Dean and Bobby talked for hours, breaking only to finish off the bottle of top shelf liquor Brian had been nice enough to allow them to drain. Bobby made a mental note to repay him later, one way or another. They owed each other a few favors anyway, so it all washed out in the end. They weren't drinking just to celebrate, but also to mourn. It wasn't easy telling Dean how the big Apocalypse had gone down on this side of the universe. Telling Dean how he died was one thing, but telling him he killed his own brother was another. Dean had taken it well, as well as could be expected, all things considered, but Bobby knew it was all an act.
Neither of them was very good at showing their feelings, and the big L word was completely out of the question. After a while, Nim, Jo, whoever she was had come in and brought a couple of sandwiches, briefly reminding them that they needed to eat before ducking back out. Bobby had made an attempt to pick at the food, but Dean hadn't even tried, and though he seemed to be taking things well, Bobby knew Dean well enough to know that inside there was a storm raging in Dean's heart. The calm before the storm perhaps. It had taken months for Dean to acknowledge his Daddy's death, to accept it, to grieve, to let loose the tide of emotions that had been broiling inside, like a volcano simmering until it finally erupted in a single violent explosion.
Bobby knew that same thing was happening now, and as much as he didn't want to see Dean suffer, he knew better than to coddle him and tell him to let it go. Dean wasn't a boy anymore; he was a man, and he had to find his own way of dealing with the tragedy that was inherent in the life that had been chosen for him.
The calm before the storm was exactly what Dean was feeling. He took the news like a man, despite what he was feeling inside, and after another drink, excused himself, saying he needed to get some air. Bobby had lessened the pain a little by tossing Dean a set of familiar carkeys - keys to Dean's baby. The car he'd helped his own father pick off the lot when Cas had sent him to the past to encounter his parents when they were younger.
A 1967 black Chevrolet Impala that was Dean's most coveted possession and that he loved more than most people - the car that had been passed down to Dean from father to son as soon as he was able to drive. Dean stared at the keys in his hand for a long moment, conflicting emotions raging like a storm in his heart and his head.
"At least, I still have my baby," he told Bobby. There was a little comfort in that. Bobby watched him with concerned, troubled old eyes.
"You've got a lot more than that, boy," he reminded him, squeezing a hand against his shoulder before letting him go, wondering how the hell he could have ever doubted him.
Bobby watched as Dean walked quietly away. Quiet, too quiet. There was trouble brewing inside the younger man, and Bobby was worried what would happen when all the grief finally caught up with him. He sighed heavily as Dean disappeared out the door and then Bobby turned and started back toward the bar. Now that he had sorted things out with Dean, he and Brian had a lot to discuss.
Over the course of the day, other hunters had dropped in and out, a few choosing to stay the night before moving on. With the night drawing in outside, the bar was quiet as Bobby re-entered. Vaguely curious eyes flickered toward him as Brian nodded to his friend from where he stood in his accustomed spot, but no one tried to intercept the man. News travelled fast, especially when a reunion like theirs was taking place in a refuge like this.
The look on Bobby's face said more than anything he could put into words. He looked, in a word, grim. Worried, concerned, troubled - like any father would who cared about his son. "Gotta say, I'm glad to have him back, but I wish it had been under different circumstances," he remarked, setting his weary bones down on a stool. "Doesn't sound like too much fun being a vengeful spirit. If I ever die, remind me not to go that route." He was talking in circles, touching on things he and Dean had discussed that probably didn't make much sense to the casual observor, but he'd explain it all to Brian after he calmed his jangled nerves with a few more glasses of liquid courage.
Down the bar from Brian, Nim looked up from where she had her nose buried in a book. She'd been filling the time, trying not to eavesdrop or intrude, but desperate to know how Dean was coping with the long, long exchange of news. Her dark eyes touched on Bobby, speaking up before Brian had the chance. "Where is he?"
