D`egringolade n: a rapid decline or deterioration (as in
strength or condition) : downfall
Bobby stepped outside, moved away from the house until he reached the
Impala. He leaned against the hood, pulling his cell phone from his
pocket. Delilah wriggled from beneath her favorite junker, sauntered to
where Bobby stood. The Rottweiler sat on Bobby’s boots, leaning her
massive body against his legs for a rub down.
Bobby scratched the dog’s head as he listened to the phone ringing on
the other end. He sent a quick glance to the house, confident Dean
would stay at his post.
“Yeah?”
“Where the hell are you, Junior?”
“Have I told you lately how good your
John Winchester impersonation is getting, Sanford?”
Bobby grunted. Any other time the smart ass reply might have been
comforting. Right now he felt irritated that Caleb wasn’t with Dean and
Sam. “Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, drop it and get your ass
to my place ASAP. I need your help here.”
“That’s going to be a little
difficult considering I’m in Hawaii.”
“What?” Bobby stepped away from the car, pressing the phone closer to
his ear, hoping to hell he didn’t hear Caleb right. “Did you say
Hawaii?”
“Lanai City, actually. Triad
business. Dean didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t.” Bobby’s frustration rose. What were the boys thinking?
Armageddon was at hand. “You picked a hell of a time to go on vacation,
Kid.”
“If I were going on a vacation I sure
the hell wouldn’t have picked a dime-sized piece of volcano ash in the
middle of the fucking ocean. I’m here to see Victor. The retired
Scholar couldn’t be bothered to return mine or Riley’s calls or emails
so I invaded his own private paradise.”
Bobby remembered their conversation from a few weeks ago. Caleb was
determined to find out about the mysterious Triad power and Advisor
journals. “You’re still sniffing out that Benjamin Mosley lead?”
Bobby heard the telltale sigh, could picture the look of
self-recrimination on Caleb’s face.
“For all the good it did me. Good old
Victor is playing it all close to the vest. Having a conversation with
him is like verbal chess and his psychic ability keeps me from reading
him without it getting nasty.”
“Well forget about him.” Even if Caleb could pull something from the
past Scholar, it wouldn’t be what they needed. “I want you home. Now.”
“Why? What the hell is so urgent?”
“Dean and Sam are here.”
“I thought they were tracking down
Castiel’s meat suit?”
Bobby rubbed at a speck of mud on the Impala’s emblem. “You know about
that?”
“Deuce called me on their way to
Illinois. Did something happen?”
“Doesn’t it always?” Nothing ran smooth with the Winchesters. They were
cursed.
“Are they okay?”
He recognized the fear and uncertainty in Caleb’s voice. As much as he
would have liked to have had a better answer, he was never one to sugar
coat it for the boys. “No. They’re in a bad way.”
“They’re hurt? But I haven’t felt
anything…”
Bobby rushed to cut him off. “They’re not injured-not exactly. Sam’s
strung out.”
“I’m not following you.”
“He’s been drinking demon blood.”
“What? That’s insane.”
“So is bargaining your soul to a bunch of demons, and using a fucking
amulet you know is going turn you inside out, but nobody has ever
accused you chuckle heads of being the brightest in the bunch.”
“Goddamnit Sammy. How long?”
“I’d wager it started when Dean went to Hell. The kid’s been using the
stuff like supernatural steroids.” Bobby wasn’t surprised by the
lengths the Winchesters or Caleb would go. He didn’t know whether to
admire the hell out of their tenacity, or rage about how completely
fucked up they all were. Either way, he inevitably blamed John. Caleb
had someone else in mind.
“Ruby.”
“I would pin her as the supplier. She probably worked the kid like any
good drug dealer would. Got him at a low point, boasted the pros of
juicing up, mix in a little hanky-panky and she set her hook good.” Sam
was a perfect mark. Anger, grief, and fear were all emotions that
primed someone for a demon possession. Demon infusion was just the next
step up.
“I’m going to rip that bitch from
limb to limb.”
“Get in line.”
“It definitely explains the boost in
his abilities, why I couldn’t read him. I can’t fucking believe I
missed it. The way he was acting after these last few hunts…the high he
was on. I should have paid more attention when he started acting
completely off…saying crazy shit.”
“Well you and Dean can play the should’ve, could’ve, would’ve game all
you want, it ain’t going to help Sam one damn bit.”
“Can you help him?”
It was the same thing Dean asked him. Bobby didn’t have the quick
answer for Caleb either. “We put him in the panic room to dry out.”
“Will that work? Going cold turkey?”
“Considering Betty Ford hasn’t branched out to the hunting world, I’m
guessing it’s our only avenue.” Bobby scratched his beard. He hadn’t
run across a case like Sam’s. The closest research he’d done had been
for Mac about Caleb. Being born with demon blood and ingesting it would
obviously produce two different effects. “We’ll have to play it by ear,
like with Seaver’s bobble.”
“Bobby I was out of it for weeks when
I used the amulet and I’d only been under its effects for a few months.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy, Junior or pretty to watch.”
Bobby could still hear Sam screaming at them to let him out. It was
only going to get worse. “Like I said, I’m doing the only thing I know,
cutting the off the head of the snake.”
“What about Mac? Do you think Dad
might be able to do something? At least make the process easier?”
Bobby took a deep breath, refrained from pointing out that making Sam’s
life easier could be one of the reasons they were at this point. “Dean
doesn’t want your old man involved.”
“That makes sense. We haven’t exactly
clued The Scholar in on the whole Ruby thing.”
“Yeah. I got that.” Mackland was going to kick his ass, but Bobby knew
the less people who knew about the future Scholar’s venture off the
tried and true path the better. Not only would Sam be out of the
running for The Triad, Caleb would be discounted due to their
similarities, and the future Guardian would come off looking like a
dupe. “But The Brotherhood is doing some damage control. Jimmy’s family
will be looked after.”
“What about Dean’s angel buddies?
They can’t lift a wing after all he’s been through for the cause?”
“It seems Dean’s guardian angel has been relieved of duty.” Bobby had
suggested the same thing. “He pretty much told the kid to kiss off.”
“Cas broke up with Deuce? What the
hell?”
Bobby snorted at Caleb’s indignation. “Apparently they’re a fickle
bunch.”
“Pastor Jim would be disappointed. He
would have expected more.”
Bobby missed Jim’s unique spin on things. He couldn’t imagine how the
past Guardian could find a bright spot in what was happening but they
all missed his guidance. “I think this is all more convoluted than Jim
ever imagined.”
“How’s Deuce holding up?”
“He thinks he’s up for it.” Bobby glanced towards the house. “I think
he’s being optimistic.”
“Why the hell didn’t he call me?”
“One guess.”
“He’s protecting Sam.”
“Something like that.” Dean was scrambling to salvage the last vestiges
of his family. Sam was slipping through his fingers. Bobby had
witnessed the boy go through that loss once before, and this scenario
had the possibility of being so much worse.
“This isn’t going to turn into
another Cold Oak, Bobby. I won’t let it.”
He didn’t know if Caleb was reading him or had drawn the same
conclusions himself. “How fast can you get here?However this goes down,
they’re going to need you, kid.”
“I’ll hop the next water taxi to
Honolulu and pick up a private jet from there. Whatever it takes, I’m
on my way.”
“Good. Call me as soon as you get stateside.”
“Bobby?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let them out of your sight.”
Bobby heard the unspoken plea. Keep them safe. Don’t let us lose them
again. He was getting too damn old for this shit. “I’m on the job,
Lancelot. Just get yourself here in one piece.” Dean wasn’t the only
one desperate to save a family.
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