Big Bang Fic: The Leap Home, Part 1
The Leap Home. Part 1.
Bobby whips his eyes from Dean’s body toward the gate. It remains resolutely shut, yielding no further clues to Bobby than it did two minutes before. There’s still no Sam appearing back through it. Bobby lets out breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and fills his lungs to a count of ten that’s as slow as his impatience will allow. Ten more seconds, one more breath, and he’s going in after the idjit. Ten more seconds and it won’t make any difference whether he stands guard over Dean’s body or not, ‘cause there’ll be no getting Dean back into it. Ten more seconds… and there’ll still be nothing more Bobby can do other than watch, wait and hope.
The softly falling rain starts to pound a little heavier and Bobby draws his feet into the car and pulls the door shut. He reaches into the back seat, touches Dean’s arm softly. The spell Bobby cast is still keeping it warm and stopping the rigor mortis, but it won’t be long. Dean’s skin is buzzing under Bobby’s fingers as the magic ebbs away, vibrating toward the surface of Dean’s skin and vanishing into the air. Sam doesn’t have long. Sam can do many things - Bobby’s no doubt about that, that either boy could do pretty much what they set out to - but killing enough demons to get Dean out? Bobby’s not certain about that.
Of course, Sam didn’t listen. Since when did either of the idjits listen to anything Bobby had to say? They went bull-headed about whatever they wanted. Same as their father, the pair of them.
Five more seconds, then Bobby will go in after Sam whether it’ll do any damn good or not.
Bobby hears the rasp of the gate first, a welcome grind of moving hinges. He scrambles out of the car as a head appears from the inky black behind the gate, followed quickly by glistening silver. Sam moves completely through, clutching Ruby’s knife firmly in a taut, now sooty hand. A small smile washes over his face when he catches sight of Bobby and he swiftly moves to one side.
Bobby’s breath catches when he sees Dean, or rather, Dean’s soul, moving soundlessly out from behind Sam. His soul is bloody and broken; Bobby can see the wounds where hooks or pins must have held Dean into place. Dean stands aside helplessly while Sam slides the gate shut, giving Bobby a twisted smile that has some meaning Bobby doesn’t understand. Bobby catches the knife when Sam tosses it over to him.
“Got what we came for,” Sam says, the smile widening and reaching water appearing in the corners of his eyes.
“So I see.” Bobby nods. “Get you back in your body boy then we’ll book it out of here, okay?”
Dean nods in return and waves his hand in a frantic gesture that Bobby would swear would contain curse words if it were sign language. Bobby fumbles in his pocket for the paper he’d stuffed in there earlier and stands close to Sam as they recite the carefully transcribed words. Sam’s voice trembles as they speak so Bobby makes his voice louder, rolls the words out as smoothly as he can, praying that it’ll work.
If this doesn’t work, there’s not a hell of a lot else they can do.
They reach the final words, reverto ut somes, and as Bobby lets the s extend out, forming a long tail on the body of the spell, Dean’s soul shakes, a picture on a television set turning into static - and then vanishes.
Bobby and Sam turn as one toward Dean’s body. Sam touches Dean’s foot gently. “He’s not… why isn’t he moving Bobby? Why?” Sam’s voice cracks and he kneels on the wet muddy ground, running a hand softly over Dean’s body and ending at the careful rows of stitches on his chest. Rows that Sam insisted on doing himself, even though Bobby told him he wasn’t fit for it, was too strung out to do it. Sam was his father’s son though, and he hadn’t slept until Dean’s body was patched up.
Bobby prays it’s been enough. He trails his eyes slowly up Dean’s body, searches through all the ways they researched getting him back into it. When his gaze gets to Dean’s face, Dean creaks his eyes open stiffly, a door that needs a good oil.
“Took you both long enough. I was getting tired of standing there like Casper.” Dean sits up slowly, his hands slipping on the leather and struggling to hold purchase. He gives up, leaning against the seat to give them both a crooked grin. “Glad you put me back into this body. It is a devilishly handsome one.” Dean gives a loud sniff. “Doesn’t even smell.”
“Only as bad as usual.” Sam gives an actual laugh, even if it sounds forced and mostly full of relief. Bobby moves to the driver’s seat, allowing them their moment to hug.
There’s time for them to hug him later. In the meantime, they’ve got demons on their collective asses.
*
Bobby heaps coffee into three mugs, and allows relief to seep through him. Not that he’ll admit it too much to those boys; Lilith’s still out there and pissed, and Sam’s got to have killed a few demons to get Dean back and that means revenge. In fact, Bobby’s not certain how Sam managed to get Dean out, and all Sam will say is that he got in, unhooked Dean and got the hell out again, pun intended, and Bobby knows there must be more to it than that. It’s a miracle they’re both here.
Although there’s a lot of good in those boys being alive, it goes against the natural order of things, and Bobby knows that means consequences too, in some form or other.
Bobby sets the kettle to boil and while he waits, he roves his eyes around the room, searching for something to settle his mind. The texts he and Sam had been reading, poring over for all those hours with every piece of willpower and energy they could summon, lie discarded on the table. Bobby walks over, and draws the book that had all their hopes writ within toward him. It’s strong magic they’ve used, dipping into deep murky water and hoping to come up with clear lungs.
No consequences of the spell that Bobby can see, but that doesn’t make him quit worrying about it.
Bobby pours water into the three mugs, making the coffee strong enough to keep them all going. The boys should rest, but they won’t listen, and Bobby hasn’t much mind to stop them. Sam will want to put distance between them and the demons and Dean will want to be on the move. He agrees they need to keep mobile to keep safe.
They clatter in, laughing at some joke that Bobby wouldn’t understand even if they explained it to him. Dean’s nudging Sam, and Sam bangs into the counter in his efforts to escape it, which makes them both laugh all the more.
“Coffee, a born again man’s first wish,” Dean says, stretching out his hand and making a grabbing gesture.
Sam punches him gently on the shoulder. “I thought that was a burger? Hang on, I thought that was to get laid? You gonna use this excuse about everything?”
“Long as I can Sammy.” Dean cradles the mug Bobby proffers him in both hands and sips it greedily.
