A short oneshot for you all. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Kripke and Co.
Bobby Singer was working on a 1970 Buick GSX when he heard the phone ringing from inside the house. He put down the tool he was currently using and hoisted himself to his feet, groaning slightly as his aging bones protested the movement. He wiped a hand over his forehead, flinging away sweat. It was a hot day, the sun burning brightly in the blue sky, beating down on his head and shoulders.
Stretching, the wizened hunter took his cap off and shook the sweat out of his hair before replacing the blue hat. The phone continued to ring, the tone shrill and Bobby swore it sounded like it was ringing more urgently than normal.
With a frown marring his features, Bobby left everything as it was and made his way towards the house. When he reached the kitchen, he grabbed the receiver and pulled the black contraption to his ear.
"Hello? This is Singer Salvage." No one important ever used the number, as most hunters communicated through cell phones. Land lines were too easy to trace and hack into, where as cell phones had a more secure transmission.
There was no answer on the other end of the phone and Bobby frowned again. Surely, if it was someone who wanted parts they would have started speaking already. Then, just as he was about to hang up the phone in disgust, a voice spoke.
"Hey, Bobby." It was Dean. "Is Sammy there?"
Dean was currently on a hunt somewhere and had left Sam and Bobby's to recover from mildly serious wounds that had resulted from a nasty poltergeist throwing him into a wall. So far, the youngest Winchester was healing up nicely and was awaiting the return of his older brother.
"Dean," he said and the relief evident in his voice. It had been a few days since they had last heard from him and truth be told, he had started to get slightly worried. "Nah, Sam's not here at the moment. I think he's gone into town to get some supplies."
"Oh." There was an underlying tone for that one word and Bobby felt himself frown again.
"Is everything alright, Dean? Is the hunt going okay?"
A laugh. "Yeah, the hunt's going fine, Bobby. Just wrapping it up. Should be back soon, I hope. DO you know when Sammy will be back?"
There was that underlying tone again. Something was up, that much was certain. "Are you sure everything's okay, Dean?"
There was a strained laugh from the younger hunter. "Yeah..." A pause. "...no."
Fear slammed into Bobby like a freight train. "Dean? What's wrong? Where are you? What are you hunting?"
There was silence for a moment and Bobby held his breath, only letting it out when he heard Dean's voice over the line, albeit slightly strained. "Um... Bobby..."
"I need you to tell Sammy something for me, okay?" Oh God, no... "Bobby? Please..."
A deep shaking breath and Bobby asked what he feared the most. "Dean? Are you going to be okay?"
He could hear voices talking in the background, over Dean's shallow breathing. It sounded like there were several other people with him. "Dean?"
"Bobby, please, you gotta tell him this. You gotta promise." He was deliberately ignoring his questions, Bobby realised. It was bad. Not to mention, his words were laced with desperation. Dean Winchester didn't do desperate.
"Okay, Dean. I promise." After saying those words, Bobby felt like he had signed some kind of death warrant. Dean took a shuddering breath, which Bobby heard clearly.
"Thank you." There was a moment of silence again, in which he heard the background talking become louder. He still couldn't make out what was being said, but by the tones, he knew it wasn't good.
"Bobby? Tell... tell Sammy that it didn't hurt. Tell him that it was quick..." Oh God. No... Fear ran through his body as cruel laughter was heard in the background. Bobby couldn't believe what he was hearing. Both he and Dean knew that it wasn't going to be quick, or painless.
"Dean? No... c'mon, kiddo, this isn't funny." The next words broke his heart.
"I'm not kidding, Bobby. Please tell Sam that I love him, and that I'm gonna miss him lots." There was a waver in his voice now and Bobby couldn't help the sob that threatened to be released. "Tell him that he should go back to school, become a lawyer."
"Dean..." Bobby didn't try to stop the tears from falling. He was listening to Dean's last words to his brother... "Dean, please. Tell me where you are. Tell me so I can help you!"
"I'm sorry, Bobby." There was a hitch in Dean's voice. "Tell Sammy that he can have the Impala and that he has to take good care of her. I don't have much time, but please, you gotta let him know what it was quick and painless. You gotta tell Sammy that I'll always be watching over him, no matter what." Dean was crying. He was stumbling over his words as the emotion became too much.
Dean was dying and there was nothing he could do about it...
"Tell Sammy I say 'Happy Birthday.'"
"Dean... no... please, tell me where you are! Don't do this, Dean. Please..." He was pleading, a last ditch attempt to help save a boy he had always treated like a son.
And Bobby Singer was left staring at the black phone as the single tone beeped through the receiver, stating that the connection had been cut. Tears ran down his face, as the realisation sunk in. Dean...
And then the door opened and Sam walked through, a bright smile on his face and a six pack of Dean's favourite beer in his hand.
Um, don't hurt me? Hope you liked it. Please review.