Summary: Bobby doesn't just have to deal with his own problems, he's also got to deal with the Winchesters. Spoilers for 5.02.

A/N: Um, this is mostly unadulterated schmoop, I guess, prompted by the events of 'Good God, Y'all.' Those boys just break my heart.


A Thousand Words

"Damn fools," Bobby Singer muttered, as he used the remote control to turn off the flickering image of the five o'clock news weather forecast. "You'd think somebody out there'd realise that heavy snow in July is a sign that something's not right in the world. Especially as it's falling in California."

When there was no response to his grumblings, Bobby glanced over at the only other occupant of the room. Sam Winchester was sitting slumped in a chair next to the large window that looked out onto the hospital parking lot, his long legs stretched out before him. As he watched, Sam heaved a mournful sigh.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. The kid might have started the apocalypse, but at least he could still walk. "What's your problem?" he demanded shortly.

Sam did not answer, and instead continued to stare blankly out of the window.

Bobby frowned. "Hey!" he bellowed.

Sam started abruptly, then flicked a guilty glance at Bobby. "Sorry, Bobby," he said hurriedly, looking almost embarrassed as he stood up and turned to face him properly. "What did you say?"

"I said what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, right. So you're just sitting there sighing like a lovesick teenager because you've got nothing better to do, is that it?"

"I'm not sighing like a lovesick-"

"Yeah, you are. And I'm sick of listening to it. So just spit whatever's bothering you out before I make you."

Sam looked for a second as though he was about to refuse, but then his shoulders slumped helplessly.

"DeangaveCashisamulet," he blurted out, speaking so fast that the words blended together.

Bobby blinked. "Come again?"

Sam's face reddened slightly. "Dean gave Castiel his amulet," he repeated. "And, I don't know…it just…it doesn't feel right. For Dean not to have it on him."

Bobby stared at him blankly. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Sam's brow furrowed as he frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My legs don't work, and you're moping about a damn necklace?"

"No! I mean, yes, but-"

"And you expect to get some sympathy from me?"

"No, of course not! It's just that it's kind of our thing, you know? I mean, I gave it to Dean for Christmas and-"

"Get out."

"But Bobby, I-"

"Out. Now. And don't come back 'til you've turned into a man again."

His face still red, Sam sent him one last apologetic look, then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Bobby scowled. "Damn Winchesters," he muttered to himself, and reached over to turn the television back on.


Half an hour later, Bobby watched wordlessly as Dean Winchester entered his room and sank down onto the same chair that his brother had vacated only a short while before.

"Hey, Bobby."

Bobby flicked the television off. "Hey, yourself."

"How're you doing?"

"My legs don't work," Bobby replied shortly. "How're you?"

Dean shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

Bobby looked at him, but when Dean didn't say anything more, he reached for the remote to the television once more. Just as he was about to turn it on, however, he heard a mournful sigh from the direction of the window.

Bobby paused, then looked at the elder Winchester brother, who was sitting slumped in the low-slung chair, his legs stretched out before him as he stared vacantly out into the parking lot.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Bobby muttered to himself.

Dean started and twisted round to face him. "Huh? You say something, Bobby?"

"Get out of my room, boy."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not gonna have you moping about in here about a damn piece of jewellery."

Dean looked startled. "How did you-"

"I just do. Now get the hell out of here and go get me a piece of pie of something. And ask that damn brother of yours to tell you what I told him when he came in here crying about that damn amulet."

"Sam was crying?"


Still looking confused, Dean left, closing the door softly behind him. Settling awkwardly back into his bed, Bobby turned on the news again. Clueless weathergirls or not, it was a damn sight better than dealing with the Winchesters.


Please tell me that I wasn't the only one who found Dean giving Castiel his amulet really sad. Thanks for reading, and remember, feedback is love!