Bobby holds Sam’s mug out toward him, but Sam ignores it, walking toward the open book on the table.
“Why’s this out? You worried, Bobby?”
Bobby shakes his head. “Just checking it over. Thinking how we’re lucky it worked.”
“This the spell?” Dean wanders over toward it, wrinkling his nose as he reads over the page. He stands close to Sam, shoulder brushing shoulder. They both need to reassure the other they’re really there. There’s always an invisible piece of string that joins them, and it seems to have gotten shorter than ever.
Staring at them Bobby can only think how they should both be dead, how it’s a miracle they’re not dead, and his chest is very tight; he’s going to have trouble getting his next breath out. He lifts his coffee up and takes a deep swallow. He should have stopped either of ‘em dying, should have prevented this from happening a long time ago. What kind of help has he been to them? What kind of help has he been in John’s absence?
Bobby sees Dean nudge Sam and point to something on the page. Bobby tries to duck away from the guilt that infuses him. He pushes it out of his mind as hard as he can, and as he lets out his breath a huge flash of light bursts out in front of him. The world becomes nothing but a white brilliance that swallows Bobby up until he’s part of it, swimming around with the particles. Then he falls, or darkness rushes up, Bobby’s not sure which, but the light becomes smaller and smaller until it’s only a pinprick in the far distance and then it’s gone completely, and Bobby isn’t aware of anything.
When he opens his eyes he’s on the floor, and he’s staring at the leg of the table close up, a knot of wood right in front of his eyes. Sam’s voice is calling out frantically in the distance. It sounds far away, as if Sam’s at the other end of a field. It gradually gets closer, as if Sam’s running toward him as he shouts, though Bobby’s pretty certain nobody’s going anywhere.
Bobby sits up, and stares across at himself, struggling up off the ground. He moves his legs and notices that they’re covered in jeans, and Dean’s shoes and…
“Why the fuck am I looking at myself?” Bobby’s voice rings out loud and clear as he watches himself sit up.
“’Cause you’re in my body you idjit. And I’m in yours.” Bobby stands, finding it much easier to get to his feet than it usually is. “Sam, I-“
“I’ll hit the books,” and Sam’s already picking one up.
*
“I don’t get why this has happened. Was the spell you found before a bust?” Dean takes Bobby’s hat off and throws it onto the table.
Bobby picks it up and puts it on. He’s naked without it. He glances up from his book and catches Dean staring at him open-mouthed. “What you staring at?”
“It’s all wrong.” Dean scratches his chin and draws his hand back and stares at it. “I’ve got a beard. I’m a trucker. And old.”
“Watch it, boy.”
“No offense, Bobby. But how do you hunt? Everything aches and all I’ve been doing is sitting here.” Dean stretches out his legs and stares down at them, pushing his lips out into a huge pout as he does.
“I’ve had a hard coupla days,” Bobby says. He flips back a page. Nothing there. Nothing that’ll work anyway.
“I get it, I get it. Saving me.” The same twisted smile that Bobby doesn’t get flickers over Dean’s face. There’s something about Dean that isn’t quite right, but Bobby can’t put his finger on it. The wisecracks are forced, the smile pasted on.
Maybe that’s the body swap. Bobby guesses he probably comes across the same way.
“It’s a shame we didn’t find a better spell,” Sam mumbles. He pushes a book toward Bobby, past the coffee Bobby insisted on putting there but that Sam is refusing to touch. “Any good?”
“Nothing wrong with the spell. Should’ve worked,” Bobby says.
“But it didn’t. Unless, we’ve swapped for some other reason,” Dean says. “I mean, you moved too.”
“Likely your soul pushed mine out and I went into nearest empty thing - which was you.”
“Lucky,” Dean says. “You could’ve ended up in this mug. Or the table. You got lucky. I’m a great vessel to end up in.” The words are falsely light, floating away from the substance of the matter.
“Or I got pinged back into you as a side effect. It is too much of a coincidence not to be spell related.” Bobby runs his finger down the page Sam’s given him.
“Why did I go into you, not Sam?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Bobby grimaces. There is no reason, far as he can see. More important is fixing the spell that went wrong. Much as Bobby doesn’t believe fire with fire’s always the answer - sometimes it leads to simply an even bigger fire - this spell Sam’s found might work. It sounds crazy, and it’s in a book that Bobby’s only found to work once or twice, but Bobby supposes it’s worth a try. “Might work. We’ll need some herbs I haven’t got though.” Bobby racks his brains to think who might be able to supply them. Mahala’s, he supposes, but she’s a good few hours away.
“See? We’ll get you back in your body Dean, I promise.” Sam bites his lip, his eyes starting to water at the edges. “I’m sorry the spell didn’t work.”
Bobby hopes Sam doesn’t cry. Not that he’d blame the kid, the emotional rollercoaster he’s been on - both of them have been on - since Dean’s death, but there’s nothing Bobby could say that could help. Nothing anyone could say.
Sam presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, and when he removes them, fire is burning out the water. A fierce gleam flickers deep within his eyes that Bobby’s seen a bit too often lately, but he supposes Sam needs it to keep going. “I promise we’ll fix it, whatever we have to do.”
“Okay, okay hold your horses. Worse things have happened,” Dean says. “Even if I am in an old man.”
“You want me to fix you or not?” Bobby gives a grin, more for their benefit than because he believes it. “I’m happy to stay in this much younger, stronger-”
“More handsome...”
“Not as handsome as I used to be, body,” Bobby finishes. He pulls the hat firmer onto his head. “I think I know somewhere we can get some of these supplies.”
Sam’s pulling the book toward him and taking out his pen before Bobby’s finished his sentence. “Let’s go.”
*
“Have to change the mirror, I hate having to change the mirror.” Dean bashes his hand against the steering wheel, then gives a curse word that Bobby’s pretty sure has never come out of his mouth before - and Bobby knows a few curses.
Bobby catches Sam’s eye in the rearview and gives an over the top roll of his eyes. Sam gives a minute nod in return, then carries on chewing his lip and staring out the window.
