Scheming and Socializing at Ravenclaw Bar ((SPN crew, and see note))
((This one's open to pretty much anyone, but Yukimura and Lee are particularly invited to come around before or after Bobby and the boys show up.))Castiel had finally gotten around to investigating the bar in Ravenclaw tower, and found the place to his liking. He could sit quietly and watch people come and go if he wanted to, socialize if he liked
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Bobby was happy for them, all three of them. But he had gotten used to thinking of Sam and Dean as his own. He had no right to, they weren’t his kids, but he had grown to love those two idjits. How many times had he slipped and called one of them ‘son’? Now that John was back, he felt a little adrift. His sudden death and the reason he had died had left a tremendous hole in the lives of both boys. Now he was back to fill it, to be their father like he should have been all along.
Now he wasn’t dense enough to think that he suddenly didn’t have a place in their lives, but it was going to be different. And Bobby wasn’t sure if he liked the idea.
He knew damn well he was being a selfish old fool, but he had earned that right. It had been a damnably awful year, one full of more terror, heartache and pain than he had ever thought possible. And no matter how hard it all got, family stuck together through it.
Bobby pushed the thoughts from his mind. He had plans to meet Cas and work out their retribution. Maybe a little friendly revenge on those two idjits and a couple of beers would help clear his head. He picked up the spells and a delivery system he thought would work best and headed over to Ravenclaw.
"Don't drink these," he said without preamble, setting a pair of six-packs on the table. "I figure it's a good way to get em both at the same time."
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Sam wore his heart openly on his face, and even Dean's habitual snark couldn't completely conceal the tiredness around his eyes, but Bobby was more difficult to read. Castiel couldn't remember seeing the man look genuinely happy (not for more than fleeting instances, at least) and so it wasn't easy to guess how he was getting by without intruding further into his thoughts than seemed polite.
As for the angel, he'd been doing better since getting some sleep and (ironically) since his encounter with Death. Though he wouldn't go so far as to say all his issues were resolved, he was coping.
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It’s not that he wasn’t one to ever talk about his feelings, but Bobby had learned early in the fight to keep his hidden. He had to be the one to hold it together for Sam and Dean. He was the one who had looked after the two boys as they mourned and tried to come to terms with what had happened after John’s death. And when the angel joined their little family and experienced his own crises and struggled with mortality, Bobby was the one to hold it together for all three of them.
It was hard, but they were the ones out there on the front, they were the ones suffering, the ones being hurt and damn near killed most weeks. But someone had to be the center and keep it all from coming to pieces. He had to keep the yard together, do the research and offer the coffee, greasy food and gruff encouragement whenever they swung through.
“I’m damned glad to put the last year behind us,” he finally said. Without a crisis looming on the horizion, it had been more difficult to keep his feelings under wraps. He felt useless and he hated it. “And I’m damned glad you and the boys are here and in one piece.”
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Bobby shrugged, "Maybe. Adam'll be fine once the kid gets his head on straight. John, I don't know. Maybe he'll finally be a decent father to those two boys. He tried, I know he did, but.. sometimes his damned obsession was all he could see." He tilted the bottle back before continuing. "But they're a family again, that's what's important."
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At the hunter's last remark, he cocked his head slightly, catching the shift in the man's diction and not quite sure he understood it (or liked it.) "'They?'" he repeated, opening a beer of his own. "A few days ago it was 'we.' That's changed?"
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"When John needed help, he'd bring the boys by and I'd look after 'em when they were kids. After he died, I stepped in and did my damndest to take care of Sam and Dean. I guess somewhere along the line, I started thinkin of them as my own sons. Now that John is back, he'll be able to do what he never could before and be their father. They ain't gonna need me to look after them like I have. That don't mean that we're not still family. It's just.. different."
Bobby drained his beer, unaccustomed to talking so much about himself in one go.
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It occurred to him after a moment's reflection, however, that he might have something relevant to contribute, even so.
"'And when he had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight,'" he quoted. "Acts chapter one, verse 9." He took a swig from his bottle, and added, "One of the first things he did after he returned to Heaven was to visit the soul of the carpenter Joseph, and greeted him as a son greets a long-absent father.
"When the man asked him why the son of God would choose to honor a mere man who'd served as no more than a stand-in, Christ told him, 'What name I name thee is not for thee, nay, nor even for God the Almighty to say; for He hath made me, raised me from tribulation and brought me to my kingdom, but from thee I have learned the way to be a man; and this thing shall I not unlearn, nay, even unto the end of the age. How then shall I choose between my fathers?'"
The angel raised his eyebrows slightly. "Maybe you should let Sam and Dean decide how different things are going to be," he concluded.
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"You're right," he finally said, his voice thick. "You're right Cas." He drained his beer, setting it down among the growing number of empties. "Thanks."
Bobby nodded at the two six packs he had indicated when he first sat down. "Speakin of those two idjits, I think I've got a coupla good hexes that oughta teach them a lesson without doin any permanent damage."
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"What will they do to them?" he asked, keeping his voice low and glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard. Though not something he was entirely unfamiliar with, subterfuge still made him a little uneasy, especially when practiced against his friends. They did deserve it, though.
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Bobby nodded at the door as Sam walked into the bar, a heavy book tucked under his arm. “And that idjit? He’s gonna spend a few days tripping over those big feet of his. And damn near anything else that even thinks about getting in his way. Not bad enough that he winds up breakin anything, but enough to remind him to watch what the hell he’s doin in the future.”
He called a house elf over, muttering quietly to it for a moment. The elf took the hexed six pack, giggled something about ‘a banjo man’ and flapped over to deliver it to Sam.
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Excepting the brief Yule encounter, he suddenly realized, this would be the first time Team Free Will had gathered together peacefully in one place (and in full possession of their faculties) since before Sam's possession by Lucifer.
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"Hey guys. Bobby, I'm.."
"Apologize again, son and you're gonna eat that book," the old hunter said warningly.
He looked abashed and nodded. Sam opened the beer from the hexed six pack and drained half of it in a long swallow. He reached out to set the bottle on the table. His fingers slipped and the bottle dropped into his lap, splashing him with a wave of foam. He started to rise, but as he did, his shoe caught the cuff of his jeans and he toppled over with a crash.
Bobby gave the angel a wink. "You ok, son?"
From the floor, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
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*rip*
Sam sighed and looked back. The shoulder seam on his shirt was torn. "Damnit."
Bobby snorted and cracked open a fresh hexed beer for Sam. "Sit down before you fall down again, kid. Have you been to see your Dad yet?" At the lack of response, Bobby gave an aggrivated sigh. "Damnit, Sam."
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"You haven't spoken with your father?" he asked Sam, surprised. "He wanted very badly to see you. When I met him, he asked me at least four times whether you were all right."
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