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“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked, crawling into Dean’s bed. They were staying in a shitty motel on their way to Bobby’s house and John was having a bad night.
“Yeah, Sammy, I’m okay,” Dean responded, wincing as he rolled over to face his little brother.
Sam had tears shining in his eyes, though Dean guessed they were from anger and not from the screaming match Dean and John just had.
“Hey, it’s fine. He left for the night and won’t bother us again, okay?” Dean said, swiping a thumb under Sam’s eye.
“Why does he have to push you around?” Sam sniffled. “I can’t wait til I’m all grown up so I can push him back.”“No Sam, you won’t push him back. Stop being dramatic.” Dean groaned as he sat up, his side aching as he moved. “You need to go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired anymore,” Sam whined, curling up next to Dean.
“Too bad, so sad. Now lie down and close your eyes.” Dean pulled the blankets up to Sam’s chin and crawled out of bed. He went quietly into the bathroom and closed the door to make sure the light didn’t keep Sam awake.
Biting his lip, Dean pulled his shirt up. There was a gash on his side from where John had pushed him up against the table and broken a plate. It had stopped bleeding but still hurt like a bitch. He dug through the med kit and found a gauze pad and some antiseptic ointment, smearing the gauze with the paste before sticking it over the wound. Maybe that would make it stop hurting.
Turning out the light, Dean made his way back to bed and crawled in beside Sam.
“De?” Sam asked quietly.
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah Sammy?”
“Do you think we can stay at Uncle Bobby’s for awhile?”
“I hope so,” Dean whispered back, wrapping an arm around his little brother.
“Hey boys!” Bobby said when John pulled up the driveway.
“Hi Uncle Bobby!” Sam exclaimed, running across the yard to give Bobby a hug. Dean was much slower to follow and was moving like he was sore.
“Your old man been working ya too hard?” Bobby asked, ruffling Dean’s hair.
“Yeah, something like that,” Dean replied.
Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean kicked him in the shin and nudged him toward the door.
Bobby raised his eyebrows but said nothing, turning instead to watch John carry their duffle bags across the yard. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, not too bad,” John answered, lugging the bags into the living room.
Dean and Sam were camped out on the couch when John told them he was going to leave them with Bobby for awhile. Dean had to pinch Sam to keep him from smiling too big.
“Behave yourselves and mind what your Uncle Bobby says,” John instructed, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he walked towards the door.
“Nice of him to say goodbye,” Sam snarked, folding his arms over his chest.
“Go give him a hug if it bothers you so much,” Dean shot back, not feeling up to dealing with Sam’s attitude.
Sam rolled his eyes and got off the couch to go upstairs, leaving Dean room to spread out. He pulled a blanket over himself and got comfortable, watching the news that Bobby had playing on TV.
He woke up to Bobby’s eyes boring a hole in the back of his head. Glancing at the clock, Dean noticed that he’d been asleep a little over three hours. His head felt like it was full of lead and his side was still pretty painful, so he sat up slowly before looking over at Bobby’s desk.
“You okay?” Bobby asked, watching the older boy carefully. It wasn’t at all like Dean to take a nap; especially not for three hours.
Clearing his throat before he spoke, Dean nodded. “Yeah, just tired I guess.” He stood up with a grimace and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He raised his eyebrows when he saw that Bobby was still watching him when he retuned to the living room. “What?”
“Just trying to figure out what’s wrong with ya,” Bobby shrugged. He looked Dean over again, taking in how pale he was and the flush high on his cheeks, along with the way he was favoring his left side. The way Sam acted like he wanted to say something about how hard John was working Dean flashed into Bobby’s mind and he squinted his eyes like it would help him see through Dean’s tough demeanor.
Dean rolled his eyes and sat back down on the couch, wincing as he did so.
Of course Bobby noticed. “All of our lives would be easier if you would just tell me what’s wrong with ya.”
Dean sipped at his water while he thought about how to respond. Bobby was right, it would be easier to tell Bobby what had happened. On one hand, Dean didn’t want to put John in a bad light. Dean had made him angry, it wasn’t like the argument was unprompted. But, on the other hand, Dean was starting to feel like shit. The longer he was awake, the foggier his head felt. If he told Bobby that, though, he would seem like a baby for complaining about feeling a little sick.
“Well?” Bobby asked, pulling Dean from his thoughts.
Dean sighed and looked down at the glass in his hands. “Don’t feel too good.”
Bobby leaned back in his chair and felt his eyebrows pull together with concern. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Mostly just have a headache. ‘M a little cold,” Dean admitted, pulling the blanket around him again as a shiver ran through his body.
