A/N: Puh, so here it is! :) My continuation of Changes. Many of you had asked for it (especially one woman *looks at Newspaper Taxis* LOL)

This got a little longer then I had planned but I hope that's okay for you. And for the record – I'm pro!John, even if it's not looking soooo good for him in this story. But this is supposed to be a Dean and Bobby fic so… *shrugs*

My hugest thanks to all of you who have read, favorited, alerted and reviewed so far! It means the world to me!

Also many thanks and tightly hugs to Enkidu07 for beta'ing this despite her own busy RL and to Newspaper Taxis for bugging and encouraging me to finally write this. Hope you like it. ;)

Have fun reading. ;)

Bobby felt Dean lean more into him. The older hunter tightened his hold, by now the only thing that kept the younger man upright.

Dean's forehead rested against Bobby's shoulder and Bobby winced at the heat he felt seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

"Easy, I've got you," he said softly. With a forced grin he added, "Well, I always knew the kid was the smart one in the family."

"Yeah." Dean chuckled humorlessly, his knees buckling again.

Bobby re-adjusted his hold on the younger man, draping one arm over his shoulder. He didn't miss the pained expression that crossed Dean's face, the movement pulling on whatever injury that was hidden under the layers of fabric. "You think you can make it up the stairs?"

Dean nodded slightly, leaning more into the older hunter.

"Okay then, let's get you inside and to bed."

The way upstairs and to the small spare room the boys shared since they were young was slow going. By the time they finally reached the bed it was only Bobby who kept Dean vertical.

Dean's head had come to a rest on his chest, his breathing labored and fast, eyes closed.

The only thing that had kept the kid going for so long was pure adrenalin and sheer willpower.

Eventually he got Dean settled. Sitting down next to him on the edge of the mattress Bobby eyed him worriedly.

Dean's face was pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His brow was furrowed in pain, his breathing shallow and ragged, eyes moving under closed lids.

What the hell had happened?

Bobby rested a calloused hand briefly against Dean's forehead; concerned about the heat he felt seeping into his palm. The kid was burning up.

Dean stirred, glassy eyes blinking open, zeroing on Bobby. The older hunter cringed at the unmasked pain in the too bright green orbs.

"Dean, what happened?" Carefully Bobby lifted the bloody shirt, revealing a crisscross of bloody bandages on Dean's torso. "Christ, boy, what did this to you?" As carefully as possible he started to peel back the stained gauze, not missing the choked moan that escaped Dean's throat.

"C-chupacabra. Damn pack g-got the better ... of me f-for a ..sec."

Bobby eyed him for a moment, dumbfounded. Well, that would definitely explain the angry looking mess that was his chest. At least five of the ten gashes had required stitches though most of them were torn now. Blood and puss oozed sluggishly out of them. His stomach clenched painfully. This looked really serious.

"Wait a minute – you were hunting a whole Chupacabra pack on your own? You fucking kidding me? You know how damn wrong this could have gone?"

"There wasn't anyone else around. These things were killing people," Dean mumbled, gasping when Bobby's hands started probing at the gashes.

"You could have called for Christ sake. Hunting a whole pack alone is practical suicide." Bobby exhaled slowly. There was no use in lecturing the boy right now. He had other things to worry about. This infection looked bad. Almost hospital bad.

"When did this happen?"

Dean blinked a few times, needing some time to get his mind focused.

"Three days ago."

Bobby swallowed hard, biting back another sharp comment. "Who patched you up?" He had to ask, though he already knew the answer.

"Who d'you think?" Dean's voice was pained and breathy.

"Damnit, Dean!" Bobby swore with feeling. "This was stupid. Really stupid." Seeing the hurt expression on Dean's face he sighed. "Look, this looks really serious. I don't know if my first-aid-kit will be enough to fix this. Maybe I should take you to…"

"No. No 'spital, please Bobby." Dean tried to sit up, eyes huge and suddenly unbelievable young.

