Honey-Trapped 10/?
Chapter 10
After Benny was gone, Bobby stood in the middle of the living room and had no idea what to think or to do next.
He was pretty sure that Benny had told him more than he'd intended and most likely more than he should have. Bobby blamed it on the late hour, it was way after midnight by now, and whatever had happened on that ominous scene Benny had called Sam in to.
Benny had tried to back-paddle but Bobby didn't fall for that for one second. Benny was convinced that Sam had been there that night. That he'd been hurt badly enough for Dean to think that he was dead. Why Dean had called Benny of all people Bobby didn't know but that was one of the questions he intended to ask him in the morning.
But Sam was hurt and, Bobby's feelings for him aside, that had priority right now. Like Benny had predicted neither Sam nor Dean came back out of the bedroom so Bobby climbed the stairs and then stood in front of the door, unsure if he should knock or not. He wanted to check on them, more for Dean's benefit than Sam's but still.
He heard water running and muffled voices.
"Dean?" Bobby knocked on the door. "Sam? Everything alright?"
Dean said something that sounded suspiciously like "fuck" and a long moment later he opened the door. He didn't invite Bobby in and he blocked the door with his body.
"Is Sam okay?" Bobby asked, trying to catch a glimpse on the injured man but couldn't see much past Dean. Sam was probably still in the bathroom anyway.
"He's fine." Dean assured him with a tired smile. "Just a scratch, looked worse than it is."
"There was quite some blood." Bobby pointed out.
"Don't worry, he just needs to sleep it off." Dean tried to dismiss it.
There was a snort coming from the bathroom and then Sam came into view. His hair was wet and he was only wearing a bathrobe which he'd wrapped tightly around his body.
"Like Dean said." Sam stepped closer so that Bobby had a better view on him and he couldn't shake off the feeling that that was the intention behind this. To give him proof that he was in fact fine and not bleeding to death or something like that. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."
He did look tired, Bobby had to admit, and not in the content could use a nap after he got the cream way. He had dark smudges under his eyes and his face almost looked hollow as if he'd lost a few pounds over the last couple of hours but that could just be the lighting.
"Look." Dean shifted which brought him more between Sam and Bobby, if intentional or not Bobby couldn't tell. "I know you have a lot of questions but it's been a long day and we're all tired." He ran a hand over his mouth. "Can this wait until tomorrow?"
Bobby wanted to say no. He needed some answers and he needed them now but one look at Dean's pleading eyes and he caved. Dean had never been good at asking for the things he wanted. Not even for the things he needed. It had taken Bobby years to convince Dean that he did deserve something nice once in a while so every time Dean did ask for something, Bobby just couldn't say no.
"Sure." He said. "We'll talk tomorrow. Good night."
"Thanks, man. You're the best." Dean flashed him a grin which didn't quite reach his eyes but Bobby gave him a nod and went over to his room.
Doors closed and Bobby was once again alone with his thoughts.
He was too awake to go to sleep so he took out his laptop. If Sam and Dean didn't give him answers he could at least look for some online.
He had googled Sam before but it was a good point to start so he did it again. There were still only a few hits coming up. No big scandals and not much social media either. Who of Sam's age didn't have facebook?
The first time he'd done this Bobby had felt relieved when he hadn't found anything about an ex talking about his abusive boyfriend or worse articles about Sam being convicted in that regard.
Looking at it now, it seemed odd. Sam's name came up once or twice but not as often as it should. There was almost nothing not work related and even that information was sketchy at best. Hell, Bobby got more hits for himself than for Sam.
Next he tried "Benjamin Lafitte". He was in fact a cop, that much Bobby found out, but that was all the information he got. There was nothing personal and even the last name alone didn't bring up more. If his folks owned some businesses in the city like Dean had said, their name wasn't Lafitte. Which didn't have to mean anything.
Bobby sat on his bed, laptop on his stretched out legs, and tried to make sense out of this. For a moment he let his mind run wild which promptly came up with things like witness protection and undercover agents. He stopped himself at sleeper terrorists, that was just ridiculous.
However, it was like they had names and jobs but there wasn't really a person behind that. As if it was some kind of fake identity.
He would have let it slide if it had been only one of them but both? Bobby didn't believe in coincidence.
He shut the laptop and turned off the light. His mind had now settled on gang members on the run which sounded like the most likely option so far. If someone from their past had caught up with Benny it made sense that he would call Sam to help him cleaning up the mess.
It sounded more like an action thriller than reality and Bobby really hoped that he would get a better explanation in the morning.
In the quiet of the room the noises from the other bedroom carried louder and Bobby rolled his eyes. At least they tried to tune it down this time but there were still unmistakable sex noises coming from their room.
