Supernatural fic - "Saving Grace" (Part Eight)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
“Dean…”
From that one word alone, Dean knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Bobby Singer had to say. He would have liked nothing better than to ignore the older hunter, but two things made that pretty much impossible. One - Bobby was standing right next to him instead of talking to him over the phone. Two - Bobby was there helping them on a hunt that had proven more than the two Winchesters could handle, so he was kind of indebted to the guy… more than he usually was on a regular basis, anyway.
It didn’t help that Dean and Sam were working together about as well as cats and dogs. It still made Dean’s guts churn to work with Sam, the Soulless Wonder, but he had to think knowing where his brother was some of the time was less likely to drive him batshit crazy than not knowing any of the time. That was the theory of the week, anyway… Dean was taking things week by week, sometimes day by day when Sam was really setting off all Dean’s alarms.
They’d stumbled upon a hunt that was starting to look decidedly angelic… but not the good kind. It was a fucked up world where one had to differentiate between the good angels and the bad angels.
Dean’s calls to Cas for help had gone unanswered. It worried the shit out of Dean, especially since he’d had a tight feeling in his chest for the better part of a week, but he refused to let himself think about what Castiel might be doing to keep him busy. That left finding out which angel they were dealing with to the poor humans, and no one had more obscure knowledge on everything supernatural than Bobby Singer. Besides which, the hunt happened to take them close to Bobby’s… it was second nature to stop in and ask for some help.
Frankly, Dean felt relief getting to work with someone he didn’t think might sell him out for a soda, no matter how thirsty.
Sam was out at the library, digging through their old religious texts, while Dean and Bobby were poring through some of the old books Bobby got from Pastor Jim after Meg killed the padre. Dean was studying a drawing of the Archangel Michael, comparing it to the memory of his dreams of light-and-wind-Michael despite himself, when Bobby spoke.
“Yeah?” Dean asked warily.
“You remember when I griped you boys out about calling me with your complaints about the other?”
Dean stood upright immediately. “Hey now, Bobby… I haven’t bugged you once about that since you read us the riot act…”
“It wasn’t a riot act, it was some tough love, and you needed it. I’m not talking about you this time, as it happens. I’m talking about Sam.”
That made Dean frown. “Sam?”
“Yeah… kid’s called me a few times in the last month or so about you.”
“Why?”
“Says you’ve been acting weird.”
Dean closed the book he’d been looking at with a snort. “Don’t even try to make me believe he’s worried.”
“No,” Bobby scoffed bitterly, “he ain’t. Not worried, but he’s damn curious, and I got from him you’ve been giving him the brush off whenever he tries to pin you down about what’s going on with you.”
“Well, hell, wouldn’t you, Bobby? Fake Sam wants to have a heart to heart? I don’t think so.” Just the idea made his stomach roll and bile burn the back of his throat. He hated not having his brother.
Sam didn’t have any clue what was going on with his older brother, though not for a lack of trying. Sam had tried to get the truth out of Dean about what was ‘up’ with him by being upfront, but that was all kinds of not happening. Dean didn’t trust his brother any farther than he could throw him, and given what a giant freak of nature Sam was, that wasn’t very damn far.
No telling what the apocalypse-sowing angels would do if they found out Cas was hiding part of his grace in a puny human, and he wasn’t leaving that in the hands of a brother he couldn’t trust.
“Truthfully, I don’t blame you,” Bobby said, “and I didn’t appreciate Sam ‘pumping me for information’ like you were a case. Told him as much, too.”
“Yeah… he’s gotten pretty creepy with that. You should hear him talk to vics. And he used to say I sucked at being sympathetic.”
Bobby took off his trucker’s cap long enough to scratch at his scalp before setting it back on his head. “Since it was coming from Sam 2.0, I more or less ignored him. Figured your problem was his problem, the whole AWOL soul and all.”
“It is a big damn problem,” Dean concurred, not sure what the hell this had to do with anything.
“Yeah, well, now that I’ve seen you myself, worked side by side with you… I gotta say, Sam’s right.”
