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May Robinson [userpic]

Fic: Family, Faith & Certitude (ch 6 of 7)

November 17th, 2007 (11:13 am)
where i am: still home
how i am: creative
accompanied by: Shannon Noll, Now I Run

Summary: Bobby POV. Dean gets whomped, Sammy gets protective, John gets bad-ass and Bobby gets a shot at setting something right. Hurt/comfort, angst in spades. Chapter 6 of 7 in total.
Rating: PG13, T (harsh language)
Wordcount: approx. 12,000
Pairing/Characters: Genfic, no pairings. Bobby Singer, Dean, Sam & John Winchester
Spoilers: Minor, none beyond 2.22
Disclaimers: See my profile page
A/N: See Chapter 1 for author's notes   
Family, Faith & Certitude
by May Robinson
"Hey, Bobby." Sam stretched those long, muscular arms over his head as he made his way over to the couch. Watching him now, it was hard for Bobby to reconcile this image of the youngest Winchester with that of the gangly klutz he and Dean had been fondly reminiscing about before Bobby had let Dean succumb to the sleep he'd been craving.
"Hey, Sam." Scrutinizing the kid's drawn features, Bobby asked, "You get any shut-eye?" He'd been expecting Sam's arrival, had heard the boy's watch alarm go off just minutes before. In the quiet of the middle of the night, even that light tinny sound could make itself known to Bobby's ears. Especially when Dean's soft breaths had been the only thing he'd been listening to for a while now.
"Yeah, thanks, I did," Sam answered, not looking at Bobby. Bobby didn't take the inattention personally, the boy's focus had been on his sleeping brother since the moment he'd stepped into the living-room. Finally, hazel eyes still swollen from sleep, and no doubt the last few days' worth of emotions, met Bobby's. The kid looked a bit subdued, but then laughed lightly, sounding a little embarrassed. For what, Bobby had no idea. "Didn't think I'd be able to." He shrugged those broad shoulders then. "After everything that happened. You know?"
"I hear you, kid." Bobby didn't think sleep would be claiming him anytime soon either, despite his own exhaustion and the fact Sam was there now to take over the watch. Bobby was glad for the boy's respite though, hoped like hell it had been nightmare free. He hadn't heard anything telling him otherwise, so he hoped what little sleep Sam did get had been restful. God knew the dark smudges of shadow under his eyes weren't much of a gauge, not with everything they'd all been through.
Hell, Bobby hadn't looked in a mirror lately either but figured he looked like shit too.
Sam shucked some magazines and a newspaper off of another chair, slid it across the floor next to Bobby. Moved it a little closer to Dean though, still watching his brother the whole time. Bobby didn't miss the kid's wince though, when he'd settled himself into it. Wondered how touchy a subject it was now, knowing the cat was out of the bag. "Your back okay?" His concern genuine.
Sam looked a little uneasy, shrugged again but then his hands found his back and Bobby watched him stretch out the kinks. "Yeah, not too bad," he answered. "Can't complain," he added almost apologetically.
"Glad to hear it, Sam," Bobby said. "Awful glad." Meant it, and clapped the kid on the shoulder for added emphasis.
"Thanks, Bobby." Clearing his throat, obviously still a little uncomfortable with the subject, Sam leaned in close to Dean. His brow furrowed as he took in the swelling and bruising surrounding this latest batch of sutures, their handiwork courtesy of Ellen's practiced hands. Lifting one of his own, Sam let his fingers hover just above Dean's face for a moment, before gravity, or likely the more powerful pull of brotherly concern, took control. Dropping the back of his hand lightly to meet the smooth skin next to Ellen's stitches, he softly asked, "So. . . has he been sleeping long? How's he doing?"
"He'd be doing perfectly fine if someone would keep their giant paws off him and let him get some fucking sleep." Barely awake, the sarcasm could still roll off Dean's tongue. Slapping at Sam's hand, Dean drew his own to his eyes, rubbing away the remnants of his brief encounter with oblivion.
Sam snapped his hand back, dodging the bulk of Dean's swing, pulling it away as though he'd get burned. Or, more likely, knew from experience what to expect from a waking Dean. Bobby couldn't help but grin at the brotherly display, brief as it was, but wisely ran a hand through his beard and moustache to cover it. Still earned him a green-eyed glare.
"What are you laughing at? You've been worse than he is." Apparently Dean's concussion hadn't affected his peripheral vision. Or his ability to bitch and moan. "Can't a guy get some sleep?"
