(no subject)

[gavemea_45]

He doesn't care what the doctor says. Dean's sleeping right now, that's all.

And before he wakes up, there's something that Sam wants to have taken care of first.

He finds a quiet corner of the waiting area and makes sure no one's around before he dials the number.

Comments

[salver]

Coffee's got that lemony aftertaste to it. Bobby wrinkles his nose, but drinks it anyway: don't waste anything. He puts the mug (MERRY CHRISTMAS TO SOMEONE OUTSTANDING IN THE FIELD, featuring a pissed-off-looking cow standing in snow) down on his desk, passes his hand over his eyes, and looks at the mess of his living room.

Better than it was. Blood stains are off the floor, at least. Give it another week, and he'll start making some calls, pulling some strings, to see if the girl's family's come forward to ID the body yet. Basic followup.

Something the Winchester boys ought to know about. No news on that end, he'd like to think, is good news; he doesn't know whether it is, or whether it isn't. Bring him around, he'd told them, and he'd like to think they'd do it, if all was well.

"Shit," Bobby mutters as he reaches for his hat (frayed brim) and jacket (leaking down feathers from two or three pinholes), meaning to go out and get yesterday's paper (and stop in the back shed to feed Rumsfeld, only to remember on the way in that that's not necessary any more), and that's when his cell phone starts going.

Area code 650. Not familiar -- at least not this early. Bobby flips it open. "Yeah."

[gavemea_45]

"Bobby?"

Sam's voice is strained.

[salver]

Cell reception's not always the best out here, but it's good enough on this particular call that --

"Sam?" A call like this is better than coffee. Bobby turns away from the door and heads back toward his desk: writing materials are there. "Is that you?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah." He swallows, turning toward the wall and away from the rest of the room.

"Yeah, it's me."

A beat.

"I need a favor."

[salver]

"Sure, you got it." It's habit to have a pen in hand by now. He's standing over the desk, over a blank piece of paper, phone pressed to his ear with his other hand. "You find John, Sam?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, we found him. He's-- he's gonna be okay."



"There was, um. There was an accident, kinda, though."

It wasn't an accident, of course, and Sam hopes that Bobby can read it in his voice, 'cause there's no way he can explain it openly. Not here.

"Dean-- his car is pretty messed up. It's gonna need to be towed."

[salver]

Slowly, Bobby straightens; the pen falls to the desk.



Low: "Sam -- "

[gavemea_45]

"--it's at a yard off I-83," he interrupts. "I've got the name around here somewhere, the cops wrote it down on a slip of paper."

His breathing is a little ragged, and he can't help that, but he does his best to keep the sound of his words even.



"I'm-- we're at Shiloh County Hospital."

[salver]

That's -- if he's got it right, if it's the right 83, that's halfway across the damn state, in the wrong direction. Or maybe -- no, there's hospitals closer than that, it's got to be 83rd Street, down south of town.

"Shit," he mutters again. Louder: "Sam -- I can go get it, but it can wait, if -- you need backup?"

Backup. That's one word for it.

The goddamn hospital.

[gavemea_45]

"I think it's okay -- Dad's awake, the doctor said."

It's not as disjointed as it sounds.

"... it probably shouldn't wait long, given... you know. Things."

Things that it'd be a bad idea for anyone to find.

"If you want to swing by first, though--"

[salver]

"Yeah, sit tight -- " Keys for the truck out of the cookie jar, and Bobby doesn't stop to put the lid back on. Just keeps heading for the door. "Can I get you at this number?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah."

A beat.

"About how long will you be, any idea?"

[salver]

"If you don't hear from me in half an hour, give me a call. I'll be there in forty-five, maybe a little less, and I'll call in when I get close."

Front door's locked; he climbs in the truck, closes the door, starts the ignition. "On my way as of now."

[gavemea_45]

"See you then."

Sam ends the call and shoves his phone in his pocket before heading up the hallway to his dad's room.



Thirty minutes later, he's sprawled uncomfortably in a chair in the waiting area, frowning at a sheet of paper.

[salver]

Right on time comes the phone call.

"Ten minutes," Bobby tells him, "right out front." He's not going to ask about coming in; if Sam can't talk in the hospital, then whatever it is Bobby can do beyond the car -- he's not going to get it from Sam in there.

Nine and a half minutes later, Bobby's truck pulls to a stop in front of the main entrance.

[gavemea_45]

Sam's already outside, leaning against the wall with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

He straightens up and heads over.

"Hey."

[salver]

Sam looks like shit.

Don't say anything about that. Not yet.. Bobby shifts the truck into park. "You coming along for the ride, or you need to..."

A glance inside the doors.

[gavemea_45]

"Figured I would, yeah, if that's all right?"

Sam looks over his shoulder, then turns back to Bobby with a quick shake of his head.

"Dad'll be fine without me. Dean..."



"-- he's not gonna know I'm gone for a little bit."

[salver]

And given that he hasn't mentioned Dean elsewise --

"All right," is Bobby's only comment, beyond leaning over and tweaking the lock on the passenger side door.

That, and: "Which yard's it again?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam tells him.


Once they're on the way and there's no chance of being overheard, he goes on to tell him the rest of it, as well.