"He can't be hurt that badly." Bobby mumbled and drew the blanket over his head.
Bobby woke late that morning but he wasn't the last one in the kitchen.
"Coffee?" Sam offered him a cup which he took with a muttered "thanks"and then sat down at the table.
Over the rim of his cup he watched Sam who was in the middle of mixing something in a bowl and didn't pay much attention to Bobby. He looked fine today and didn't move like he was in pain. Maybe Dean had been right and all Sam had needed was a good night's sleep. And judging by the noises he had heard last night some special Dean r&r.
"Dean's still sleeping?" Bobby asked when he didn't see the other man around. He could be working downstairs but somehow he doubted it. It had been a long day.
"Hmm." Sam answered, busy with the pancake batter if Bobby wasn't mistaken. A little too busy. He was probably waiting for the questions Bobby had. However, Bobby had no idea where to even start.
The oil in the pan was already smoking when Sam deemed the batter ready.
"You think that's a good idea?" He asked but Sam was already pouring a good amount into the pan.
The next second they were coughing smoke and Sam jumped away from the stove to avoid the sizzling drops of oil and batter flying around.
"Shit." With his long arm and a towel he managed to dump the pan in the sink, almost setting the towel on fire in the process, and then he turned the kitchen into a sauna by turning on the water.
Sam waved the towel around to clear the smoke and the steam which didn't help at all but was fun to watch.
Bobby bit back a laugh but couldn't hide his amusement. Sam just stood there like a lost puppy.
"Dean is going to kill me." He finally said with a look around the trashed kitchen. He was probably right. But then he shrugged and his face lit up. "Cereal?"
"You don't intent to cook it, right?" Bobby asked, finally understanding why Dean did all the cooking around here. How Sam had survived before Dean had moved in was beyond him.
Sam fixed them two bowls without burning them and then sat down opposite to Bobby.
"You want to know what happened last night." Sam approached the topic without prompting.
"Some answers would be nice for a change." Bobby stood up to refill their cups while Sam tried to figure out where to start.
"Before I met Dean." He gave Bobby a look as if he expected him to correct him there but for once Bobby just made an impatient gesture for him to continue.
"Before I met him I was a regular in most of the clubs downtown. I was out almost every weekend and sometimes during the week as well." He grew more comfortable with the topic but Bobby got the feeling that he'd practiced this little speech. "I know the scene. The regulars and the troublemakers. I know the people who work there and I know the ones who sell drugs and sex." He paused for a moment, waiting for Bobby's reaction. Bobby wasn't sure where this was heading but so far he didn't detect a lie. He did however wonder how Sam had gotten to know about the sex and the drugs.
"There had been a murder last night." Sam said quietly, rolling his cup between his hands.
That had been high on Bobby's list of possible scenarios but hearing it like this made it real. Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"So your cop friend called you?" He asked when Sam stayed silent for too long. "For what? To look at the scene and tell him who did it?" That seemed a bit far fetched.
"Something like that." Sam admitted almost sheepishly.
"Don't they have, I don't know, informants in the scene?" He had no idea how things like this worked. He doubted that it worked like it did on CSI and the bits he got from Sheriff Mills had been more about drunk drivers and catching juvenile troublemakers.
"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Me for example."
It made sense. It didn't answer all of his questions but it did make sense. Maybe Sam was just that good at lying but Bobby had the feeling that he was telling the truth. Just not all the truth.
"And the one who did it, do you know her?" For some reason it seemed more likely that Sam knew the perpetrator than the victim. Bobby might have been a bit biased here, he had to admit.
"Not personally but I know her kind."
Whatever that meant.
Sam stood up to put the empty bowls in the dish washer, clearly done with this topic.
"Why didn't you tell me that you were there when John came back?" Bobby dropped the bomb and Sam almost dropped the bowl.
Slowly Sam turned around.
"Why didn't you or Dean tell me that you were hurt so badly that Dean thought you were dying?"
Sam gaped at him, lost for words.
"How …?" Was the only thing he managed to get out but that was enough to confirm that he had been there.
"Your cop friend has been a bit chatty last night." Bobby took a sip of his coffee. "Told me that John almost killed you."
Sam had been prepared to explain last night but this came out of the blue and it threw him off completely.
"He didn't hurt me that bad." Sam dismissed his injury with a wave of his hand. "It wasn't important. Dean had just shot his own father, that was important. Besides, you didn't want me to stay there so we figured …" He made a helpless gesture.
It didn't make sense. One of the things Bobby had held against him was that Sam hadn't been there when Dean had needed him the most. So why hadn't they just told him? Why make it such a secret?
Bobby opened his mouth to ask exactly that but somebody was quicker.
"What the hell did you do to my kitchen?"
Chapter 11
Masterpost