Sammy

16. The Huntress

The following week was hell.  Melody and Sam were both raging around the house and crying during stupid T.V commercials, Bobby was swamped with both research and auto repairs, and Dean was trying to keep everyone else sane.  For seven days he basically took over as Bobby; cooking all the meals, taking calls from hunters, managing the house, and picking up any extra work that Bobby couldn't get to.  By the end of each day, he collapsed on his bed for a few hours of sleep before starting from the beginning the next morning.  He rejoiced the day when Sam and Melody stopped complaining for a full two hours--long enough for him to take a nap before starting dinner--and almost died of relief when they stopped reaching for the B12 every morning.

The following Saturday afternoon, Bobby received a call from some hunters in the Chicago area saying they needed to identify a monster that was killing men who attended a fairly popular bar.  Bobby accepted, naturally, but as soon as he hung up the phone he passed the buck to Dean.

"I don't have time to do research, boy, I'm up to my hat in work.  You need to start pulling your weight."

"Pulling my weight?!"  Dean gasped.  "Do you know what I do arou-"

"As a hunter Dean.  You need to start pulling your weight as a hunter.  You've been off the grid for two months-"

"Like you're any better," Dean muttered.

"I have another job.  It's the end of September, Dean, and you got here at the end of July.  Now I know you've been busy with Sam and Melody, but at some point you're going to have to get back into the game."  Dean was fuming; how could he go back on the promise he made for Melody's sake and later Sam's?  The promise that you made to her when you thought she was used as bait and Sam was dead.

"I made a promise to myself that I was done hunting for their sake.  They don't deserve this life and you've been campaigning for that to Dad since I was four.  What's so different now?  What changed in the four years that he dragged me across the country hunting every demon we could find to get something Sam?  The last thing you ever told him was to take a break and spend some time with me.  WHAT CHANGED?"  Dean's voice had deepened considerably and he was sure Sam and Melody could hear him.  He took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "You're not my Dad, Bobby, and I don't want you to be and, I dunno, you sounded a lot like him."

"I know Dean," Bobby said softly, "but you can't just quit the life altogether; you have to do something.  You don't always have to fight the fight, sometimes it's okay to just believe in the cause.  Look at me, you don't see me goin' cross country and shootin' anything that moves.  Sometimes I'll go, but usually I'm back here helping everyone else.  How many times do I get called to do research or pretend to be the FBI?  I'm not fighting, but I sure as hell ain't doin' nothing either."  There was a long and somewhat tense pause.  "We good?"  

"Yeah, yeah, we're good.  Where're the books?"  

"In the study, you idjit," Bobby chuckled. Dean nodded and walked out to get some more information on whatever the thing was.  Bar and a big city, that's something to go on.  "You miss it, don't you?" Bobby called after him.  Dean's eyes widened at the question and he turned around to face Bobby.

"What?  No!  Why would I miss..." Bobby gave him a knowing look and Dean flushed.  "Yes," he muttered, "just don't tell Sam and Melody."  He heard Bobby laugh lightly as he turned around.  Shaking his head and smirking to himself, Dean sauntered into the study.  He began ruling out certain topics as soon as he looked at the first shelf of books.  Werewloves, no.  Wendigo, no.  Witches, eh maybe.  Vengeful Spirit, not likely.  Vetala, sure.  Siren, yes.  Norse Tree Demons, um what?  Egyptian gods, can't be too careful.  Angels, the hell?  Before he knew it, Dean was waist-deep in possible answers to the identity of the monster.  He picked up a book on sirens and thumbed through it before realising that he would need a little more information than what he had been given.