“Just drive,” Bobby snaps, settling into the backseat, leaving Sam to his worries. All he can do is get them to Mahala and hope she’s got what they need.
He spends most of the drive stretching out his legs and making his hands into fists, getting used to how the skin feels. It’s tight at the edges, he’s too much water lapping into an overflowing bowl. It isn’t right and Bobby knows it will never feel right.
He still has to be able to move the body correctly though, and that means getting used to Dean’s more muscular frame.
“Where’s this place again?”
Bobby does a double take as he sees himself in the rearview, then curses.
Dean laughs. “Freaking you out too?” He shakes his head. “Man, it’s weird looking at myself. Not entirely unpleasant, but freaky.”
“We go left, right Bobby?” Sam interrupts, reaching for the map.
“Yeah next left and it’s at the end. Opposite a book store, I think.”
Dean slows to a halt in front of it and peers out of the door. “It’s this?”
Bobby grins and gets out of the car, his chest pulling as he does and drawing his hand to touch his stitches. Dean’s body definitely needs rest, despite its youth. He stares at the plain storefront, and the red “organic food” sign. “Yes, this is it. Used to be jewelry - all a front for the talismans she’d sell, then she started to provide me with rare herbs too.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Huh. Guess this is her new front.”
“Organic food. What’s wrong with ordinary food? That’s the kind of stuff you’d buy, Sam,” Dean mutters.
Sam swings ahead of them, his arms held stiffly by his sides. Bobby had hoped the tension would go once Dean came back. He overtakes Sam on the way into the store.
“How can I help you?” Mahala calls from the back. Bobby smiles as he watches her distractedly put some food packages away. Her long dark hair gets in the way and she ties it into a big knot before picking up a large box from the floor.
“We need…” Bobby coughs when he hears Dean’s voice coming out of his mouth. Dammit. “We need some of your other stock,” Bobby finishes lamely.
Mahala whirls around, the package falling out of her hand as she sees Bobby. She glances from him to Sam and Dean at the door, her eyes settling on Dean. Her face breaks into a smile. “Bobby! Why didn’t you say so?”
Bobby fixes himself to allow her a hug, but of course she brushes straight past him - not before she’s assessed him with one burning stare and a gleam in her eye she hasn’t ever used in all the years he’s known her - and throws her arms around Dean.
“It’s good to see you, Bobby.”
“And you too darlin’,” Dean drawls, pulling back and eyeing her up and down.
Mahala steps back. “Bobby? I…” She frowns.
“I’m here,” Bobby says. “That’s Dean. In my body. Learning how to behave himself, I hope.”
“What? I’m behaving. Just saying hello,” Dean says. He gives Mahala a wink and then a smile. “Hello,” he drawls.
To Bobby’s astonishment, Mahala giggles. She then glances over toward Bobby, and Bobby would swear she’s checking out his body.
It’s a face he’s not seen a woman wear in a while. It makes heat coil in his belly and causes him to fidget uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wants to get this fixed.
He also kind of doesn’t mind it.
“We’ve had a…soul switch. I need some supplies.” Bobby nods toward Sam and Sam draws their list out of his pocket.
“I’m Sam,” Sam says. “I’m in my right body. Right mind too.”
“Me too,” Mahala says. She walks up to Bobby and cocks her head to the side, making her hair come out of its loose hold and tumble to her shoulders. “That’s you in there? Well.” She stops short of hugging him. “I can sense it actually. Something’s off, something I can’t put my finger on. From you, yeah, but also…” She turns toward Dean and lifts her hand in the air, moving as if she’s making scratches down someone’s back. “More from you.”
“Well. We do think it’s my soul causing it.” Dean pokes at his chest, just below his heart.
“It’s more than that.” Mahala stares at Dean for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. She shakes her head, and reaches out for the list. “I’ll get the stuff for you.”
They all stare after her as she walks toward her back room. Bobby hears Dean give a low whistle. “Man, you didn’t say she was so hot Bobby.”
Sam pokes Dean’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re not trying to get her number.”
Dean sniffs. “I could get her number, Bobby’s body or-”
“You want this body back ever?” Bobby squashes that thought firmly out of Dean’s head. Mahala’s gaze felt good - exceptionally good - but there’s too much of a weird factor about it.
“It doesn’t matter.” Dean shrugs, reaches up to rub an arm that Bobby knows has got nothing wrong with it. “Let’s get this fixed.”
“It doesn’t matter? Getting laid doesn’t matter? Wait while I get a tape to record that.” Bobby can hear Sam’s worry without him having to say it, but still, they should keep their minds on the job.
“Shut up the pair of you,” Bobby says. “I can whup both your asses, whatever body I’m in.”
They both collapse their bodies, letting the pull of gravity drag everything toward the ground, even their lips. Bobby’s never seem himself appear so young.
Mahala’s eyes twinkle as she walks back into the room. “Here you go. Hope the spell works.”
“Us too,” Dean says.
“Come back and say hey when you’re all fixed sometime.” Mahala winks at Bobby, that same gleam appearing in her eyes. He blinks at her in confusion and she blushes, twines hair around a finger. “And always good to see you.”
“Thanks, Mahala. How’s the organic food cover going?”
“Not as good as the jewelry shop did, but okay.” She smoothes out her hair. “I prefer dealing in herbs on the black market and it’s a better cover. Keeps me off the streets.”
“So,” Dean says when they get outside, rubbing his hands together. “What does this spell involve exactly?”
*
“You want me to do what? Are you fucking joking? Did you lose your mind when we lost our bodies?”
“That’s what it says, Dean. I’m not making this up.” Sam’s voice takes the tone of a parent explaining something to a particularly difficult child.
Bobby clears his throat while Dean snatches the book out of Sam’s hands. “I’m not exactly thrilled about this either Dean.”
“The pair of you have cooked this up. You find it funny.” Dean jabs a finger in the air and takes it down to rest on the page. “Dammit. Fine.” Dean tosses the book back to Sam who catches it easily. Dean pulls his shirt off and frowns as he stares down at Bobby’s bare chest. “Man!”
Bobby glances across at Dean - at his own bare chest - and grins. “At least I get to do it wearing this body.”
