~*****~
"I'm sure Sam is fine, Dean..." I murmur as I follow after him towards the only bar for miles. My nose crinkled up in irritation at the stale scent of cigarettes that stuck in the air. Dean gazed around for a moment before surging in, beelining for his brother.
"There you are. What are you doing?" Dean asks urgently as I just shake my head at him.
Sam shrugged. "Having a drink." He says normally.
"It's two in the afternoon. Drinking whiskey?" Dean asks.
"I drink whiskey all the time." Sam retorts.
"No, you don't." Dean immediately barks.
"What's the big deal? You get sloppy in bars. You hit on chicks all the time. Why can't I?" Sam asks.
Dean chuckles and scratches at his chin. "First of all, I haven't hit on any chick lately, and secondly, it's kind of slim pickings around here."
I slap at his arm. "Don't be rude." I hiss urgently.
"What's going on with you?" Dean ignored me.
Sam shook his head for a moment before sighing. "I tried, Dean."
"To do what?" He asks.
"To save you."
Dean sighs and pulls the chair out to take a seat. I pull out the other and perch on the stool. "Can I get two whiskeys? Double, neat." Dean orders our drinks, and I quickly signal the bartender to bring me a soda instead. She nods and trots off.
"I'm serious, Dean."
"No, you're drunk." Dean quickly says.
"I mean, where you're going...." Sam trails off. "What you're gonna become.... I can't stop it. I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is, no one can save you."
"What I've been telling you--"
"No, that's not what I mean." Sam stops him. "I mean, no one can save you because you don't want to be saved. I mean, how can you care so little about yourself? What's wrong with you?"
My cell chirps in my pocket and I quickly step away to answer it. "Hello?" I hum softly.
"Hello, is this Mrs. Reba Snyderson?" A woman chirps into the phone.
"Yes, it is."
"I'm calling on behalf of Robert Snyderson, he's in a comatose state, and he's listed you as his emergency contact." The woman hums.
"What?!" I yelp. "Where?!"
"Baby, what's wrong?" I hear Dean ask urgently.
I snap the phone shut after getting the address. "Bobby's in trouble--" I snap. "Get the lead out-- now!"
Sam and Dean share a look before running out after me.
~*****~
I feel as if my face is blotchy as I sit at Bobby's bedside, combing my fingers over his hair. "So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asks.
"We've tested everything we can think to test." The doctor says. "He seems perfectly healthy."
"He's comatose," I hiss. "How is that healthy?"
"Mrs. Snyderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"
I shake my head. "No, he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch a cold." I express.
"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" Sam asks.
The doctor sighs. "Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it, so we don't know how to treat it. He just... Went to sleep, and didn't wake up."
I start sniffling roughly again before pressing a delicate kiss to Bobby's forehead. "What the hell have you gotten up to?" I wonder softly.
"Come on, baby... Let the doctors look over him." Dean urged as he rubbed at my shoulders. I nodded swiftly and swallowed the knot in my throat before following after him.
~*****~
"So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked as we entered Bobby's motel room.
"I don't know, unless he was taking an extremely lame vacation." Dean says.
I sigh. "He must've been working a job, right?" I ask.
"Well, you'd think there'd be some sort of sign of something, you know?" Dean states. We start pulling open the drawers, searching for anything in particular. "Research. News clippings. A friggin' pizza box or a beer can."
I opened up the closet and hummed thoughtfully before switching on the lights. "This man is so clever--" I mention. "Why haven't we thought of this?" I ask curiously.
"Thought of what?" Sam asks as he approaches from behind.
I shove Bobby's clothes to the side and reveal the large board. "This." I hum.
"Good old bobby-- always covering up his tracks." Dean compliments.
"You make heads or tails of any of this?" Sam asks me.
I hum curiously as I lean over to get a closer look. "Silene Capensis..." I hum. "I've never heard of this one before..."
"Here, Obit." Sam states as he tugs off a news clipping. "Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist."
"How'd he bite it?" Dean asks.
"Uhm... actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up." Sam explains.
"That sound familiar to you?" Dean asks.
Sam hums. "All right, so, let's say Bobby was looking into the Doc's death, you know, hunting something--"
"That started hunting him."
"Yeah."
"All right, you two stay here. See if you can make heads or tails of this." Dean instructs as I continue to gaze at the board.
"What're you gonna do?" I ask distractedly.
"I'm gonna look into the good doctor myself." Dean says.
~*****~
I'm still nose deep in an herbology book as we make our way towards Bobby's hospital room. "How is he?" I ask as we step in. I stash the book in my bag before hurrying to Bobby's side.
"No change," Dean sighs. "What you got?"
I sigh as I perch on the bed besides Bobby. "Well, considering what you told me about the doctor's experiments, Bobby's wall started making a hell of a lot of sense." I explain.
"How so?" Dean asks.
"This plant--" I crack open the herbology book again. "Silene Capensis, also known as African Dream Root-- it's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries."
"Let me guess-- they dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, and start kicking around the hacky." Dean states.
I snort. "Not quiet, baby. If you believe the legends, it's used for Dream-Walking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads."
"I take it we believe the legends." Dean hums.
"When don't we?" Sam asks. "But dream-walking is just the tip of the iceberg."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this dream root is some serious mojo." Sam states. "You take enough of it, with enough practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You can turn bad dreams good. You could turn good dreams bad."
"And killing people in their sleep." Dean retorts.
"For example." Sam nods. "So, let's say this doc was testing the stuff on his patients Tim Leary-style."
"Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night."
"But what about Bobby?" I ask. "I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?"
Dean sighed through his nose. "I don't know."
I brush at Bobby's hair again with a sigh. "We should get going." I mention. Sam and Dean nod before following me out.
"So, how are we going to catch the homocidal sandman?" Dean asks.
"It could be anyone." Sam says.
"Yeah?" Dean asks. Sam nods. "Anyone who knew the doctor, had access to his dream shrooms."
"Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" I ask.
"Possible, but his research is pretty sketchy. I mean, we don't know how many subjects he had or who all of them were." Dean explains. Sam scoffs. "What?"
Sam sighed heavily. "In any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now."
Dean stopped us. "You know what, Sam, you're right." Dean gasps. Sam and I share a confused glance. "Let's go talk to him."
"Uh, Dean. The conversation is gonna be a little one sided." I mention.
"Not if we're tripping on some dream root." Dean suggests.
"What?" Sam and I chirp.
"You heard me." Dean says.
"You want to go dream-walking inside Bobby's head?" Sam asks.
"Yeah, why not? Maybe we can help." Dean suggests again.
"We have no idea what's crawling around in there." Sam states.
"How bad could it be?" Dean asks.
"Bad!" I answer.
"C'mon, it's Bobby." Dean says.
I purse my lips as Dean starts using those pleading eyes and I immediately fold like a cheap suit. "Yeah... you're right." I growl after a moment. "I hate having to call that bitch."
"Who?" Sam asks.
"Well for one thing, I know we don't have any African Dream Root sitting around, and I know one person who could get us some within the hour." I explain.
"Who?" Sam asks again.
"Bela."
"Bela? Oh, crap." Sam and Dean both sigh.
"You're actually suggesting we ask her for a favor?" Sam asks.
I shudder. "Look, my skins crawling just thinking about it, but yeah."
I hear both Sam and Dean groan as I stalk past them.