"Easy. Calm down." Bobby placed a restraining hand on the boy's shoulder, pushing him back into the pillows. The knot in his stomach tightened even more.

"Bobby, please. No hospital. Dad's gonna…." Dean gasped and tried to curl into himself, his eyes clenched shut in pain.

"Fuck." Bobby swore softly. "Easy. Breathe through it - that's it. It's okay, Dean. Just calm down." He squeezed Dean's shoulder in a comforting manner, hoping to calm the boy somewhat.

"Thought… S'mmy had 'm back," Dean mumbled, barely audible and incoherently.

Bobby knew losing Sam was hard for Dean. Though hard didn't even begin to describe it. And knowing John, Sam would be a taboo subject from now on. That son of a bitch could be stubborn as hell about certain things.

Bobby rubbed a hand over his forehead. He was getting too old for this.

His knees popped as he stood up. He made it halfway through the room before Dean's voice stopped him.


One word, weak and mumbled and still, Bobby heard something inside the younger man's voice that he hadn't heard in a long time – fear.

"It's okay. I'm just getting the kit."


For a brief moment Bobby just stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Right now he could throttle John. Sending Dean on solo-hunts was bad, but this? He doubted that John even knew that his boy was hurt

Bobby shook his head. John wasn't such a bad father. He just … didn't have his priorities straight. But still, pumping buckshot into him didn't sound that bad at the moment.

"Idjits!" He swore.

Grabbing the first-aid-kit and a glass of water, he went back into the spare bedroom.

Dean appeared to be sleeping though the moment Bobby sat down on the bed again his eyes fluttered open.

"You with me?" Bobby asked, rummaging through the contents of the kit. "I need to re-open the stitches, clean them and suture them new. This'll hurt." Finally finding what he was looking for, he focused back on Dean. "I don't have much morphine left but this should take the edge off it." He handed the younger Winchester a few pills and the glass of water.

"Painkillers and antibiotics," He answered the kid's questioning look.

"Whiskey would do it too," Dean mumbled, sinking back into the pillows.

"Maybe next time. 'Sides, I've spared you the nasty hangover later." The older hunter's gaze went back to the deep, still oozing cuts on Dean's chest.

"Jus' get it over, okay." Dean blinked groggily, the painkillers slowly kicking in.

Bobby worked fast and practiced, re-opening the wounds and cleaning them with Peroxide. He really hoped that this and the antibiotics would be enough to beat the infection.

Dean groaned, one hand fisting tightly in the bedding. His whole body tensed with pain.

"Dean, you need to breathe," Bobby said seriously, stopping for a moment to give the younger hunter some time to recover. He really hoped Dean would pass out soon, because the fun part was still to come.

"You ready?"

Dean nodded slightly, drawing in shaky gulps of air.

Bobby continued in silence, trying to blend out Dean's moans of pain.

"It's okay. I'm almost done," he assured gently. "You doing great."

Tying up the last knot, his gaze went back to Dean. The hunter's face was paler than before, except for the flushed cheeks. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead and temples, gluing strands of dark hair to it, but couldn't quite mask the pained frown that was clearly visible.

"I'm almost done. The worst is over now," Bobby reassured once again, applying antibiotic cream to the wounds before bandaging them.

Once again his gaze traveled back to Dean's face. He placed a hand lightly against the younger Winchester's forehead. He felt warmer than before. Damn.

Dean's eyes blinked open to mere slits, the green glassy and unfocused.

"Sleep, my boy. It's okay." Bobby gently brushed some strands away.

"Why did S'mmy leave? How could he do that?" The words were slurred and barely above a whisper. And still there was so much pain in them.

Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand absently over his beard. "I wish I knew, boy. But it's college, Dean. He's not gone forever." He could see that it was getting harder and harder for Dean to keep his eyes open. "Sleep. "


I'm still having some more ideas so maybe there will be a third chapter to this story.

Thank you all for your unbelievable support! And reviews certainly feed my muse! ;)