“I’ll read the words while you two do the moves.” Sam leans up against the counter and frowns over the page.
“Frickin’ moves. What am I, Britney Spears?”
“Just get them right, Dean.”
“Let’s go over them,” Bobby says. “You recite the words, while we...”
“Dance around naked waving our hands around like a demented chicken! I’ve seen some pretty weird crap in my time but-“
“-this takes the cake. I know. It is a strange book.” Bobby takes off his shirt. They’re all quiet, and Bobby wills himself not to touch the stitches. “It might not work.”
“But we have to give it a try,” Sam says firmly. “You can’t stay in the wrong bodies forever. Then we can all wipe this experience from our minds and gouge our eyes out with a spoon.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dean says.
“And me.” Bobby eyes the muscular body he’s in for what he hopes is the last time. He wishes that he had longer to appreciate being young, then curses himself. Dean deserves to have his body back, and get used to being alive again. “Let’s do it.”
They remove the rest of their clothes and Bobby stares hard at his ceiling fan, willing himself not to look down at Dean’s body or across at his own. A very awkward silence takes over.
“Okay. Start the first move.” Sam’s voice is strangled. Bobby sneaks a peek over at him and he’s staring firmly at the book.
Bobby starts to wave his hands around as Sam instructs. He’s so busy trying not to fall over that he doesn’t pay attention to where Dean is, and they bang into each other, then leap about two feet apart. Sam fumbles over a few words, and Bobby would swear he’s swallowing back a laugh. Presumably he snuck a peek.
Sam reads through the piece twice then stops. “Dean? Bobby?”
“Nothing,” Bobby says. “You?”
“Zip. Nada. I’m still here.”
“It should have worked by now? Shouldn’t it?” Sam flicks through the book. “Bobby?”
“Yeah.” Bobby puts his head in his hands, starting when the cold metal of the ring touches his cheek. “Yeah it should have.”
*
They all return to the books, reading over spells they’ve already discarded as invention, or not what they need. Bobby refuses to discard his hope, and he knows it’ll be a long time before Sam or Dean do. They’ll find something.
If only it would come along a bit sooner. Bobby’s entire body aches, each individual stitch of time burns his chest, and the whole skin is too tight. He wants to crawl out of it and leave it behind. He wants to run away from it and be free again, back with those particles of light.
“We’ve been through this.” Dean pushes the book away so hard it bumps into Sam’s and Bobby sees Sam’s body tense.
“We might have missed something.”
“Between the two of you? We haven’t missed anything.”
Bobby takes his hat off and scratches the strangely spiky hair underneath. “I don’t think we have either. I need to think about other texts we could try and get hold of.”
“I’ll try online again.” Sam pulls his laptop toward him and Bobby ignores the shake of Sam’s hands when he flips it open. Bobby chews the inside of his mouth. It’s too much for these boys to cope with.
“I’ll get coffee,” Dean says. “I seem to need more in this body.”
“Please,” Bobby says. “I had a withdrawal headache after an hour. What do you put into this thing?”
“Don’t call that fine specimen a thing.”
“I’ll try another search.” Sam sounds overly bright and he types on the computer without watching the keys, as his gaze never falters from where Dean fills the kettle. “I will find something. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” Dean says. “You got me out of hell, you got me back in -- well, a body. You did good.” There’s that lightness again, the one that says Dean doesn’t quite mean it. It’s harder to find clues about whether Dean’s lying, ‘cause Bobby’s distracted by staring at his own face.
Bobby can’t help but think Dean’s worrying about the same thing Bobby is - how did Sam kill all those demons - but Bobby knows if it were relevant to getting Dean right again, Sam would mention it. First things first. Get Dean back in his proper body.
“No,” Bobby bites his lip. “We did our best with that spell to bring Dean back. I should’ve…” Bobby doesn’t want to get into that.
“What?” Sam says. “You should have what?”
“I should have stopped this earlier,” Bobby waves his hand around the three of them. He shouldn’t go into it but he can’t help it, there’s no energy left to keep it in. “You two, dying for each other. You two, doing whatever it takes. You gotta learn that sometimes, you have to let people go. Sometimes, life, things-” Bobby fiddles with Dean’s ring. It’s oddly comforting. “I’m older than you. Your Dad’s not around. I should’ve-”
“Bobby, whatever we did, we did,” Dean says. “And I know it’s not always worked out, but we’re both here.” Dean leans against the edge of the table, ignoring the whistling of the kettle. “That’s all that matters. Any of this other shit, that’s nothing.”
“No. Bobby, you’re like a father to us.” Sam leans forward earnestly.
“You're family.” Dean says firmly, in John’s voice that brooks no argument. He sits back down at the table and rests his hands flat on it.
“I guess.” Bobby gives Sam a smile and Sam grins back, a watery, wavering smile that’s put on for his benefit, but it’s there. Dean manages to stare, young and alive again out of Bobby’s own face. A weight lifts off Bobby’s shoulders that he wasn’t aware was there, making him free again. Maybe all he can do with these two is get them out of trouble.
There’s a welling inside his chest, an ocean inside him threatening to choke him and just when he thinks he can’t get any air, that’ll he’ll suffocate, the huge white light appears and envelops him again.
He wakes to the sound of Sam’s voice, far away, but clearly saying, “Dean? Bobby? Does this mean you two are back?”
Bobby sits up and stares across at Dean, who’s taking the hat off his head and throwing it onto the table. “Yes, we’re back.”
“Thank…” Sam frowns. “What made you go back? Did the spell work?”
“I’m not sure.” Bobby shrugs. “It could just have been a temporary problem with our other spell. It could be-” Bobby stretches out his arms. His skin is normal again, fits his skeleton perfectly. He’s no longer trapped.
“What?” Sam’s eyes are boring into Dean, leaving him only for a second to bore into Bobby.
“I felt relief, that’s when we swapped back. Maybe it was significant that you jumped into me.” Bobby flexes first one foot, then the other. Everything is working perfectly.
“Whatever, it’s over. Right?” Dean runs his hand through his hair and breaks into a wide smile.
“Right,” Sam replies.
Bobby hopes that that’s true.