“Want some Tylenol?” Bobby stood up and went over to the couch. He gently reached out to feel Dean’s cheek for fever, pausing when Dean flinched as Bobby’s hand came near him. He filed that away to figure out later and rested the back of his hand on Dean’s cheek. “You’re a little warm.”
“Think I’m just tired,” Dean said, looking up at Bobby from where he was sitting.
“Take the damn pills anyway, ya idjit.” Bobby grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from his desk and shook two pills into his hand. “Here,” he said, giving them to Dean. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a bit? You’ll be more comfortable up there.”
Dean nodded, swallowing down the medicine. Groaning a bit as he stood, he made his way up the stairs to the room he and Sam shared.
“Whatcha up to?” Dean asked, sitting on his bed.
Sam was reading on his own bed and glared at Dean for interrupting him. “What does it look like?”
“Sorry,” Dean responded, pulling back the blankets and curling up underneath them.
“You okay?” Sam asked, watching his brother carefully.
“Just tired Sammy,” Dean answered, his eyes drifting shut.
“Hey, you hungry yet?” Bobby asked when Sam came downstairs. It was about dinner time and Bobby wanted to give the boys a few good meals before John came back to pick them up.
“Yeah, I’m starving!” Sam said, following Bobby into the kitchen. He loved helping Bobby cook and it was one of his favorite things to do when they visited him.
“I got some stuff to make chicken parmesan, I know that’s your favorite.”
Sam smiled from ear to ear as he washed his hands.
“You noticed anything weird about Dean lately?” Bobby asked casually. He handed Sam a cutting board and a knife before digging through the fridge for some chicken.
“What about him?” Sam busied himself trimming the chicken and cutting it into three pieces.
“You know what’s wrong with his side?”
Sam paused and glanced over at Bobby. “He probably doesn’t want me to tell you.”
“I won’t be mad, I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Bobby set a pot on the stove and poured some pasta sauce into it. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Sam, but he knew that Sam was usually pretty telling. “I noticed that he flinched when I reached out to touch his cheek earlier. What’s up with that?”
“He and Dad got into a bit of a fight the other day. He said it was no big deal but I think Dad hurt him pretty bad.” Sam paused to chew on his lip. “There’s a bad cut on his side. He won’t let me look at it, but Dad pushed him onto the table and a plate broke and cut him.”
Bobby swallowed down the rage that had formed in his stomach against John Winchester. This wasn’t the first time that Sam had told him about the things John did to his boys, but Bobby would try his hardest to make sure it was the last.
“Don’t tell Dean I said anything!” Sam said, looking up at Bobby.
“I won’t, I promise. I just needed to know so I can take care of him.” Bobby gave Sam a hug and they continued to make dinner.
“Dean, come eat some dinner,” Bobby said, shaking Dean’s shoulder gently.
“Hm?” Dean hummed, peeling his eyes open.
“You’re burnin’ up, boy. Pull up your shirt,” Bobby instructed, pulling the blankets off of Dean.
Dean wasn’t awake enough to figure out what Bobby was up to, so he pulled his shirt up and rolled onto his back.
“Christ, Dean, why didn’t you tell me about this?” Bobby asked, pulling the dirty dressing away from the gash on Dean’s side. “This is infected. Don’t move, ya hear me?”
Bobby hurried down the stairs to grab his med kit from the kitchen. “You go ahead and eat Sam, I gotta clean that gash on Dean’s side.”
“Can I help?” Sam asked, worry shining in his eyes.
“No, you just eat your dinner.”
Bobby went back upstairs with the med kit and a bottle of water and pulled the blankets off of Dean again. “Dean, stay awake please,” Bobby said, anxiety creeping up his throat.
Dean peeled his eyes open again and groaned. “My side hurts,” he croaked.
“I know it does, that’s why I’m gonna clean it out.” Bobby got to work cleaning the wound and redressing it. “There, that should feel better,” Bobby said once he finished.
“Still hurts,” Dean said, more awake now.
“Does it sting?”
“No it aches. Like I got shoved into a table or something,” Dean said, watching Bobby to see his reaction.
Bobby swallowed the rage down again and looked Dean hard in the eyes. “He should never treat you boys that way. I’ll go get something to help with the ache and the shivers.” Bobby said, noticing how Dean was shaking.
He returned with a hot water bottle and placed it on Dean’s stomach. “Here, this should help.”
Dean sighed and curled around the heat source as Bobby pulled the blankets back up around his shoulders. “Thanks Bobby,” Dean said, his eyes slipping shut again.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Bobby said softly, running a hand through Dean’s hair. He smiled, taking in how young Dean looked when he was asleep. “You deserve better than what you got and I’m sorry it took me so long to put a stop to it.”
Bobby wasn’t sure how he was going to stop it right yet, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Because he would put a stop to it, one way or another.