Bobby tilted his head toward the girl he and Brian knew as Nimue - a mystery herself, though it seemed Dean had just solved it, or at least, part of it. His story didn't explain how he or the girl he knew as Jo had ended up here, in this world, but at least it explained her nightmares. He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Went outside to see his baby." Anyone who knew Dean would know what baby Bobby was referring to, but Nim probably didn't.
His baby" Her brow furrowed as an unexpected shock of jealousy made itself known. Had Bobby brought someone else with him, someone whom Dean hadn't mentioned" Someone who was his 'baby'" Uncertain, she glanced toward Brian for a moment even as she slid off the stool. "I'll, uh ....go see if he's ..." She pointed toward the door, utterly failing to actually finish the sentence as her cheeks colored with the jealous heat Bobby's allusion had brought to bear in her. But no matter who was out there, what she was about to witness, Nim had to know Dean was all right, even if he no longer needed her there.
As the young woman disappeared out through the door, Brian eyed Bobby, passing over a bottle of Devil's Cut and a glass. "You could've mentioned his baby's a car," he said mildly, shifting himself to lean more comfortably against the counter. "You look like hell."
Bobby took the bottle from his old friend with a grateful grunt of acknowledgement. "She'll find out soon enough." The two of them fell into quiet conversation, two old friends catching up.
Dean didn't need Bobby to tell him where to look for his baby. He knew Bobby would take good care of her and have her parked safely off the street, most likely in the lot beside the bar. It had gotten dark since he and Bobby had started their little chat, but the car shone like a jewel under the light cast by the moon and the streetlights. Dean stood looking at her for a moment, like looking at an old familiar friend. He hadn't driven her in months or even sat behind the wheel. Back home, the car had been in storage for the last few months, as she was a bit too conspicuous when trying to keep a low profile. There was so much of himself wrapped up in that car, she was almost a part of him.
So much history, so many memories. The car had been the one constant in his life - always there for him, no matter what. She was, by every definition of the word, his baby. He was the one who had found her, loved her, took care of her, painstakingly rebuilt her piece by piece every time she'd been wrecked, and she had repaid him with her loyalty, always being there for him, no matter what. People could say and think what they wanted, but the Impala was more than just a car to Dean. The Impala was home.
Neither of them was very good at showing their feelings, and the big L word was completely out of the question. After a while, Nim, Jo, whoever she was had come in and brought a couple of sandwiches, briefly reminding them that they needed to eat before ducking back out. Bobby had made an attempt to pick at the food, but Dean hadn't even tried, and though he seemed to be taking things well, Bobby knew Dean well enough to know that inside there was a storm raging in Dean's heart. The calm before the storm perhaps. It had taken months for Dean to acknowledge his Daddy's death, to accept it, to grieve, to let loose the tide of emotions that had been broiling inside, like a volcano simmering until it finally erupted in a single violent explosion.
Bobby knew that same thing was happening now, and as much as he didn't want to see Dean suffer, he knew better than to coddle him and tell him to let it go. Dean wasn't a boy anymore; he was a man, and he had to find his own way of dealing with the tragedy that was inherent in the life that had been chosen for him.
The calm before the storm was exactly what Dean was feeling. He took the news like a man, despite what he was feeling inside, and after another drink, excused himself, saying he needed to get some air. Bobby had lessened the pain a little by tossing Dean a set of familiar carkeys - keys to Dean's baby. The car he'd helped his own father pick off the lot when Cas had sent him to the past to encounter his parents when they were younger.
A 1967 black Chevrolet Impala that was Dean's most coveted possession and that he loved more than most people - the car that had been passed down to Dean from father to son as soon as he was able to drive. Dean stared at the keys in his hand for a long moment, conflicting emotions raging like a storm in his heart and his head.
"At least, I still have my baby," he told Bobby. There was a little comfort in that. Bobby watched him with concerned, troubled old eyes.
