No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just blindly trust Castiel, not when it was Dean on the chopping block. They’d probably kill you then take me and do God knows what to me until they're ready to kick off the apocalypse.” Sam sighed, better to assume the worst than present his back to the knife. “But what if he’s here because of Heaven? The last thing we need is Zachariah or Michael catching wind of the situation. The whole point of you praying to him was to make contact, right? Well, congrats, it worked.” Bobby snorted, brandishing a finger at Sam’s chest. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, boy. Why did he come at all? He shouldn’t care about whether or not I pray to him at this point in the timeline.” Sam insisted with a vague flail of his arms, as if the gesture alone could possibly encapsulate the sheer perplexity of the situation. “I mean, you have been doing it pretty much every hour since we got here.” The elder hunter pointed out, arms crossing as he leaned his weight against the counter at his back, regarding a suddenly sheepish Sam with a raised eyebrow. Speaking of the elder hunter, when Sam glanced at the man in question, he found that Bobby’s expression was contemplative. He grimaced at the slick feel of the strands, mentally noting that he had to shower sooner rather than later since he didn’t put it past Bobby to lure him out back just to hose him down.
“When I asked him why he answered me now of all times, he said that it was because I hadn’t prayed in a couple of hours.” Sam sighed, running a calloused hand through his greasy hair. “Try me.” Bobby challenged, fixing his wise eyes onto Sam. So, if Castiel wasn’t carrying out orders from his higher-ups, then what exactly was he doing? He still couldn’t make heads or tails of what Castiel’s intentions were, but Sam’s gut insisted that the angel wasn’t acting on Heaven’s behalf. But it didn’t really make a lot of sense.” Sam sighed, the stiff line of his shoulders slumping. Thankfully, Sam had spent enough time with Dean and Dad to recognize an olive branch when he heard it, his restless pacing grinding to a reluctant stop in front of the elder hunter.
“Did he say anything?” Bobby piped up, draining the last of his coffee in one gulp before setting the empty mug onto the counter with a light tap. The kitchen fell into a stifling silence, the only sounds to break up the tense quiet being the various creaks and groans of the old house and Sam’s thumping footsteps as he wore a path into the floor with his anxious pacing. “How about a bit of gratitude, kid? God knows when the next time you’ll be relaxed enough to catch a few hours of sleep will be.” Bobby groused with narrowed eyes, raising his cup to gulp down half of the -no doubt- scalding contents in a few swallows. And Sam knew he had managed to actually offend Bobby with his snappish behavior when -instead of filling a cup for Sam as well- he placed the pot back on the eye to keep it piping hot. Sure, while he had slept here and there in-between the hours where he had prayed until he lost his voice, this was actually the first time that he had allowed himself to sleep longer than a quick power nap.Īnd that just so happened to be when Castiel decided to show up? Talk about horrible timing.īobby frowned at him as the old coffee maker spluttered out the last few drops of the dark liquid, the older hunter sluggishly pulling the pot out from under the drip in order to pour a substantial amount of the steaming brew into a mug. “What the hell happened to ‘thirty minutes’ anyway?” Sam demanded, tone coming out a bit more harsh than he had intended it to. Sam halted in his tracks when something suddenly occurred to him, abruptly turning to directly address Bobby. He showed up, Bobby.” Sam knew that his voice had taken on a slightly hysterical edge when the elder hunter eyed him with thinly-veiled concern, so he tried to tone down the jittery feeling that was left behind from the adrenaline rush of seeing Castiel in person. “I mean he was right there, in the living room, not a foot away from where I was sleeping. Regardless of this, Sam continued his explanation as he paced, too wired to do anything else. Sam could tell that the older hunter wasn’t fully aware yet and probably wouldn’t be until he had gotten at least two cups of strong brew in him. “What do you mean Castiel showed up?” Bobby grunted from where he was leaning up against the counter, impatiently waiting for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. Stats: Published: Updated: Words: 12823 Chapters: 4/? Comments: 5 Kudos: 40 Bookmarks: 14 Hits: 632 Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues.Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other.
0 kommentar(er)
