Chapter 33

Bobby sat in his chair in his library at his desk with the crackling fireplace casting a warm glow from behind him. He was just skimming through some more books for just anything that would help Sam. At this rate, he didn't care what he found – as long as they got Sam out of that body.

Suddenly, his head snapped up as his name was called urgently from downstairs.

Nervously, Bobby automatically made a grab for his rifle which hung on the wall and headed toward the kitchen. When he reached the door, he tossed it open and quickly stepped down the stairs with his gun held readily in front of him.

But once Dean came into view, the kid looked…excited? Relieved?

Immediately, Bobby lowered his gun and stepped over toward the younger hunter almost hesitantly. "What's the matter?"

Dean pointed toward the large iron door which separated them from the Beast. Bobby looked toward it before looking back at Dean curiously.

"Just look." Dean egged on with a smile on his face.

Bobby shrugged, and peered into the Panic Room through the slot hesitantly. Nothing was different. The Beast just sat on the floor in front of the cot, surrounded by mounds of its fur, with its eyes glancing up at him happily.

"Why's it shedding? It's gettin' its summer coat or somethin'?" Bobby asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean caught the attempt at humor and chuckled halfheartedly. "I didn't think it shed, either…"

"Strange…" Bobby murmured, still looking at the creature in the tiny room with curiosity. Something about it was different.

The Beast got up, and paced over toward the door slowly. Bobby didn't miss the fact that its demeanor had completely changed. It didn't look like it was heading in to kill, or continue its attempt to knock the door down. Instead, its big sad eyes kept staring at Bobby as it stood on its hind legs as it reached the door.

Bobby took a hesitant step back, not wanting to be near the door when the creature tried to ram it down again.

…But its assault on the door never came.

Instead it looked him in the eye intently. Bobby broke its gaze for only a moment to blink away the surprise as it looked the animal up and down.

At the moment, the creature looked more like a giant dog than a Beast. But it had to be a trick. It had to be trying a new tactic in order to gain their trust.

Bobby sighed as he took a step away from the door to look at Dean – who was watching him expectantly with the biggest smile Bobby had seen in months. It was a bit of a relief, but at the same time – he feared what it meant for Dean and his sanity.

"Sammy's comin' back." Dean announced in a shaky whisper as if he were too scared to speak any louder.

Bobby exhaled deeply as he glanced back and forth between the creature watching them from behind the door, and Dean. There was no way to break this to him gently.

"Dean…do you really believe that?" Bobby asked in a calming tone, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.

Immediately, Dean's smile dropped at the same time as the Beast let out an almost pained whine followed by a short growl – though it didn't sound threatening.

"What do you mean? Look at him! Sam's gonna change back!" Dean yelled, trying to get Bobby to understand.

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes to hide from Dean the clear disbelief shining through. "Kid…I know it's hard. But Sam ain't comin' back."

"He is!" Dean exclaimed, while tossing his arms in the air as emphasis. "My brother is right there! I was right! The curse is lifting!"

It broke Bobby's heart to see Dean this way. There was no way Sam was coming back, and Dean was blaming himself. If Dean had been seeing this with a straight mind, he'd see how impossible Sam's return was.

Still, Bobby turned his attention to the Beast just on the other side of the door and saw a certain spark in those hazel eyes that had been missing for so long.


Bobby startled as he stared unblinkingly at the monster whom was glaring black at him with a tilt in its head looking curious…not deadly.

It had to be a trick. The Beast must have figured out a way to screw with them. This couldn't be…Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered half hysterically.

The canine Beast whined as it tilted its head toward Dean, acknowledging him with a slight nod.

What the hell was going on here?

"Are you the real deal, dude?" Dean asked, carefully replacing his bravado over his relief and fear, "Not that mutt that's been trying to eat us?"

The monster grumbled and snorted in a distasteful fashion. It wasn't a blatant yes or no.

"Give us some kind of proof." Bobby finally interjected forcefully, "How can we believe you're really Sam?"