"Sure," Sam said, all too agreeably. Gave Bobby a cheeky grin. "You can have all the sleep you want. . . in two hour increments."
"Oh, come on, Sam. That's just cruel." If Dean wasn't careful, the scowl he was wearing was going to pop a stitch or two. "Hell, every time I get closer to getting it on with Pam and the twins, one of you two assholes comes along and wakes me up."
Bobby gave a shudder, then shook his head disapprovingly. He preferred his women all natural, thank-you very much. Dean pitched him a 'what the hell's wrong with you' glare, though and Bobby held his tongue.
Sam didn't, let out a long suffering sigh and then moved in for what Bobby assumed would be the kill. Wasn't wrong. "We can always make that trip to the hospital I shouldn't have let you talk me out of in the first place."
Bobby's eyes darted quickly to Sam, the waver of concern catching his attention. Dean's too apparently, seeing as the next thing he said came out all sincerity soft and big-brotherly patient. "Jesus, Sammy, I'm fine." He reached out slightly and gave his brother's leg a slight shove, leaving his hand to rest on it. "I don't need the hospital, don't even need to play twenty questions, all right?" He turned imploring eyes on Bobby, clearly looking for backup. "Tell him, Bobby."
And Bobby decided to give Dean a break. Despite the kid's bluster and objections to Sam's fussing, Bobby knew Dean was right. He was going to be perfectly fine and all he was suffering from right then was one mother of a headache along with complete and utter exhaustion. In fact, Bobby'd bet that, if they quit badgering him, Dean would be back to sleep within seconds. "Leave him be, Sam. No need to fret." Dean mouthed the word 'thank-you' which immediately changed to 'no, fuck you' when Bobby added, "He's all there, kid, or about as much as he's ever been."
Turning to Dean and giving him another visual once over, Sam asked, "I don't know. . . He was out cold for a while."
"Only a minute or two, kid. And he's lucid. Trust me."
"You really think so?"
Dean raised a hand up between them, waved it around a bit. Sam batted it away like a mosquito.
Ignoring Dean too, Bobby explained. "Sure thing, kid. Dean and me've been reminiscing and, aside from some minor problems he's havin' with arithmetic, he's all there." Bobby chuckled to himself, happy with his inside joke.
Dean, not nearly as much. "It was one punch, Bobby. One." Confused, Sam looked concerned all of a sudden but Bobby shook his head, waved him off casually, which seemed to satisfy. Dean wasn't quite done though. "What is with you guys pickin' on the invalid here? I get more respect from a poltergeist."
Sam jumped on that like Rumsfeld on a raw steak. "Invalid? Oh, so now you're willing to admit you're hurt!"
"Jesus, Sam, I'm fine. Would you let it go already?"
As much as Bobby was enjoying the familiarity of the harmless bickering going on between John's boys, he could tell that Dean was really wearing down. Decided he'd better run interference. "He's fine, Sam. Leave it be."
Sam clamped his jaw shut on whatever else he was going to say, scanning his brother critically one more time before giving in and slumping back against the chair. "Fine," he said, a little defensively. Irritation quickly transformed though, his face splitting into a grin that reminded Bobby so much of John's, the rare times he saw it, he could've cried. Except for the laughter that bubbled out of his throat instead at Sam's next words. "Just don't blame me when your dream turns into a nightmare because Pam's figured out you don't measure up to Tommy Lee."
Dean didn't say a thing. Didn't have to. Just closed his eyes and melted back into the couch, folding his arms across his chest. . . one middle finger extended and a warm, hell, Bobby might've even said proud, smile curving his lips.


Posted by: hucknclem (hucknclem)
Posted at: November 17th, 2007 06:41 pm (UTC)

This is just making me all happy, warm, and cozy - I love Sam and Bobby keeping watch. :)

Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 17th, 2007 07:22 pm (UTC)

Awww, me too. I just miss John so much but Sam and Bobby watching over Dean still gives me warm fuzzies. After all the angst of the last chapter, they needed a little rest and even some levity.

Posted by: alleysweeper (alleysweeper)
Posted at: November 28th, 2007 09:40 am (UTC)

Poor Dean! He's never going to get any sleep.


Posted by: May Robinson (may7fic)
Posted at: November 28th, 2007 11:59 pm (UTC)
Burgundy Dean

LOL, I know. And I've given him a concussion twice now, big ole meany that I am *g*.