Hello Yesterday 8/?

[emebalia]

Chapter 8

"Nice to meet you, sir." Sam said and Bobby stopped cold. For a second he looked at the offered hand as if it was a cold fish before he reluctantly took it for a firm handshake.

"Screw this." The man muttered and drew Sam into a hug with his free arm, still holding on to his hand.


Sam uffed at the sudden embrace but didn't pull back. At first it was awkward, he didn't know the man hugging him, but then he took a breath and smelled the mixture of whiskey and Old Spice coming from him. It didn't trigger any memories, no luck there, but Sam felt himself relax a bit and answered the gesture by bringing up his own arm and hugging the man back.
They parted quickly and then stood a foot apart, without knowing what to do or say next.

"You want to stand out there all night?" Dean called from the door, taking pity on them. "Hope you have dinner ready, Bobby. I'm starving."

"You're always starving." Bobby yelled back without losing focus on Sam. A fond smile played around the older man's mouth and Sam couldn't help but join in.

"So it's true?" The smile died but his eyes kept their warmth when he looked at Sam. "You don't remember anything?"

"Sorry." Sam shrugged. He shifted from one foot to the other, painfully aware of the fact that this man stood between him and Dean and for some reason he didn't like that. Dean was the only person he knew and he trusted him, having him out of his reach felt just wrong.

As if he was sensing Sam's discomfort Dean came over, casually as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, and nudged Sam in the shoulder.

"Get inside, I'll get our stuff."

Sam nodded and followed Bobby inside. Dean was not far behind him and with that everything became easier. So far Bobby seemed to be a nice guy, not that he could tell much after the minute he knew him, and Sam was willing to give this a try. According to Dean, this place was the closest thing they had to a home, aside from the car, and this man - Bobby - was almost like a father to them. If something was able to trigger his memory, it was this place and these people. Dean and Bobby, the only family he had left.

Inside the house Sam had a curious glance around while he followed the older man to the kitchen. The house was old and a bit dusty, it felt worn and lived in.

"You read a lot?" Sam asked when they passed a room that seemed to be the study. It was filled with books, stuffed shelves and piles of books on the floor and on every more or less vertical surface.

Bobby gave him a glance over his shoulder which Sam couldn't quite place.

"Everybody needs a hobby.” He answered vaguely and then he looked past Sam to lock eyes with Dean, Sam assumed. He got the feeling that he man was silently asking Dean something but before he could ask, Dean dropped their bags with a loud thud right next to the door.

"You don't intend to keep them there, right?" Bobby asked sternly and Dean hurried to pick them back up.

"Those are heavy and I ain't getting younger." He protested weakly but sprinted up the stairs when Bobby just kept glaring at him.

"You usually take the guest room." Bobby explained with a nod up the stairs where Sam could see Dean disappearing on one room to the left. "That's basically your room since you were kids." He paused as if he waited for Sam to fill in something but he could only shrug.

"Maybe when I see the room." He said just to fill the silence. He doubted it, though. So far the car had triggered the only memory he had and he'd spent more time of his life in there than here.

"Sit down, dinner's ready in five." Bobby offered him a chair and turned to the stove.

While Bobby stired the stew or whatever was cooking in the pot, Sam couldn't help but study the man in front of him. There was nothing familiar about him but at least Sam felt welcomed.

They didn't speak but Bobby kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I don't know how much Dean told you.” Sam said. “About my …” He gestured towards his own head.

"Only that you had it bad enough for a stay in the hospital." Bobby turned around, now openly taking him in. "That you have amnesia. He was pretty freaked out."

"I wasn't freaked out." Dean came into the kitchen, something close to embarrassment on his face. "He gets hit over the head, is totally out of it but the docs say it's all good. So I wrestle him out of the hospital and half-way to the next state he asks me who I am. How do you expect me to react?"

“You almost wrecked the car.” Sam helped out.

“I did not almost wreck my car.” Dean pointed his finger first at Sam and then at Bobby but neither of them took him serious.

Bobby gave Sam a grin and turned back to stirring the pot. It smelled delicious and now Sam's stomach grumbled in anticipation but his attention was on the two men in front of him. How easy and comfortable they interacted with each other.

Sam couldn't say much about himself and Bobby but it was obvious that Dean and Bobby knew each other for a long time.

Dean flopped down in the chair next to Sam and their eyes met for a moment. Silently Dean was asking him if he was okay and Sam could only nod with a little smile. This house and this man still didn't feel like home but he was good for now.

They ate and it was mostly Dean who filled the silence, talking about the odd questions Sam was asking now and all the stuff he had forgotten.

“Hey, I'm the guy with the amnesia. Shouldn't you be a bit more tactful?”

"No, this is hilarious." Dean said and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "And he's up to date with the hunting." He told Bobby. "No need for hiding anything."