***
Part 2 - Noel
Bobby whips his eyes from Dean’s body toward the gate. It remains resolutely shut, yielding no further clues to Bobby than it did two minutes before. There’s still no Sam appearing back through it. Bobby lets out breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and fills his lungs to a count of ten that’s as slow as his impatience will allow. Ten more seconds, one more breath, and he’s going in after the idjit. Ten more seconds and it won’t make any difference whether he stands guard over Dean’s body or not, ‘cause there’ll be no getting Dean back into it. Ten more seconds… and there’ll still be nothing more Bobby can do other than watch, wait and hope.
The softly falling rain starts to pound a little heavier and Bobby draws his feet into the car and pulls the door shut. He reaches into the back seat, touches Dean’s arm softly. The spell Bobby cast is still keeping it warm and stopping the rigor mortis, but it won’t be long. Dean’s skin is buzzing under Bobby’s fingers as the magic ebbs away, vibrating toward the surface of Dean’s skin and vanishing into the air. Sam doesn’t have long. Sam can do many things - Bobby’s no doubt about that, that either boy could do pretty much what they set out to - but killing enough demons to get Dean out? Bobby’s not certain about that.
Of course, Sam didn’t listen. Since when did either of the idjits listen to anything Bobby had to say? They went bull-headed about whatever they wanted. Same as their father, the pair of them.
Five more seconds, then Bobby will go in after Sam whether it’ll do any damn good or not.
Bobby hears the rasp of the gate first, a welcome grind of moving hinges. He scrambles out of the car as a head appears from the inky black behind the gate, followed quickly by glistening silver. Sam moves completely through, clutching Ruby’s knife firmly in a taut, now sooty hand. A small smile washes over his face when he catches sight of Bobby and he swiftly moves to one side.
Bobby’s breath catches when he sees Dean, or rather, Dean’s soul, moving soundlessly out from behind Sam. His soul is bloody and broken; Bobby can see the wounds where hooks or pins must have held Dean into place. Dean stands aside helplessly while Sam slides the gate shut, giving Bobby a twisted smile that has some meaning Bobby doesn’t understand. Bobby catches the knife when Sam tosses it over to him.
“Got what we came for,” Sam says, the smile widening and reaching water appearing in the corners of his eyes.
“So I see.” Bobby nods. “Get you back in your body boy then we’ll book it out of here, okay?”
Dean nods in return and waves his hand in a frantic gesture that Bobby would swear would contain curse words if it were sign language. Bobby fumbles in his pocket for the paper he’d stuffed in there earlier and stands close to Sam as they recite the carefully transcribed words. Sam’s voice trembles as they speak so Bobby makes his voice louder, rolls the words out as smoothly as he can, praying that it’ll work.
If this doesn’t work, there’s not a hell of a lot else they can do.
They reach the final words, reverto ut somes, and as Bobby lets the s extend out, forming a long tail on the body of the spell, Dean’s soul shakes, a picture on a television set turning into static - and then vanishes.
Bobby and Sam turn as one toward Dean’s body. Sam touches Dean’s foot gently. “He’s not… why isn’t he moving Bobby? Why?” Sam’s voice cracks and he kneels on the wet muddy ground, running a hand softly over Dean’s body and ending at the careful rows of stitches on his chest. Rows that Sam insisted on doing himself, even though Bobby told him he wasn’t fit for it, was too strung out to do it. Sam was his father’s son though, and he hadn’t slept until Dean’s body was patched up.
Bobby prays it’s been enough. He trails his eyes slowly up Dean’s body, searches through all the ways they researched getting him back into it. When his gaze gets to Dean’s face, Dean creaks his eyes open stiffly, a door that needs a good oil.
“Took you both long enough. I was getting tired of standing there like Casper.” Dean sits up slowly, his hands slipping on the leather and struggling to hold purchase. He gives up, leaning against the seat to give them both a crooked grin. “Glad you put me back into this body. It is a devilishly handsome one.” Dean gives a loud sniff. “Doesn’t even smell.”
“Only as bad as usual.” Sam gives an actual laugh, even if it sounds forced and mostly full of relief. Bobby moves to the driver’s seat, allowing them their moment to hug.
There’s time for them to hug him later. In the meantime, they’ve got demons on their collective asses.
*
Bobby heaps coffee into three mugs, and allows relief to seep through him. Not that he’ll admit it too much to those boys; Lilith’s still out there and pissed, and Sam’s got to have killed a few demons to get Dean back and that means revenge. In fact, Bobby’s not certain how Sam managed to get Dean out, and all Sam will say is that he got in, unhooked Dean and got the hell out again, pun intended, and Bobby knows there must be more to it than that. It’s a miracle they’re both here.
Although there’s a lot of good in those boys being alive, it goes against the natural order of things, and Bobby knows that means consequences too, in some form or other.
Bobby sets the kettle to boil and while he waits, he roves his eyes around the room, searching for something to settle his mind. The texts he and Sam had been reading, poring over for all those hours with every piece of willpower and energy they could summon, lie discarded on the table. Bobby walks over, and draws the book that had all their hopes writ within toward him. It’s strong magic they’ve used, dipping into deep murky water and hoping to come up with clear lungs.
No consequences of the spell that Bobby can see, but that doesn’t make him quit worrying about it.
Bobby pours water into the three mugs, making the coffee strong enough to keep them all going. The boys should rest, but they won’t listen, and Bobby hasn’t much mind to stop them. Sam will want to put distance between them and the demons and Dean will want to be on the move. He agrees they need to keep mobile to keep safe.
They clatter in, laughing at some joke that Bobby wouldn’t understand even if they explained it to him. Dean’s nudging Sam, and Sam bangs into the counter in his efforts to escape it, which makes them both laugh all the more.
“Coffee, a born again man’s first wish,” Dean says, stretching out his hand and making a grabbing gesture.
Sam punches him gently on the shoulder. “I thought that was a burger? Hang on, I thought that was to get laid? You gonna use this excuse about everything?”
“Long as I can Sammy.” Dean cradles the mug Bobby proffers him in both hands and sips it greedily.
