Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Snippets One Hundred Twenty-Two: Healing Time
Two days had passed. Dean spent his time fishing. Sam lived among Bobby’s books. There had been no word from John. The older hunter knew the injured boy was worried there was no communication. Sooner or later he would have to tell the boy his father had not been called. Bobby felt that Dean needed time to heal.
After dinner, Dean washed the dishes. The hunter drank a cup of coffee and watched the boy.
Bobby watched the young man’s shoulders stiffen. He shook his head and sighed.
“Come sit down, Son.”
“I need to get these dishes done.”
“They’ll wait, Boy.”
The young Winchester sat at the table across from the older man. The bruises were healing and had turned to shades of green and yellow. The cuts were almost gone. He sat quietly at the table, hands clutching each other, and his head bowed.
“I’ve decided not to give you two back to your father.”
The head came up with a look of surprise on his face.
“You can’t do that, Sir. Dad needs us!”
“Dean, your brother keeps running away. He beat the shit out of you! He left you injured for a week and never entered house to check on you when he brought your brother back. If he needs you he’s not showing it. You could have died, boy.”
“I can’t do that to him, Uncle Bobby. I can’t. He’s taught me everything I know. He wants me to hunt with him after school.”
“Tell me, Dean. How is school?”
The head bowed again, and the boy didn’t answer.
“Did you pass?”
“I missed too much school. I had to spend my time taking care of things while Dad’s gone. Sammy has got to have good grades. I couldn’t do all that and find time to study. I’m hunting some with Dad now. Not all the time, but short hunts.”
“You like hunting.”
“Yeah, I think I do. The kids at school aren’t seeing real life like I am. This is important.”
“So is school, Dean. You don’t realize now, but you’ll regret it later. I promise you.”
“Dad said we were gonna stay where we were so I could catch up and finish school.”
“Well, you can’t go back there now.”
Dean rose and turned back to the sink to finish the dishes.
“He’ll figure something out,” the boy spoke calmly as picked up a fork and began to wash it.
Bobby got up in frustration and left the room. Castiel, sitting at the table watched the boy in surprise. This was not the boy who whispered, “thank God” and sobbed softly. He shook his head, knowing that John had his hooks in deep. Dean would do whatever his father wanted.