Dean stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Bobby looked closely at Dean… too familiar and too sharp. “You are different… can’t really put my finger on how. Sam called it ‘calm’, but that’s not it. More like… stillness.”
Which sounded a hell of a lot like some very similar, heavenly words: peaceful, serene, and a whole bunch of other shit that tough-as-nails Dean Winchester certainly was not.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“You got something you want to tell me, son? Something you don’t want Sam knowing?” Bobby was standing close, looking at him kindly, looking all the surrogate father that Dean had always considered him to be.
And he did want to tell him… he really did. Bobby he could talk to, Bobby would care.
But that little voice in the back of his head still advised discretion. It was a huge secret that Dean was keeping, and it wasn’t his secret.
But Bobby deserved some kind of answer.
“Listen… I don’t want Sam knowing about this, but I’ve kind of been helping Cas out with something lately.”
Bobby’s eyebrows rose. “That angel of yours? What’s he got to do with you acting strange?”
Dean had to resist the temptation to rest a hand over his own chest where he could feel the angel’s grace in him, comfortable and soft. “You know there’s a war going on up there.”
“Pretty damn hard not to.”
“Well… I’m just doing him a favor.”
That old hunter’s suspicion kicked in and Bobby looked dubious.
“Bobby,” Dean chided, “it’s Cas. It’s fine, but… don’t tell Sam.”
“And you’re not going to tell me exactly what’s going on?”
Dean winced. “No… not yet, anyway. But I’m fine, Bobby. Promise.”
Bobby harrumphed and turned back to the books. “Uh huh… fine, you don’t have to tell me, but don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face. Hell, who am I kidding… ‘course you’ll come crying to me. Idjit.”
Dean smiled to himself and pulled another book from the stack. Even if Bobby didn’t know any details, that he knew anything at all made Dean feel better. He wasn’t on his own quite so much anymore… Dean never did do ‘on his own’ very well.
Of course, the press of warm contentment in his chest, even when it ached, was a constant reminder to Dean that he was never alone. Not anymore.
And the truth was, he’d gotten used to that too damn fast.
Part Nine
“Dean…”
From that one word alone, Dean knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Bobby Singer had to say. He would have liked nothing better than to ignore the older hunter, but two things made that pretty much impossible. One - Bobby was standing right next to him instead of talking to him over the phone. Two - Bobby was there helping them on a hunt that had proven more than the two Winchesters could handle, so he was kind of indebted to the guy… more than he usually was on a regular basis, anyway.
It didn’t help that Dean and Sam were working together about as well as cats and dogs. It still made Dean’s guts churn to work with Sam, the Soulless Wonder, but he had to think knowing where his brother was some of the time was less likely to drive him batshit crazy than not knowing any of the time. That was the theory of the week, anyway… Dean was taking things week by week, sometimes day by day when Sam was really setting off all Dean’s alarms.
They’d stumbled upon a hunt that was starting to look decidedly angelic… but not the good kind. It was a fucked up world where one had to differentiate between the good angels and the bad angels.
Dean’s calls to Cas for help had gone unanswered. It worried the shit out of Dean, especially since he’d had a tight feeling in his chest for the better part of a week, but he refused to let himself think about what Castiel might be doing to keep him busy. That left finding out which angel they were dealing with to the poor humans, and no one had more obscure knowledge on everything supernatural than Bobby Singer. Besides which, the hunt happened to take them close to Bobby’s… it was second nature to stop in and ask for some help.
Frankly, Dean felt relief getting to work with someone he didn’t think might sell him out for a soda, no matter how thirsty.
Sam was out at the library, digging through their old religious texts, while Dean and Bobby were poring through some of the old books Bobby got from Pastor Jim after Meg killed the padre. Dean was studying a drawing of the Archangel Michael, comparing it to the memory of his dreams of light-and-wind-Michael despite himself, when Bobby spoke.
“Yeah?” Dean asked warily.
“You remember when I griped you boys out about calling me with your complaints about the other?”