Sam wondered what could probably be covered by anything but Bobby beat him to that.

"You told him?" He hissed as if Sam wasn't sitting right next to him.

"Had to." Dean made a helpless gesture. "We sneaked out of the first hospital and used fake names for the second one. And then he was asking how he got injured. Questions were piling up. You know Sammy here." He nudged Sam comradely in the shoulder. "He needs answers and I couldn't risk him running away because he thought I was hiding something from him."

"And you just believed him?" Bobby asked.

"It made sense." Sam wasn't sure how he could explain why he believed Dean, why he trusted him. He just did. “You're also a hunter?”

“Bobby is more the go to guy when something you haven't seen before is chewing on your ass.” Dean explains. “He's getting old.”

“Watch it boy.” Bobby growled but without heat behind the words.

"So, your books. I'm guessing that's not only a hobby."

"They're for research." Bobby confirmed. "Knowledge is everything in this business. Feel free to have a look around, you love skimming through my stuff."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sam." Bobby almost groaned and Dean snickered. "Skip the sir, I'm not your dad. Just call me Bobby."

Sam hadn't even noticed that he'd said that word, it came like a natural response to him, like he'd used it often in his life. But probably not to address Bobby.

"So dad was the sir kind of guy?" He guessed.

"Yeah, but you were never good at following that rule." Dean told him with a fond smile. Sam didn't know if he was thinking about their dad or Sam but the memories seemed to be good ones. Which reminded him of the fact that he didn't have memories whatsoever of their father or Bobby or anything else. The only thing he did remember was Dean in a coma and that wasn't exactly a fond memory.

After dinner they settled over to the study with a beer but when Sam followed the others, he stopped dead in this tracks two steps into the room.

Looking around he searched for the reason for the uneasy feeling in his stomach but he couldn't find anything. The room was stuffed with books and old furniture, some covered with a layer of dust, and there was nothing catching his eye that he found threatening or scary. But he couldn't bring himself to follow the others over to the couch.

"Sam?" Dean had noticed his hesitation. "You coming or what?"

"I ..." Sam licked his lips and then straightened up to just walk across the room. How hard could it be? Then something on the ceiling caught his eye. "What ...?"

"That's ..." Bobby started to explain but Sam interrupted him, he knew what this was.

"The Key of Salomon." He said, taking in the complex symbol. Aside from the name he had no idea what it was used for, though. He didn't feel comfortable walking under it so he made a step to the side and now he felt good again. As long as he didn't come too close to that thing.

"You fixed it." Sam sat down on the couch next to Dean and only then he noticed the other two staring at him. "What?"

"You remember that?" Dean and Bobby asked almost at the same time.

"What should I remember?" He looked up at the symbol but there was still nothing else he could connect to it than the name. And an uneasy feeling.

“It's a devil's trap.” Dean explained, sharing a glance with Bobby. Whatever the story behind this was, it wasn't a good one, Sam got that much.

“Devil's trap.” He repeated. “What? You trap the devil with it?” He was joking but in the back of his mind he had the feeling that his joke wasn't that far off.

“Not the devil, son.” Bobby shook his head in clear amusement. “But his minions. Demons.”

“Like …” Sam turned towards Dean. He'd heard about a demon before.

“Like the one that killed our parents and your girlfriend.” Dean answered the unspoken question, his voice flat.

“But that ain't what happened here.” Bobby spoke up but before he continued he locked eyes with Dean again as if he was asking permission to tell Sam what happened.

“Just tell me.” Sam huffed out in frustration. “I'm not a child, you don't have to ask Dean if it's okay to tell me.”

Caught Bobby cleared his throat awkwardly and made a point of not looking in Dean's direction. Instead he looked Sam in the eye.

“You were possessed.” He finally said. “The demon was strong, it broke the trap.”

“But we sent her skinny ass back to hell.” Dean cut the story short.

“You tied me to a chair under it.” Absently rubbing his forearm, Sam tried to picture it.

Sam heard himself screaming in his own head but he had no control over his body. Images gushed through his mind, just glimpses, nothing made sense. Then one memory came to the surface crystal-clear. Dean on the ground, face beaten and bloody. Sam saw himself reaching out, pressing his thumb into Dean's shoulder, digging into the gunshot wound. Dean in pain under him and that thing in his mind cackled in glee.

His fist coming down on Dean's face. Again and again and he knew he would beat his own brother to death and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Sam?” Dean's voice broke through his swirling mind. “Hey, Sammy. Breathe. Just breathe, it's okay, everything is okay.”

Like a drowning man Sam breached the surface of his memories while the images tried to drag him back under.

“I beat you up.” He croaked the words out, staring down at his hands. “I tried to kill you.”

Chapter 9
Masterpost