Bobby holds Sam’s mug out toward him, but Sam ignores it, walking toward the open book on the table.
“Why’s this out? You worried, Bobby?”
Bobby shakes his head. “Just checking it over. Thinking how we’re lucky it worked.”
“This the spell?” Dean wanders over toward it, wrinkling his nose as he reads over the page. He stands close to Sam, shoulder brushing shoulder. They both need to reassure the other they’re really there. There’s always an invisible piece of string that joins them, and it seems to have gotten shorter than ever.
Staring at them Bobby can only think how they should both be dead, how it’s a miracle they’re not dead, and his chest is very tight; he’s going to have trouble getting his next breath out. He lifts his coffee up and takes a deep swallow. He should have stopped either of ‘em dying, should have prevented this from happening a long time ago. What kind of help has he been to them? What kind of help has he been in John’s absence?
Bobby sees Dean nudge Sam and point to something on the page. Bobby tries to duck away from the guilt that infuses him. He pushes it out of his mind as hard as he can, and as he lets out his breath a huge flash of light bursts out in front of him. The world becomes nothing but a white brilliance that swallows Bobby up until he’s part of it, swimming around with the particles. Then he falls, or darkness rushes up, Bobby’s not sure which, but the light becomes smaller and smaller until it’s only a pinprick in the far distance and then it’s gone completely, and Bobby isn’t aware of anything.
When he opens his eyes he’s on the floor, and he’s staring at the leg of the table close up, a knot of wood right in front of his eyes. Sam’s voice is calling out frantically in the distance. It sounds far away, as if Sam’s at the other end of a field. It gradually gets closer, as if Sam’s running toward him as he shouts, though Bobby’s pretty certain nobody’s going anywhere.
Bobby sits up, and stares across at himself, struggling up off the ground. He moves his legs and notices that they’re covered in jeans, and Dean’s shoes and…
“Why the fuck am I looking at myself?” Bobby’s voice rings out loud and clear as he watches himself sit up.
“’Cause you’re in my body you idjit. And I’m in yours.” Bobby stands, finding it much easier to get to his feet than it usually is. “Sam, I-“
“I’ll hit the books,” and Sam’s already picking one up.
*
“I don’t get why this has happened. Was the spell you found before a bust?” Dean takes Bobby’s hat off and throws it onto the table.
Bobby picks it up and puts it on. He’s naked without it. He glances up from his book and catches Dean staring at him open-mouthed. “What you staring at?”
“It’s all wrong.” Dean scratches his chin and draws his hand back and stares at it. “I’ve got a beard. I’m a trucker. And old.”
“Watch it, boy.”
“No offense, Bobby. But how do you hunt? Everything aches and all I’ve been doing is sitting here.” Dean stretches out his legs and stares down at them, pushing his lips out into a huge pout as he does.
“I’ve had a hard coupla days,” Bobby says. He flips back a page. Nothing there. Nothing that’ll work anyway.
“I get it, I get it. Saving me.” The same twisted smile that Bobby doesn’t get flickers over Dean’s face. There’s something about Dean that isn’t quite right, but Bobby can’t put his finger on it. The wisecracks are forced, the smile pasted on.
Maybe that’s the body swap. Bobby guesses he probably comes across the same way.
“It’s a shame we didn’t find a better spell,” Sam mumbles. He pushes a book toward Bobby, past the coffee Bobby insisted on putting there but that Sam is refusing to touch. “Any good?”
“Nothing wrong with the spell. Should’ve worked,” Bobby says.
“But it didn’t. Unless, we’ve swapped for some other reason,” Dean says. “I mean, you moved too.”
“Likely your soul pushed mine out and I went into nearest empty thing - which was you.”
“Lucky,” Dean says. “You could’ve ended up in this mug. Or the table. You got lucky. I’m a great vessel to end up in.” The words are falsely light, floating away from the substance of the matter.
“Or I got pinged back into you as a side effect. It is too much of a coincidence not to be spell related.” Bobby runs his finger down the page Sam’s given him.
“Why did I go into you, not Sam?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Bobby grimaces. There is no reason, far as he can see. More important is fixing the spell that went wrong. Much as Bobby doesn’t believe fire with fire’s always the answer - sometimes it leads to simply an even bigger fire - this spell Sam’s found might work. It sounds crazy, and it’s in a book that Bobby’s only found to work once or twice, but Bobby supposes it’s worth a try. “Might work. We’ll need some herbs I haven’t got though.” Bobby racks his brains to think who might be able to supply them. Mahala’s, he supposes, but she’s a good few hours away.
“See? We’ll get you back in your body Dean, I promise.” Sam bites his lip, his eyes starting to water at the edges. “I’m sorry the spell didn’t work.”
Bobby hopes Sam doesn’t cry. Not that he’d blame the kid, the emotional rollercoaster he’s been on - both of them have been on - since Dean’s death, but there’s nothing Bobby could say that could help. Nothing anyone could say.
Sam presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, and when he removes them, fire is burning out the water. A fierce gleam flickers deep within his eyes that Bobby’s seen a bit too often lately, but he supposes Sam needs it to keep going. “I promise we’ll fix it, whatever we have to do.”
“Okay, okay hold your horses. Worse things have happened,” Dean says. “Even if I am in an old man.”
“You want me to fix you or not?” Bobby gives a grin, more for their benefit than because he believes it. “I’m happy to stay in this much younger, stronger-”
“More handsome...”
“Not as handsome as I used to be, body,” Bobby finishes. He pulls the hat firmer onto his head. “I think I know somewhere we can get some of these supplies.”
Sam’s pulling the book toward him and taking out his pen before Bobby’s finished his sentence. “Let’s go.”
*
“Have to change the mirror, I hate having to change the mirror.” Dean bashes his hand against the steering wheel, then gives a curse word that Bobby’s pretty sure has never come out of his mouth before - and Bobby knows a few curses.
Bobby catches Sam’s eye in the rearview and gives an over the top roll of his eyes. Sam gives a minute nod in return, then carries on chewing his lip and staring out the window.
“Just drive,” Bobby snaps, settling into the backseat, leaving Sam to his worries. All he can do is get them to Mahala and hope she’s got what they need.
