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It was late and the dog was barking. It sounded like he was happy to see the car, a black Chevy Impala that just arrived in the junkyard.
From the house came a man with a shaved off shotgun and a baseball cap. He was definitely less happy than the dog to see the shiny Impala.
There were two grown men and two young boys in the car, and the driver killed the engine and waited. No doors were opening, and it'd have been a heavy silence in the night if not for the excited dog's barking.
The man on the porch was illuminated from above by a single light bulb.
The moment stretched on like in an old western movie.
Finally the man with the gun dropped his tense posture, turned around and went into the house leaving for the excited dog to welcome the late night passengers.
The man didn't have to wait too long inside. The front door was opened again, and he heard two matching sets of steps walk in, and soon the Impala's engine turned over.
By the time the duffel bags landed on the floor, all the noise faded away and the two young boys in his living room were his problem. Again.
John's boys: Dean and Sam Winchester.
"What is it this time?" Asked the man with guarded tone.
"A hunt with Caleb." Was the short answer from the older boy.
"Need any help with?"
"No, Uncle Bobby. I think it's a standard salt and burn. The only reason Dad is taking Caleb is because the case is close to Lawrence."
Both the two unexpected guests and Bobby had a short pause thanks to the name, because all three of them knew what it meant. Their father would disappear for a month and would come back bloody and drunk.
"Boys it's late, go take your stuff up to the room." And with this Bobby turned around, not even bothered to wait to make sure the kids were doing what he said. They always did.
He went to the front door, whistled for Rumsfeld, the dog and double checked the locks and the salt lines.
The first one was against the human intruders and the later one was because of the demon variety. He hated both of these. After that the older man made his rounds checking the windows and all the nooks and crannies, before he finally decided to face the music and go upstairs.
The door to the boy's temporary room was closed, and he was tempted to just let it go and let them rest, but right now the two kids were his responsibility. John made them his. Again.
"Idjit." Murmured under his nose, and opened the door.
The room was middle size, with a double bed and a nightstand in one corner and a chest of drawers and wardrobe in the other. The duffel bags were already packed away and Sam was sleeping. Dean was sitting on top of the cover like he was waiting for him.
"Tomorrow we have to go to the school to try to roll you two in again." Bobby started the conversation.
"I know." Was the short answer. But after a while Dean elaborated. "Sam will be happy."
"And you?" The older boy's only answer was only a half hearted shrug.
"So I reckon, you two will be here for at least a month, if the lead doesn't pan out. Or longer if it does."
"Do you think so? I mean that Dad will find something?" Dean's voice was definitely hopeful, and Bobby's heart was doing funny things. He always liked the boys like they were his own. But John's fanatic quest for revenge was slowly killing Dean. Sam was different. Maybe that he was too young to remember Mary or the life before the road, but he seemed content. Mostly when it was only the two brothers without their dad, because Dean was everything for him: dad, mother, brother, friend. When you added John to the mix, it became a crowd.
When Bobby realised that Dean was still looking at him, waiting for an answer, he took off his hat to buy some time, scratched his head and nervously put the baseball cap back. "Balls"
"Uncle Bobby, do you think it'll ever stop? Always the next hunt, the next person to save."
"Do you want it to stop?"
"I think so." The boy's answer was a bit uncertain.
"You don't seem so sure about it." Which surprised Bobby a bit. He saw Dean crestfallen look tonight, and he knew that the older boy was worried about John every time when he didn't make it in time.
"I like the hunt." Confessed Dean a bit quieter than before. "I like that Dad is helping. He's actually making a difference. And when he's letting me help that's even better. But…" And with that he looked at his sleeping younger brother. "But Sam needs stability. He likes to be in one school for the whole year. He'd like it, if Dad would be at home more."
Bobby was aware of the change of tone between the last two statements. Looks like he was not the only one who picked up on the tension between Sam and his dad. But of course Dean was aware. Dean was always aware of what was happening with his baby brother. They were the two sides of the same coin. They belonged together.
"I don't think so. I don't think he'll stop." Said Bobby. He was from the old block. He didn't think that sugarcoating the bad news helped anybody. A false hope can even be dangerous in their line of work.
"Ok, I guess." This and a half hearted shrug was the only answer from the boy. He looked at his brother again and took the knife that was on the nightstand and put it under his pillow. His way of saying the conversation was over. "Good night."
"Good night boy." And with this Bobby switched off the light on his way out. When he closed the door he couldn't help himself to murmur under his nose.
"Idjits. All of them."