The Future is Now

Part 23

It was quiet and Dean was spending another night in bed alone. He kept to the left side of the bed, leaving room for another person. A Sam shaped person. He sighed, he was being pathetic but it hurt to think about anything else.

Bobby was still working downstairs even though it was gone midnight and Dean could hear him wandering around every one in a while. For an old house, these floors are relatively thin.

---

The click of a keyboard was echoing around the house and combated the invading silence. The darkness always seemed to bring the silence with it like an accomplice. They went hand in hand. Bobby often contemplated these things at 2:58am. He liked to think of himself as a thinker; an occasional deep man.

His eyes had been straining against the alarming brightness of the screen for the passed hour but he still worked. He wasn't exactly fast with this technology but he could handle the Google and even considered himself a master in deleting emails (a trick Dean had been taught him) but he still preferred the comfortable reliability of a good old book.

He stretched, listening as his back clicked several times, and yawned while rubbing a hand under his cap. Today had been a long day especially since Dean seemed to retreat to his room just minutes before Bobby had the call to help with this case. He didn't have the heart to call the man back down.

THUMP!

The noise was loud, echoing through the crisp silence. Suddenly alert, Bobby extracted the gun from where he'd stashed it in the drawer. Silence continued like there'd been no disturbance at all. Bobby remembered the sound though, it wasn't a trick of the late hour. It was somewhat similar to a sack of potatoes being dumped onto his floorboards.

He rose quietly, aware that any sound could reveal his position.

The study was empty, no demons, werewolves or other nasties to be seen. It was hard to make out shapes in the dark as shadows moved. He stepped carefully, glad he remembered where the squeaky floorboards were. Living in one place for so many years had its advantages.

Breathing shallow, Bobby searched the rest of the house only to find nothing. The source of the bump was a mystery and Dean was even sleeping restlessly. It was only a hunch that got him to check the front porch.

----

The body was a surprise, to say the least. Crumpled on his door man was a young man, eyes closed. There seemed to be no movement, his chest not visibly moving and no sign of him waking up. Was he dead? Drugged?

The toe of his boot nudged the man carefully. The man didn't rouse. He nudged harder but the man still remained unconscious.

Crouching down, Bobby used the muzzle of the gun to lift the boy's chin slightly. A strand of brown hair flopped away from the man's face revealing him. It was almost as though Bobby recognized him but couldn't reach the memory.

It took a moment for the old hunter to come up with a theory and he was sceptical but he tried it out anyway.

"Dean!" He hollered, not having to worry about neighbors. "Come 'ere, boy!"

There was the sound of movement from upstairs as Dean pulled himself from the warm embrace of bed. Hands on hips, Bobby stood staring down at the collapsed boy with a crease in his brow. The stairs squeaked as Dean descended.

"What d'ya want, Bobby? It's like 3 in the morning." He groaned as he walked towards where the old man was standing on the porch. What the hell was he doing standing out there at this time?

"This your boy?" The gruff man asked with a point of his gun.

Dean sped up and was at the door in milliseconds. He was on his knees barely moments after that. His hands were grabbing at Sam trying to pull him up, off the night-chilled floor. Pulling him into his lap, Dean hugged him close.