He spends most of the drive stretching out his legs and making his hands into fists, getting used to how the skin feels. It’s tight at the edges, he’s too much water lapping into an overflowing bowl. It isn’t right and Bobby knows it will never feel right.
He still has to be able to move the body correctly though, and that means getting used to Dean’s more muscular frame.
“Where’s this place again?”
Bobby does a double take as he sees himself in the rearview, then curses.
Dean laughs. “Freaking you out too?” He shakes his head. “Man, it’s weird looking at myself. Not entirely unpleasant, but freaky.”
“We go left, right Bobby?” Sam interrupts, reaching for the map.
“Yeah next left and it’s at the end. Opposite a book store, I think.”
Dean slows to a halt in front of it and peers out of the door. “It’s this?”
Bobby grins and gets out of the car, his chest pulling as he does and drawing his hand to touch his stitches. Dean’s body definitely needs rest, despite its youth. He stares at the plain storefront, and the red “organic food” sign. “Yes, this is it. Used to be jewelry - all a front for the talismans she’d sell, then she started to provide me with rare herbs too.” He puts his hands on his hips. “Huh. Guess this is her new front.”
“Organic food. What’s wrong with ordinary food? That’s the kind of stuff you’d buy, Sam,” Dean mutters.
Sam swings ahead of them, his arms held stiffly by his sides. Bobby had hoped the tension would go once Dean came back. He overtakes Sam on the way into the store.
“How can I help you?” Mahala calls from the back. Bobby smiles as he watches her distractedly put some food packages away. Her long dark hair gets in the way and she ties it into a big knot before picking up a large box from the floor.
“We need…” Bobby coughs when he hears Dean’s voice coming out of his mouth. Dammit. “We need some of your other stock,” Bobby finishes lamely.
Mahala whirls around, the package falling out of her hand as she sees Bobby. She glances from him to Sam and Dean at the door, her eyes settling on Dean. Her face breaks into a smile. “Bobby! Why didn’t you say so?”
Bobby fixes himself to allow her a hug, but of course she brushes straight past him - not before she’s assessed him with one burning stare and a gleam in her eye she hasn’t ever used in all the years he’s known her - and throws her arms around Dean.
“It’s good to see you, Bobby.”
“And you too darlin’,” Dean drawls, pulling back and eyeing her up and down.
Mahala steps back. “Bobby? I…” She frowns.
“I’m here,” Bobby says. “That’s Dean. In my body. Learning how to behave himself, I hope.”
“What? I’m behaving. Just saying hello,” Dean says. He gives Mahala a wink and then a smile. “Hello,” he drawls.
To Bobby’s astonishment, Mahala giggles. She then glances over toward Bobby, and Bobby would swear she’s checking out his body.
It’s a face he’s not seen a woman wear in a while. It makes heat coil in his belly and causes him to fidget uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wants to get this fixed.
He also kind of doesn’t mind it.
“We’ve had a…soul switch. I need some supplies.” Bobby nods toward Sam and Sam draws their list out of his pocket.
“I’m Sam,” Sam says. “I’m in my right body. Right mind too.”
“Me too,” Mahala says. She walks up to Bobby and cocks her head to the side, making her hair come out of its loose hold and tumble to her shoulders. “That’s you in there? Well.” She stops short of hugging him. “I can sense it actually. Something’s off, something I can’t put my finger on. From you, yeah, but also…” She turns toward Dean and lifts her hand in the air, moving as if she’s making scratches down someone’s back. “More from you.”
“Well. We do think it’s my soul causing it.” Dean pokes at his chest, just below his heart.
“It’s more than that.” Mahala stares at Dean for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. She shakes her head, and reaches out for the list. “I’ll get the stuff for you.”
They all stare after her as she walks toward her back room. Bobby hears Dean give a low whistle. “Man, you didn’t say she was so hot Bobby.”
Sam pokes Dean’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re not trying to get her number.”
Dean sniffs. “I could get her number, Bobby’s body or-”
“You want this body back ever?” Bobby squashes that thought firmly out of Dean’s head. Mahala’s gaze felt good - exceptionally good - but there’s too much of a weird factor about it.
“It doesn’t matter.” Dean shrugs, reaches up to rub an arm that Bobby knows has got nothing wrong with it. “Let’s get this fixed.”
“It doesn’t matter? Getting laid doesn’t matter? Wait while I get a tape to record that.” Bobby can hear Sam’s worry without him having to say it, but still, they should keep their minds on the job.
“Shut up the pair of you,” Bobby says. “I can whup both your asses, whatever body I’m in.”
They both collapse their bodies, letting the pull of gravity drag everything toward the ground, even their lips. Bobby’s never seem himself appear so young.
Mahala’s eyes twinkle as she walks back into the room. “Here you go. Hope the spell works.”
“Us too,” Dean says.
“Come back and say hey when you’re all fixed sometime.” Mahala winks at Bobby, that same gleam appearing in her eyes. He blinks at her in confusion and she blushes, twines hair around a finger. “And always good to see you.”
“Thanks, Mahala. How’s the organic food cover going?”
“Not as good as the jewelry shop did, but okay.” She smoothes out her hair. “I prefer dealing in herbs on the black market and it’s a better cover. Keeps me off the streets.”
“So,” Dean says when they get outside, rubbing his hands together. “What does this spell involve exactly?”
*
“You want me to do what? Are you fucking joking? Did you lose your mind when we lost our bodies?”
“That’s what it says, Dean. I’m not making this up.” Sam’s voice takes the tone of a parent explaining something to a particularly difficult child.
Bobby clears his throat while Dean snatches the book out of Sam’s hands. “I’m not exactly thrilled about this either Dean.”
“The pair of you have cooked this up. You find it funny.” Dean jabs a finger in the air and takes it down to rest on the page. “Dammit. Fine.” Dean tosses the book back to Sam who catches it easily. Dean pulls his shirt off and frowns as he stares down at Bobby’s bare chest. “Man!”
Bobby glances across at Dean - at his own bare chest - and grins. “At least I get to do it wearing this body.”
