Fic: What Good Does Talking Do?
Title: What Good Does Talking Do? Chapter 4/?
Author: ravenalisa
Rating: eventually NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Through 7.5 but based on a fake spoiler for 7.8.
Warnings: language, sexual content
Summary: Bobby and Sam find a way to bring Castiel back but they’ll need Dean’s help.
What Good Does Talking Do? Masterpost
Chapter Four
“Sam? You okay boy?” Bobby asked as he entered the room seeing Sam leaning over a book unmoving.
Sam didn’t look away from the book, almost as if he was afraid it would disappear if he let it out of his sight.
“Bobby,” Sam took a deep calming breath, “Can you come over here and tell me if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“How in blazes,” Bobby placed a plate of sandwiches on his desk before stepping across the room, “would I know what you think you’re seeing you idj- oh,” Bobby’s sarcastic remark died on his lips. Leaning down he picked up the book and began to pace the room while reading.
“Bobby?”
Bobby paused his pacing and looked up from the book, “It sure looks like the mark on Dean’s arm.”
“But what does it mean? Can we use it?” Sam asked hopefully.
“We’ll need to research a bit more to see if it’ll actually be of any use, but it seem that your idjit brother got himself engaged to a freaking angel,” Bobby chuckled.
“Engaged?!?”
“Yep. Seems Castiel’s handprint is the equivalent of an angelic engagement ring,” Bobby smirked, imagining Dean’s face if he knew.
“How is it that we didn’t know about this before?”
“I haven’t had this book for long, it came from Rufus’ place. He left all his hunting things to me.”
Sam’s face dropped, “Sorry Bobby. Maybe if I-”
“No,” Bobby cut him off. “Do not blame yourself. Even if you’d been at 100% there’s nothing more you could have done. Rufus went out the way most hunters expect to, heck the way most hunters want to.”
Sam nodded, but Bobby figured he was probably still beating himself up about it. After all, he was a Winchester.
“Here,” Bobby handed Sam the book, “seems to be a whole section on it. Read up. I’m hungry.”
Bobby headed back towards his sandwiches, “Ham and cheese. Want one?”
“Yeah, thanks Bobby,” Sam settled back in the chair, holding the book propped against the armrest with one hand while eating his sandwich.
“Where’d Dean run off to?” Bobby asked around a mouthful of food.
Sam waited until he finished chewing and swallowed before answering, “Left his keys so he’s either working on the Impala or bashing up some of your junkers. He stomped out after telling me we’re going hunting tomorrow.”
“Huh,” Bobby scratched his head thoughtfully, “not really surprised that he’s going batty just sitting around. Boy never did like research in the first place.”
With the exception of an occasional giggle from Sam, Sam and Bobby worked in silence after finishing their sandwiches, Sam reading the book and Bobby glancing through his other research materials to see if they had anything else on angel marriage.
Both men jumped as they heard the screen door open. Sam quickly shut the book he was reading and slid it under the seat cushion, grabbing a book on ancient myths that he’d kept close in case Dean asked what he was reading.
“Dean,” Bobby called out, “there’s a couple of sandwiches in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
A couple of seconds later they heard a muffled, “Thanks Bobby.”
Less than a minute later Dean entered the room holding one sandwich in each hand. “Fin anythin?” he asked, mouth stuffed with food.
“Not yet,” Sam answered. “Bobby just got a couple more books in,” he lied. “I think it would be a good idea for me to help him go through them while you look for a new case for us?”
Dean intentionally took another large bite before responding, he knew Sam hated it when he talked with his mouth full, “Sounds good.”
“Gross Dean!”
Dean grinned widely, taking extra care to be as gross as possible, squishing food between his teeth before swallowing. “Sorry Samantha,” Dean smirked unrepentantly, “didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
Sam hurled the mythology book at Dean, feigning annoyance when Dean managed to catch it without so much as smashing a sandwich.
It was times like this when Sam thought, for just a moment, that Dean was going to be alright. Then he’d notice something…in this case the slight sway to Dean’s stance. He’d been drinking. Again.
“Hey,” Sam did his best to affect an air of nonchalance, “why don’t you take the bed tonight?” A hungover Dean is bad enough but he’d be as irritable as a wendigo in the morning if his back was sore from sleeping on the couch. “I wanna finish going through this book before I go to bed.”
“‘k Sammy,” Dean tossed the book back to Sam. “Night.”
“Night son.”
“Goodnight Dean.”
Sam waited until he could hear Dean shuffling around upstairs before bringing the book he was really interested in out from under the cushion.
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