from the beginning here?”
John sighed. “I trapped a demon a while back, who told me a little bit about Azazel’s – that’s yellow eyes name – plan to raise an army and bring back Lucifer...”
“Lucifer? As in...”
“Yep, the real deal. Satan, the devil, old Nick. You know about the nursery fires?”
“Yeah...” Bobby admitted. “Ash found connections between some kids that had gone psycho, and their mom’s all died in nursery fires when they were six months old.”
“Does he know?” John asked, anxiously. Bobby knew who he meant.
“No, Sam doesn’t know. I didn’t know what it meant myself. And all he’s had so far have been dreams an’ premonitions. I ain’t told Dean, didn’t wanna freak either of ‘em out.”
“Good, that’s good. He doesn’t need to know.” John ran his fingers through his hair. “When Azazel was inside me, he was goading me, telling me how much he’d enjoyed killing Mary, killing all the other mothers. And...and how he’d bled into Sam’s mouth, into all the babies’ mouths, giving them some of his power.”
“Holy fuck...that’s why Sammy’s had those dreams?”
“Yeah. Could’ve been worse, as you know.”
“I just hope his powers have died with him.”
“Me too...” John shifted and tried to hold in a pained moan.
“We’re nearly there,” Bobby glanced at John, who was looking very pale. They’d entered the outskirts of Jefferson, thankfully.
Once they got to the hospital, it was a whirlwind of nurses, doctors, and so many questions, about what had happened, how Dean had been so badly injured. All Bobby could do was tell them the story he’d concocted, that Dean had been attacked by a bear, and when Bobby had shot at the bear, John had got injured in the crossfire.
Dean was whisked off to ICU, his heart and lungs were damaged and he needed a blood transfusion. The doctors were stumped, they’d never seen anything like it and said it was like something had reached in and sucked the blood from Dean’s major organs. It wasn’t looking good for Dean.
Bobby, John and Sam tried to come up with a way of saving him and the only thing Bobby could think of was making a crossroads deal, trading his life for Dean’s. And he was more’n happy to do so.
He didn’t tell either Winchester of his plan, he told them he was going to get some air.
At the nearest crossroads, Bobby hastily buried his photo and waited few minutes. A short guy in a suit appeared.
“Bobby Singer, well, as I live and breathe. Or not,” The demon grinned. “This is an unexpected pleasure. I don’t usually carry out these deals myself, but when I heard it was you...well, I had to seal this deal personally.”
“Balls, does this mean I gotta kiss your ugly mug?”
“Afraid so, sweetie. That is, if you wanna save poor Dean’s life?”
“Wouldn’t be here for no other reason. Can you do it?”
“Can I do it?” The demon looked offended. “I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Crowley, King of the Crossroads. And I can do any-bloody-thing I like.”
“Very impressive, King Crowley,” Bobby growled, then thought he’d better stay on the oily git’s good side. “So, how does this work? We kiss and I get ten years?”
“Ten years? You are joking. You’re a hunter, a major pain in the ass. And sweet baby Dean is also a fucking hunter. Why would I want to do either of you any favors?”
“You’re the crossroads demon, you have to make a deal.”
“True, but there’s no way you’re getting ten years, grandpa.”
“Okay, five years.”
“No way, Jose.”
“Tell me what you’ll give me, oh King,” Bobby drawled sarcastically.
“You get to say your goodbyes. Dean has a miraculous recovery. Then you die.”
“No way. My boys need me,” Bobby protested.
“Your boys? Last time I checked, you’re just the poor sap they were dumped on.”
“Listen here, Mr. Fancy Pants. I adopted those two boys, and they grew up great, they grew up heroes. I was there for them, through it all - their childhood illnesses, their teen tantrums, their first dates…”
“Okay, okay, enough with the sob story.” Crowley sighed. “One year, you can have one year. It will give you time to put your house in order, so to speak. And I hated that smug git Azazel. But there’s one extra proviso.”
“Yeah?” Bobby asked cautiously.
“Excuse me,” a gruff voice spoke from behind Crowley, and Bobby was surprised to see a messy-haired trench-coat wearing guy standing there.
“Who the fuck are you?” Crowley asked, turning to face the man.
“I think you know,” the stranger said. “And you know there will be no deals, no provisos.”
“Oh bloody hell.” Crowley’s face paled, then he disappeared.
“Hold yer horses, buddy, I needed that deal,” Bobby grumbled.
“No, you do not. Your actions earlier today were...unexpected, Robert Singer. You have saved Dean Winchester from his fate, along with that of his brother.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bobby asked the guy. “How’d you know my name?”
“My name is Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord.”
Bobby would’ve laughed in the guy’s face, but something about the sincerity of his blue eyes and the way he held himself, like he wasn’t used to being in a human body, made Bobby believe him. “Well, I ain’t met an angel before, I’d be more pleased but that deal was Dean’s last hope…”
“Dean is alive and well,” Castiel informed him.
“What? How...when…”
“I have healed him. He is tired and will need to rest for a few days.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“You will not believe this until you see Dean,” Castiel tilted his head to one side to regard Bobby for a moment. “Very well.” He reached out and touched Bobby’s forehead; suddenly the world spun worse than the Tilt-a-Whirl Bobby had been on once at a carnival. But it was over in seconds and he was back in the hospital, in a waiting room with a startled John and Sam.