Dean stood upright immediately. “Hey now, Bobby… I haven’t bugged you once about that since you read us the riot act…”
“It wasn’t a riot act, it was some tough love, and you needed it. I’m not talking about you this time, as it happens. I’m talking about Sam.”
That made Dean frown. “Sam?”
“Yeah… kid’s called me a few times in the last month or so about you.”
“Why?”
“Says you’ve been acting weird.”
Dean closed the book he’d been looking at with a snort. “Don’t even try to make me believe he’s worried.”
“No,” Bobby scoffed bitterly, “he ain’t. Not worried, but he’s damn curious, and I got from him you’ve been giving him the brush off whenever he tries to pin you down about what’s going on with you.”
“Well, hell, wouldn’t you, Bobby? Fake Sam wants to have a heart to heart? I don’t think so.” Just the idea made his stomach roll and bile burn the back of his throat. He hated not having his brother.
Sam didn’t have any clue what was going on with his older brother, though not for a lack of trying. Sam had tried to get the truth out of Dean about what was ‘up’ with him by being upfront, but that was all kinds of not happening. Dean didn’t trust his brother any farther than he could throw him, and given what a giant freak of nature Sam was, that wasn’t very damn far.
No telling what the apocalypse-sowing angels would do if they found out Cas was hiding part of his grace in a puny human, and he wasn’t leaving that in the hands of a brother he couldn’t trust.
“Truthfully, I don’t blame you,” Bobby said, “and I didn’t appreciate Sam ‘pumping me for information’ like you were a case. Told him as much, too.”
“Yeah… he’s gotten pretty creepy with that. You should hear him talk to vics. And he used to say I sucked at being sympathetic.”
Bobby took off his trucker’s cap long enough to scratch at his scalp before setting it back on his head. “Since it was coming from Sam 2.0, I more or less ignored him. Figured your problem was his problem, the whole AWOL soul and all.”
“It is a big damn problem,” Dean concurred, not sure what the hell this had to do with anything.
“Yeah, well, now that I’ve seen you myself, worked side by side with you… I gotta say, Sam’s right.”
Dean stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Bobby looked closely at Dean… too familiar and too sharp. “You are different… can’t really put my finger on how. Sam called it ‘calm’, but that’s not it. More like… stillness.”
Which sounded a hell of a lot like some very similar, heavenly words: peaceful, serene, and a whole bunch of other shit that tough-as-nails Dean Winchester certainly was not.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“You got something you want to tell me, son? Something you don’t want Sam knowing?” Bobby was standing close, looking at him kindly, looking all the surrogate father that Dean had always considered him to be.
And he did want to tell him… he really did. Bobby he could talk to, Bobby would care.
But that little voice in the back of his head still advised discretion. It was a huge secret that Dean was keeping, and it wasn’t his secret.
But Bobby deserved some kind of answer.
“Listen… I don’t want Sam knowing about this, but I’ve kind of been helping Cas out with something lately.”
Bobby’s eyebrows rose. “That angel of yours? What’s he got to do with you acting strange?”
Dean had to resist the temptation to rest a hand over his own chest where he could feel the angel’s grace in him, comfortable and soft. “You know there’s a war going on up there.”
“Pretty damn hard not to.”
“Well… I’m just doing him a favor.”
That old hunter’s suspicion kicked in and Bobby looked dubious.
“Bobby,” Dean chided, “it’s Cas. It’s fine, but… don’t tell Sam.”
“And you’re not going to tell me exactly what’s going on?”
Dean winced. “No… not yet, anyway. But I’m fine, Bobby. Promise.”
Bobby harrumphed and turned back to the books. “Uh huh… fine, you don’t have to tell me, but don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face. Hell, who am I kidding… ‘course you’ll come crying to me. Idjit.”
Dean smiled to himself and pulled another book from the stack. Even if Bobby didn’t know any details, that he knew anything at all made Dean feel better. He wasn’t on his own quite so much anymore… Dean never did do ‘on his own’ very well.
Of course, the press of warm contentment in his chest, even when it ached, was a constant reminder to Dean that he was never alone. Not anymore.
And the truth was, he’d gotten used to that too damn fast.
Part Nine