A Change, Chapter 5
-5-
Dean had heard the howl and assumed the worst. He came out of the room, Castiel not far behind him, eyes automatically going to the figure of Bobby. He saw the guy punch Bobby in the jaw, and that was all it took for anger to explode behind his eyes. After the news that he had just gotten from Cas, he really needed to hit something. It didn’t register to him that Bobby was merely trying to calm the other man down, or that he wasn’t fighting back. At that moment, Dean was a being of action, not of thought.
Crossing the lot at a run, he was on them before anyone could stop him. Again, without thinking, he pulled the guy up from where he had been kneeling on the ground and let the first punch fly. The punch sent the man sprawling to the ground on his back. He didn’t get up, but that didn’t matter to Dean, who stepped towards him with the intention to haul his ass back up. Someone grabbing the collar of his jacket and jerking him backwards brought his forward momentum to a sudden halt. Furious, he spun around to see Bobby.
“What the hell, Bobby?!”
“Not out here, boy! You want the cops involved in this?”
Dean shook his head, but stopped trying to get past Bobby.
“Good. Now help me get him inside. No arguments, just do it.”
Dean complied, shooting suspicious glances at Cas, who was following with a frown, and at Bobby. Dean helped Bobby pick the guy up, and with one arm wrapped around each of their shoulders, started carrying him to the room. It wasn’t easy going; the man was dead weight, and so damn tall that his feet dragged on the ground. Dean sucked in a breath, thinking of Sam. He was going to kill Sam when he saw him. Maneuvering him into the room and onto one of the beds wasn’t easy either, but once it was done, Dean rounded on Bobby, his upper lip curling.
“Mind sharing with the class, Bobby? Maybe you can start with why the hell we just dragged this guy’s sorry ass in here!”
Bobby steadily looked at Dean, noting the tense set of his shoulders, and the fierce look of anger on his face. He sighed and wiped his hand over his face, then looked back at Dean, making eye contact. Evenly, he said, “Take a real good look at him, Dean.”
“Oh no, you’re going to expl-“ was all that came out of Dean’s mouth before he was interrupted by Bobby.
“Boy, I ain’t about to stand here and argue with you until the cows come home. Now you can do what I told you to do, or by God, I will whip your ass. Don’t have time for games.”
Dean took a step back, looking at Bobby’s scowling face with confusion. Okay then, he meant business. Biting back any retort, Dean finally did as he was told, ignoring the muttering that came from Bobby’s direction, but smirking just a little when he heard “Damn Winchesters.” Rolling his eyes, Dean fully turned his attention to the man on the bed. He had no idea what he was looking for.
Dean looked over him quickly, sizing him up. He was gaunt, but obviously all muscle. Explained why he was so heavy, anyway. A beard obscured most of the features of his face, his hair was pretty shaggy, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was sweaty, kind of smelly actually, and white as a sheet, aside from small splotches of color in his cheeks. Dean guessed it must be from a fever; he had felt the heat rising off him when they carried him inside. Dude felt like a furnace.
Dean ran his eyes further down the man’s form. Spotting a knife in his boot, he removed it just in case.
“Jesus, didn’t you even check him?” Dean said hotly, turning his head towards Bobby, disapproval clear in his face.
Dean snorted and turned back to his self-appointed task of searching the man for weapons. He quickly patted down the areas he could get to, pausing when he felt a cord around the man’s’ neck. He was seconds from pulling on the cord to see what sort of charm or amulet was on it when a hand grabbed his arm. He glanced at the mans’ face and saw that his eyes were open, and he was very much awake. They made eye contact, and Dean felt the world drop away when he realized who those eyes belonged to.
His mouth dropped open, and a wave of vertigo hit him as he looked into a pair of eyes that he had not seen in almost three years. They were glassy, dull with fever and pain. His heart began to race as if he had been running a marathon, but he was still unprepared for the stab of pain and hurt he felt at seeing those eyes look both at him and through him at the same time. There was something shuttered behind those eyes, and they looked at him with recognition, and a huge amount of hostility. He wasn’t even aware that he had spoken until the sound startled him.
“Sammy?”