How the hell am I gonna convince Bobby that I'm me? Sam thought to himself frantically. He knew Bobby wasn't an idiot, so it had to be something good.

It wasn't like he could rattle off any sort of 'Sammy' memory…his currently canine snout didn't seem to comply with human speech, unfortunately for him.

And it wasn't like he could exactly hold a pen and write out a message, Sam thought to himself as he cursed his lack of opposable thumbs.

He stomped a paw on the cement floor beneath him in frustration as his unsheathed claws clicked on the hard floor.

Realization dawned on him, and his ears twitched at the noise.

He knew what to do.


Dean and Bobby watched the creature expectantly, both holding their breaths waiting for it to do something to either convince them it was Sam, or try to chew its way through the door again.

They both hoped it was Sam.

But for a moment nothing happened, the canine monster only stared at them, as if deep in thought. When suddenly, a clicking noise in short patterns pulled Dean's attention.

Click, click, scratch, click, click.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, not really understanding what was happening. He looked in the room and looked down at the Beasts paws as it raised its right paw and placed it on the cement ground, its claws the source of the noise.

"I'll be damned…" Bobby muttered with wide tear-filled eyes.

"What?" Dean asked, obviously not getting it.

Click, click…scratch…click, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, click…click, click, click…click, scratch, click…click…click, scratch... click, scratch, click, click…click, scratch, click, click…scratch, click, scratch, scratch…scratch, scratch…click

Now Dean had to admit, THAT was strange. It seemed a little too systematic.

He mulled the sounds over in his mind over and over when it finally fell into place, realization dawning on his face as joyful tears sprang to his eyes.

"Morse code." Dean murmured.

'It's really me.' Sam had said.

The creature – Sam nodded eagerly.

Immediately Dean reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He sniffled as he hit the number which immediately dialed their fathers' number. He held the phone to his ear and waited impatiently for their father to answer.

After a couple minutes, it went to John's voicemail. Dean sighed impatiently as he disconnected, but held the phone in front of him.

With shaky fingers he text his father a simple two word message…

'Sam's ok!"


John was already two towns over, on his way to the next hunt. Some demons had been causing the locals trouble in a little town in West Texas. It was a few days drive, but John figured that's what he needed.

He needed some time to himself to deal with the fact that he had just lost his youngest. He knew that pain would never die; it would always be with him.

That, and the feeling of complete and utter failure. He had failed as a father to keep his son safe.

Tears threatened to spill, the more John thought about it that way. But it was the way he felt about it.

His son and wife were dead, and all he could do now was mourn and kill the supernatural scum bags that killed them.

John would deal with Sam's demise the same way he dealt with Mary's…


Suddenly, John's phone went off loudly from his pocket, distracting him from his melancholy. He fished his phone from his pocket with a frustrated sigh before withdrawing it – his left hand still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The ID flashed Dean's name brightly.

He didn't feel like talking right now. At the risk of seeming like a terrible father, John just didn't want to live his loss with his remaining son just yet.

John sighed as he placed the phone on the passengers' seat and just let it ring.

When it stopped ringing, John placed his left elbow out the window, his hand rubbing his temple as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him.

He would speak to Dean when he got to his destination, in the meantime – Dean could go ahead and leave him a message.

Just as that thought occurred to him, his phone lit up again and buzzed on the seat eagerly.

John exhaled sharply as he grabbed for his phone again and held it up to his face, while still steeling a look at the road every couple of seconds.

Dean had text him.

With an annoyed grunt, John opened the phone and glanced at his sons' message.

Immediately, John slammed on the brakes of his old truck and for a moment thanked God that he was the only one on the abandoned road at this hour.

Tears spilled down his cheek as he read the message over and over as if there was some other hidden meaning behind them.

There couldn't be, right?

John instantly hit the read button to get rid of the message before dialing Dean's cell number with shaky fingers.

Dean answered on the first ring.

Did you think I was going to leave you?

I'm sorry, guys. Admittedly, I had lost my muse to this poor story. I and really do feel bad for leaving things off the way I did. So here's a new chapter!

The next one won't take as long! I promise! :D