“I’ll read the words while you two do the moves.” Sam leans up against the counter and frowns over the page.
“Frickin’ moves. What am I, Britney Spears?”
“Just get them right, Dean.”
“Let’s go over them,” Bobby says. “You recite the words, while we...”
“Dance around naked waving our hands around like a demented chicken! I’ve seen some pretty weird crap in my time but-“
“-this takes the cake. I know. It is a strange book.” Bobby takes off his shirt. They’re all quiet, and Bobby wills himself not to touch the stitches. “It might not work.”
“But we have to give it a try,” Sam says firmly. “You can’t stay in the wrong bodies forever. Then we can all wipe this experience from our minds and gouge our eyes out with a spoon.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dean says.
“And me.” Bobby eyes the muscular body he’s in for what he hopes is the last time. He wishes that he had longer to appreciate being young, then curses himself. Dean deserves to have his body back, and get used to being alive again. “Let’s do it.”
They remove the rest of their clothes and Bobby stares hard at his ceiling fan, willing himself not to look down at Dean’s body or across at his own. A very awkward silence takes over.
“Okay. Start the first move.” Sam’s voice is strangled. Bobby sneaks a peek over at him and he’s staring firmly at the book.
Bobby starts to wave his hands around as Sam instructs. He’s so busy trying not to fall over that he doesn’t pay attention to where Dean is, and they bang into each other, then leap about two feet apart. Sam fumbles over a few words, and Bobby would swear he’s swallowing back a laugh. Presumably he snuck a peek.
Sam reads through the piece twice then stops. “Dean? Bobby?”
“Nothing,” Bobby says. “You?”
“Zip. Nada. I’m still here.”
“It should have worked by now? Shouldn’t it?” Sam flicks through the book. “Bobby?”
“Yeah.” Bobby puts his head in his hands, starting when the cold metal of the ring touches his cheek. “Yeah it should have.”
*
They all return to the books, reading over spells they’ve already discarded as invention, or not what they need. Bobby refuses to discard his hope, and he knows it’ll be a long time before Sam or Dean do. They’ll find something.
If only it would come along a bit sooner. Bobby’s entire body aches, each individual stitch of time burns his chest, and the whole skin is too tight. He wants to crawl out of it and leave it behind. He wants to run away from it and be free again, back with those particles of light.
“We’ve been through this.” Dean pushes the book away so hard it bumps into Sam’s and Bobby sees Sam’s body tense.
“We might have missed something.”
“Between the two of you? We haven’t missed anything.”
Bobby takes his hat off and scratches the strangely spiky hair underneath. “I don’t think we have either. I need to think about other texts we could try and get hold of.”
“I’ll try online again.” Sam pulls his laptop toward him and Bobby ignores the shake of Sam’s hands when he flips it open. Bobby chews the inside of his mouth. It’s too much for these boys to cope with.
“I’ll get coffee,” Dean says. “I seem to need more in this body.”
“Please,” Bobby says. “I had a withdrawal headache after an hour. What do you put into this thing?”
“Don’t call that fine specimen a thing.”
“I’ll try another search.” Sam sounds overly bright and he types on the computer without watching the keys, as his gaze never falters from where Dean fills the kettle. “I will find something. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” Dean says. “You got me out of hell, you got me back in -- well, a body. You did good.” There’s that lightness again, the one that says Dean doesn’t quite mean it. It’s harder to find clues about whether Dean’s lying, ‘cause Bobby’s distracted by staring at his own face.
Bobby can’t help but think Dean’s worrying about the same thing Bobby is - how did Sam kill all those demons - but Bobby knows if it were relevant to getting Dean right again, Sam would mention it. First things first. Get Dean back in his proper body.
“No,” Bobby bites his lip. “We did our best with that spell to bring Dean back. I should’ve…” Bobby doesn’t want to get into that.
“What?” Sam says. “You should have what?”
“I should have stopped this earlier,” Bobby waves his hand around the three of them. He shouldn’t go into it but he can’t help it, there’s no energy left to keep it in. “You two, dying for each other. You two, doing whatever it takes. You gotta learn that sometimes, you have to let people go. Sometimes, life, things-” Bobby fiddles with Dean’s ring. It’s oddly comforting. “I’m older than you. Your Dad’s not around. I should’ve-”
“Bobby, whatever we did, we did,” Dean says. “And I know it’s not always worked out, but we’re both here.” Dean leans against the edge of the table, ignoring the whistling of the kettle. “That’s all that matters. Any of this other shit, that’s nothing.”
“No. Bobby, you’re like a father to us.” Sam leans forward earnestly.
“You're family.” Dean says firmly, in John’s voice that brooks no argument. He sits back down at the table and rests his hands flat on it.
“I guess.” Bobby gives Sam a smile and Sam grins back, a watery, wavering smile that’s put on for his benefit, but it’s there. Dean manages to stare, young and alive again out of Bobby’s own face. A weight lifts off Bobby’s shoulders that he wasn’t aware was there, making him free again. Maybe all he can do with these two is get them out of trouble.
There’s a welling inside his chest, an ocean inside him threatening to choke him and just when he thinks he can’t get any air, that’ll he’ll suffocate, the huge white light appears and envelops him again.
He wakes to the sound of Sam’s voice, far away, but clearly saying, “Dean? Bobby? Does this mean you two are back?”
Bobby sits up and stares across at Dean, who’s taking the hat off his head and throwing it onto the table. “Yes, we’re back.”
“Thank…” Sam frowns. “What made you go back? Did the spell work?”
“I’m not sure.” Bobby shrugs. “It could just have been a temporary problem with our other spell. It could be-” Bobby stretches out his arms. His skin is normal again, fits his skeleton perfectly. He’s no longer trapped.
“What?” Sam’s eyes are boring into Dean, leaving him only for a second to bore into Bobby.
“I felt relief, that’s when we swapped back. Maybe it was significant that you jumped into me.” Bobby flexes first one foot, then the other. Everything is working perfectly.
“Whatever, it’s over. Right?” Dean runs his hand through his hair and breaks into a wide smile.
“Right,” Sam replies.
Bobby hopes that that’s true.
***
Part 2 - Noel