Snippets One Hundred Twenty-One 1995 V

        Bobby pulled into Singer Salvage midmorning of the next day.  Sam was asleep; his head against the passenger seat window.  Dean was still asleep in the rear seat.  Stopping the car, the hunter sat still for a few moments.  He was worried about Dean.  The boy idolized his father.  John Winchester was woefully misusing his son.  Shaking his head, Bobby Singer muttered, “Balls,” and opened the car door.  Sam woke, yawning.

        “Take your things up to your room, Sam.  Don’t forget Dean's.  He’s gonna need a few days to get back to his old self.  I’ll need you, Boy.”

        The younger boys murmured a response and opened the trunk to reach the duffels.  Bobby leaned into the back seat.  He checked Dean and spoke softly, “Dean?”

        The boy moaned and tried to stretch.  The hunter saw the wince on the young man’s face.  The hazel eyes opened and stared into the older man’s face.

        “Bobby?”  Castiel watched his charge carefully.

        “It’s okay, Dean.  You’re home.  I’m gonna kick his ass.  That’s if I don’t put bullet through his head.”

        Dean gasped as he sat up and leaned into the man’s arms.  Bobby held him close. 

        “Let’s get you inside and feed you something.  I bet you’re hungry.”

        “Yes, Sir.”

        Dean leaned heavily on the older man as the two walked towards the house.

        “Uncle Bobby?”

        “Yeah, Dean?”

        “Thanks for coming after me.”

        “You’re my boy, Dean.  There’s no way on this earth I would have left you there.”      

 

        The angel was the only one who heard the softly whispered, “Thank God,” followed by a slight sob.