[salver]

By the time he pulls off 229, the story's over, and for another mile or so it's nothing but the wind coming through that crack in the window, and the engine, and the sound of the tires against the road.

A little abruptly, eyes on the road: "I can get it back to my place." Sam's the Winchester on his feet; Sam's turn to call the shots. "Keep it there long as you want. Is there anybody else who needs to know any of this?"

After a while you learn that you can go crazy, thinking about it all, about the could have beens and the should have beens and the if the timing was a little different. You focus on what you can do, and you let go of what you can't. Bobby's pretty damn sure he's their only contact near town; he asks anyway, because that's what you do. Sam's got other things to worry about.

[gavemea_45]

"No."

That's quick. Really quick. Sam's not looking at him.

It's too easy for him still to hear John's voice-- and the demon's words. "They got in the way of my plans for you, Sammy. You, and all the children like you."

"No one else needs to know."

A beat.

"Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate this."

[salver]

"Yeah, well." Awkward.

A right onto 83rd Street.

"Not all that much. Just -- "

A slow left into the yard.

" -- no reason you can't put the less important stuff off on somebody else just now." He stops the truck; this last is said as he climbs out and closes the door. "That's all."

[gavemea_45]

Sam shrugs, looking uncomfortable, and gets out of the truck.

He glances around as he says,

"I could see if there's someone in an office, somewhere-- find out where they towed it--"

[salver]

"Yeah." This is where Bobby can cut through, be calm. "You just let 'em know we're here to get it. Shouldn't get any questions."

As long as the plates on it are registered to a Winchester, anyhow. And if John's down, and Dean's down --

Car's not likely to be in the best shape, anyhow.

[gavemea_45]

"Okay. Be right back." Having spotted a building that looks at least sorta official, he's already headed that way.



It's only a couple of minutes before Sam walks back across the lot, shoving the much-folded paperwork into a pocket as he does.

"The guy said it's over that way."

[salver]

What he'd prepared himself for --






Well. It's not as bad as he'd expected. Still kind of looks like a car. If you squint.

And if you have a lot of imagination.

Bobby doesn't say a word, just pops the hood. Or tries.

[gavemea_45]

"Oh man."

Sam lets out his breath in a sigh as he comes up beside Bobby, staring at the Impala.

"... Dean is gonna be pissed."

[salver]

"Sam -- "

Shaking his head, he lets the hood slam back down. It comes off in the process. "This just ain't worth the tow." He glances up at Sam. "I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap."

[gavemea_45]

He's moved past the other man to the side of the car. Sam runs his fingers over the bent frame of the passenger door, then reaches into the back seat for his laptop.

What's left of it, anyway.

"No." He looks up from the car. "Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better, he's gonna want to fix this."

[salver]

Now's not exactly the time for pop psychology.

So point out the obvious. "There's nothing to fix." Bobby circles what used to be -- he'll admit it, and gladly -- one hell of a car. "The frame's a pretzel, the engine's ruined... barely any parts worth salvaging."

[gavemea_45]

"Listen to me, Bobby."

Sam sets the laptop on the roof of the car with deliberate precision and looks levelly at him.

"If there's only one working part? That's enough. We're not just gonna give up on ... "

Dean, he thinks, and as he does Sam has to look away.

[salver]

Dean, Bobby thinks. Jesus Christ.

"Okay." No fight in it. "You got it."

[gavemea_45]

He nods, still staring at the ground so that Bobby won't see him blinking. Sam takes a moment, then clears his throat and looks up again.

"Here, uh--"

He digs in his pocket, coming up with a piece of paper, which he then holds out over the Impala's roof toward Bobby.

"--Dad asked if you could get this stuff for him."

[salver]

It doesn't take more than a cursory glance at the list for Bobby's eyebrows to rise. "What's John want with this?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam shrugs.

"Protection from the demon."

[salver]

-- he's kidding, right?

But no, Sam's not in what you might call a joking mood, and that means if John wants it --

Bobby drops his gaze. What the hell's he up to?

[gavemea_45]

There's something about the way Bobby's looking at the paper that causes a prickle of wariness.

"... what?"

[salver]

"Nothin'." He shakes his head. "It's just -- "

[gavemea_45]

"Bobby."

He's got Sam's full attention now.

"What's going on?"

[salver]

John can't have made that list without knowing that he'd know what it was for. No way in hell.

And John isn't here.

God knows you boys need to study up, Bobby thinks, a little wearily.

"What's on that list -- you don't ward off demons with it. Kind of -- "

Beat. "The opposite."

[gavemea_45]

Sam stares at him.

"The..."

It doesn't take any longer than that.

Even as it clicks, there's a deeply cynical, bitter part of himself that's thinking, You should have known, you should have guessed --

Everything about his expression shuts down.

(Sam has no idea how much like John it makes him look.)

[salver]

Bobby's steady look is a mix of sympathy and exasperation.

(On a deep, profound, and fundamental level, Bobby Singer does not understand John Winchester or his sons, and he's pretty damn sure that -- on that level -- he doesn't want to.)

"You still want it?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah."

No hesitation.

"I do."

[salver]

"All right." He fishes the keys out of his pocket. "I'll go bring the truck around. And then after..."

Bobby nods to the piece of paper. "We'll take care of that next."