"You've got a lot more than that, boy," he reminded him, squeezing a hand against his shoulder before letting him go, wondering how the hell he could have ever doubted him.
Bobby watched as Dean walked quietly away. Quiet, too quiet. There was trouble brewing inside the younger man, and Bobby was worried what would happen when all the grief finally caught up with him. He sighed heavily as Dean disappeared out the door and then Bobby turned and started back toward the bar. Now that he had sorted things out with Dean, he and Brian had a lot to discuss.
Over the course of the day, other hunters had dropped in and out, a few choosing to stay the night before moving on. With the night drawing in outside, the bar was quiet as Bobby re-entered. Vaguely curious eyes flickered toward him as Brian nodded to his friend from where he stood in his accustomed spot, but no one tried to intercept the man. News travelled fast, especially when a reunion like theirs was taking place in a refuge like this.
The look on Bobby's face said more than anything he could put into words. He looked, in a word, grim. Worried, concerned, troubled - like any father would who cared about his son. "Gotta say, I'm glad to have him back, but I wish it had been under different circumstances," he remarked, setting his weary bones down on a stool. "Doesn't sound like too much fun being a vengeful spirit. If I ever die, remind me not to go that route." He was talking in circles, touching on things he and Dean had discussed that probably didn't make much sense to the casual observor, but he'd explain it all to Brian after he calmed his jangled nerves with a few more glasses of liquid courage.
Down the bar from Brian, Nim looked up from where she had her nose buried in a book. She'd been filling the time, trying not to eavesdrop or intrude, but desperate to know how Dean was coping with the long, long exchange of news. Her dark eyes touched on Bobby, speaking up before Brian had the chance. "Where is he?"
Bobby tilted his head toward the girl he and Brian knew as Nimue - a mystery herself, though it seemed Dean had just solved it, or at least, part of it. His story didn't explain how he or the girl he knew as Jo had ended up here, in this world, but at least it explained her nightmares. He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Went outside to see his baby." Anyone who knew Dean would know what baby Bobby was referring to, but Nim probably didn't.
His baby" Her brow furrowed as an unexpected shock of jealousy made itself known. Had Bobby brought someone else with him, someone whom Dean hadn't mentioned" Someone who was his 'baby'" Uncertain, she glanced toward Brian for a moment even as she slid off the stool. "I'll, uh ....go see if he's ..." She pointed toward the door, utterly failing to actually finish the sentence as her cheeks colored with the jealous heat Bobby's allusion had brought to bear in her. But no matter who was out there, what she was about to witness, Nim had to know Dean was all right, even if he no longer needed her there.
As the young woman disappeared out through the door, Brian eyed Bobby, passing over a bottle of Devil's Cut and a glass. "You could've mentioned his baby's a car," he said mildly, shifting himself to lean more comfortably against the counter. "You look like hell."
Bobby took the bottle from his old friend with a grateful grunt of acknowledgement. "She'll find out soon enough." The two of them fell into quiet conversation, two old friends catching up.
Dean didn't need Bobby to tell him where to look for his baby. He knew Bobby would take good care of her and have her parked safely off the street, most likely in the lot beside the bar. It had gotten dark since he and Bobby had started their little chat, but the car shone like a jewel under the light cast by the moon and the streetlights. Dean stood looking at her for a moment, like looking at an old familiar friend. He hadn't driven her in months or even sat behind the wheel. Back home, the car had been in storage for the last few months, as she was a bit too conspicuous when trying to keep a low profile. There was so much of himself wrapped up in that car, she was almost a part of him.
So much history, so many memories. The car had been the one constant in his life - always there for him, no matter what. She was, by every definition of the word, his baby. He was the one who had found her, loved her, took care of her, painstakingly rebuilt her piece by piece every time she'd been wrecked, and she had repaid him with her loyalty, always being there for him, no matter what. People could say and think what they wanted, but the Impala was more than just a car to Dean. The Impala was home.