Title: Point Blank Warnings/Triggers: non-con, child abuse
2/2
And Bobby was sure as hell going to live up to that trust Sam had placed in him. “John, if I get so much as a hint that you were in town…. if I see tire tracks that look like those or hear about a man fitting your description… if Sam or I ever see you again, I won’t bother aiming at your chest. You’ll have a bullet in your head before you can blink.” Sam’s grip tightened in appreciation.
John stared at him. Then, without breaking eye contact, without blinking, he said, “Dean, we’re going.”
Dean stood instinctively, confusion in his expression as he looked from Bobby to his father and back again. He looked at Bobby’s waist, trying to see his brother through Bobby’s body and not being able to.
Bobby noticed Sam’s hands unclench and clench again. He felt Sam’s heartbeat speed up. He heard Sam’s breath start racing in deep, desperate pants. Panic. But all Bobby could do was stand there, shotgun up. “Dean, ya don’t gotta leave either.”
“Dean!” John snapped, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Dean’s shirt at the collar and shoulder. “We’re going, son. Now!” He marched out, dragging Dean with him. Bobby heard Sam whimper, but only just barely because John left yelling obscenities at the top of his voice. The door to Bobby’s place slammed shut, but John’s yells didn’t stop until the Impala’s door slammed and its roar faded into the distance.
Bobby didn’t realize he had a cramp in his arm from holding the shotgun up and tensing his arm to keep it from shaking, but he winced as he lowered the gun, broke it open, and let the shell slide from the barrel to his living room floor. He stood for a moment, then Sam released his grip and Bobby turned around to see tears streaming down the kid’s face. “Sam…” he started, but a loud, broken, burst of a sob stopped him.
Sam’s wet eyes had been looking up at him. But they broke away and Sam ran. He ran from the room, ran for the door, and let it bang shut behind him.
Bobby followed behind, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time he reached his front porch, Sam was already there, on his knees, wrapped tight in his older brother’s arms. Dean was rocking with him slowly, back and forth. Dean was whispering guilt-filled apologies on repeat between sobs. Dean was going to need a raw steak for that eye of his. But, for the moment, Bobby just stood and watched over the two boys as the exhaust from the Impala dissipated.
Dean definitely couldn't go! That would have broken my heart and I wouldn't have been able to finish the story. It's going to take him a while to get over feeling guilty for not realizing and not protecting Sammy, though.
Ye-esssssss. In the immortal words of Maggie Simpson: "Sequel?" But, seriously: "Bobby followed behind, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time he reached his front porch, Sam was already there, on his knees, wrapped tight in his older brother’s arms. Dean was rocking with him slowly, back and forth." That was adorable, but also, the slow-motion - and your Bobby POV, all of it, now I come to think of it - is perfect, because in times of crisis, with the adrenaline letdown, I can really see Bobby reacting exactly like this. It is so wonderfully written, and how Bobby coaxes the abuse out of Sam, and omg your Sam staying with his protector *MELTS* I just... oooohhhhh. This is just healing, and wonderful.
Warnings/Triggers: non-con, child abuse
2/2
And Bobby was sure as hell going to live up to that trust Sam had placed in him. “John, if I get so much as a hint that you were in town…. if I see tire tracks that look like those or hear about a man fitting your description… if Sam or I ever see you again, I won’t bother aiming at your chest. You’ll have a bullet in your head before you can blink.” Sam’s grip tightened in appreciation.
John stared at him. Then, without breaking eye contact, without blinking, he said, “Dean, we’re going.”
Dean stood instinctively, confusion in his expression as he looked from Bobby to his father and back again. He looked at Bobby’s waist, trying to see his brother through Bobby’s body and not being able to.
Bobby noticed Sam’s hands unclench and clench again. He felt Sam’s heartbeat speed up. He heard Sam’s breath start racing in deep, desperate pants. Panic. But all Bobby could do was stand there, shotgun up. “Dean, ya don’t gotta leave either.”
“Dean!” John snapped, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Dean’s shirt at the collar and shoulder. “We’re going, son. Now!” He marched out, dragging Dean with him. Bobby heard Sam whimper, but only just barely because John left yelling obscenities at the top of his voice. The door to Bobby’s place slammed shut, but John’s yells didn’t stop until the Impala’s door slammed and its roar faded into the distance.
Bobby didn’t realize he had a cramp in his arm from holding the shotgun up and tensing his arm to keep it from shaking, but he winced as he lowered the gun, broke it open, and let the shell slide from the barrel to his living room floor. He stood for a moment, then Sam released his grip and Bobby turned around to see tears streaming down the kid’s face. “Sam…” he started, but a loud, broken, burst of a sob stopped him.
Sam’s wet eyes had been looking up at him. But they broke away and Sam ran. He ran from the room, ran for the door, and let it bang shut behind him.
Bobby followed behind, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time he reached his front porch, Sam was already there, on his knees, wrapped tight in his older brother’s arms. Dean was rocking with him slowly, back and forth. Dean was whispering guilt-filled apologies on repeat between sobs. Dean was going to need a raw steak for that eye of his. But, for the moment, Bobby just stood and watched over the two boys as the exhaust from the Impala dissipated.
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In the immortal words of Maggie Simpson: "Sequel?"
But, seriously:
"Bobby followed behind, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. By the time he reached his front porch, Sam was already there, on his knees, wrapped tight in his older brother’s arms. Dean was rocking with him slowly, back and forth." That was adorable, but also, the slow-motion - and your Bobby POV, all of it, now I come to think of it - is perfect, because in times of crisis, with the adrenaline letdown, I can really see Bobby reacting exactly like this. It is so wonderfully written, and how Bobby coaxes the abuse out of Sam, and omg your Sam staying with his protector *MELTS*
I just... oooohhhhh. This is just healing, and wonderful.
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