Bobby swallowed down the feeling of nausea that riding the angel Tilt-a-Whirl had given him to focus on Sam, who looked pale but was grinning. “Hey, boy,” he managed to say before Sam threw himself into his arms. “Whoa, you tryin’ to knock me over?” Bobby grumbled, but hugged Sam tight.
Sam huffed out a laugh as he released Bobby. “Sorry, but it’s Dean...they’re calling it a miracle; they’ve made us come out while they check him over. He’s awake, Bobby, he’s awake…”
Sam was crying now, and Bobby felt his own eyes sting. “Thank God...thank you, Castiel,” Bobby turned around to thank the angel, but he wasn’t there.
“Who’s Castiel?” John asked.
“He’s…” Bobby paused, unsure what to tell them.
Just then a doctor came in, smiling and bemused. “Well, you’ll all be pleased to know that Dean is fine.” He scratched his head. “He’s completely healthy, we don’t understand it. He had lost so much blood...perhaps our initial findings were incorrect...yes, that must be it.”
“Don’t worry too much, doc.” Bobby patted the guy’s shoulder. “We’re just pleased he’s okay.”
“Yeah, can we see him?” Sam asked eagerly.
“I’d like to see you try an’ stop him,” John added, smiling at Sam.
Dean was sitting up in bed, looking exhausted, but he smiled at them as they came in.
“Hey, it’s the Three Stooges,” he remarked.
“Dean, wow, I thought...I thought we’d lost you,” Sam whispered, like he was afraid to speak and break the spell.
“Nah, it’ll take more than some yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch to kill me,” Dean quipped, but Bobby could tell he was putting on a brave face. “C’mere, sasquatch.”
Sam managed to cram his large frame onto the bed next to Dean and wrap his arm around him, smiling so wide his face was basically teeth and dimples. John held back, leaning heavily on his crutches.
“Dad, fuck, your leg...shouldn’t you be in bed?” Dean asked.
“I’m good, but I’ll sit if that’s okay.” John looked sheepish.
“Why wouldn’t it be...oh,” Dean frowned, “look, it wasn’t you, okay?”
Bobby felt immensely proud of Dean right then and wiped the hot tears that had sprung to his eyes. Dean noticed, of course.
“Hey, Bobby, thank you,” Dean held out a hand to him and Bobby took it. “Wow, you... you saved me, and you killed the demon. You’re a goddamned hero…” Dean peered at Bobby. “No… fuck, Bobby what did you do?”
“What d’you mean?”
“If it wasn’t you...one of you did it, didn’t you? One of you made a fucking deal to save me, and you shouldn’t have, you…” Dean stopped mid-rant, his green eyes impossibly wide. “Castiel…”
Bobby turned to see the angel standing behind him.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said in his solemn manner.
“Who’s this guy? How’d he get in?”
“It’s okay, Dad. I think he healed me. I remember choking on my own blood, an’ real intense pain...then nothing, until I saw ol’ blue eyes here smiling down at me.”
“This is Castiel, he’s an angel,” Bobby explained, still barely able to believe it.
“I have been watching over Dean since before he was born,” Castiel looked at John, “and I was meant to save him, just not yet. Bobby did something we did not expect, and saved you all from your destinies.”
“Bobby, is this true?” Dean asked.
“I just did what I had to, to save you boys.” Bobby shrugged, embarrassed.
“I must go now, but Bobby, you were right in what you said to Crowley, these boys have grown up great, they have grown up heroes, thanks to you.”
Castiel turned to John and touched his forehead lightly. “You are a hero too, John Winchester. You have saved many people and will continue to do so, but you need to be fit.”
John blinked his eyes and ran his hand over his leg. “Holy shit…”
“I do not know what the future has in store for you, Dean, but I will continue to watch over you, and I will be there should you need me again,” Castiel said, then was gone before they could react. Dean started to cry; Bobby knew it was the shock of all that had happened to him in such a short space of time. Sam pulled him into a hug and Bobby motioned for John to follow him out of the room.
“Let’s leave them get some rest,” Bobby whispered, “heaven knows they need it.”
They walked in silence to the hospital cafe, both lost in thought. Over bitter coffee, John broke the silence.
“So, Crowley, eh?” he raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, King of the Crossroads. I tried to summon him once, heard he might have his grubby little hands on the Colt,” John rubbed his chin. “You were gonna make a deal.”
“Damn straight,” Bobby nodded. “An’ I’d have gone ahead with it, if I had to.”
“I know we ain’t always seen eye to eye, Bobby, but I gotta say thanks, for every-fucking-thing. You’ve raised my boys, you’ve saved their lives. I dunno how I can ever repay you.”
“I don’t want anything from you, John, except for you to remember you have two amazin’ sons, and to get to know ‘em, spend time with ‘em.”
“I can do that,” John smiled, “I guess now the demon’s dead, I got some time on my hands.”
“You gonna carry on huntin’?”
“Yeah, not much else I’m cut out for anymore. An’ as the angel said, I can do some good, save some people.”
Within the year, Dean had gone back to the Sioux Falls police department, and soon made friends with Deputy Sheriff Jody Mills. Sam returned to Stanford, but not to study law. He decided to study history and anthropology, with occult studies as a specialism; his research was already proving invaluable to many hunters. Both boys helped Bobby - and John - out on hunts whenever they could.
Bobby was so proud of his boys, his heroes.
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