It was a quiet night, but not one of those nights that Bobby would qualify as "almost too quiet". Waiting for a Leviathan or some other creature to come out of the dark coupled with pain medication and the knowledge that his ability to make a fast getaway was seriously hampered had Dean as jumpy as a cat, but the quiet wasn't the kind that raised his hackles or set off any alarm bells. He was between pills, but the pain wasn't so bad that he was desperate for another one; he was almost relaxed.
It wasn't the kind of quiet that indicated that Sam was having a bad night either. It wasn't one of the now familiar, scary silences filled with Dean's repeated and increasingly insistent pleas for Sam to respond. Sam hadn't been "absent" for almost six hours – that was some kind of record. Bobby hoped Sam could make it until he turned in for the night, but that was a few hours off and anything could happen.
They had fallen into a routine of sorts in Rufus' cabin now that both of the boys were upright and semi-mobile. Bobby would shoo them out to the living room after dinner grumbling about cleaning their dirty dishes but happy enough to have someone left to cook for, even if it wasn't in his own kitchen. Depending on who was feeling better, it was up to the boys to entertain or distract the other, at least long enough to leave Bobby in peace for a little while or until it was time for Dean to take another pill.
Bobby kept half an ear on the rustling from the other room. The downside to Dean being able to tolerate longer stretches without medication was that his natural restlessness kicked in and the enforced immobility made him cranky. Bobby didn't catch who had the idea, but a little while later, with a great deal of assistance from Sam, Dean was seated, leaned back against the Impala's windshield with his leg propped up on some couch cushions, beer in hand, looking happier than a pig in shit. Of course, he was on the driver's side. It was really no surprise when Sam climbed up and sat down next to him.
The boys were quiet for a long time; they both seemed so comfortable with it and that surprised Bobby. He wasn't exactly eavesdropping when they started talking; there was just nothing else to listen to.
"Good view." Dean offered taking a pull from his beer.
"Yeah, pretty good." Sam used his right arm to cushion his head as he tipped it back for a better view.
Riveting thought Bobby and he continued puttering around in the kitchen trying to ignore the impulse to go into the den and sit down with a pile of his books. Old habits and all that.
Dean sighed heavily. "It's a lot different than Bobby's."
"Trees blocking the view instead of cars," Sam agreed. He took a sip of his own beer. "Smells better though."
Dean looked affronted. "No it doesn't! Give me the smell of axel grease over pine trees any day."
"You're weird," Sam chuckled indulgently.
Dean glared at him, "You miss the smell of those books – admit it."
Then it was Sam's turn to sigh. He didn't have to admit it out loud; Bobby understood, he missed that smell too.
"You remember the time we made a fort in the bedroom stacking those grimoires as weight bearing pillars to hold up the blankets?"
Dean's grin was easy to see in the twilight. "That was a good fort." He raised his bottle and Sam clinked it with his in agreement. "Dad would've lost his shit if he saw what a mess we made."
Sam made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. "Bobby was helping us out even back then."
"Hey…what about that time I made you run that obstacle course out in the yard?"
Sam let out a genuine laugh. "You never thought I'd make it."
"Not on the first try…no way! It was an impressive run, Sammy." Dean raised his bottle in salute again.
"What about that Halloween?" asked Sam. "Dad was on a hunt, but Bobby took us "trick or treating" in the yard."
"Ohhhh," Dean nodded. "Peanut M&Ms…"
"…and the tire tower!" they finished together.
"That was awesome," Dean agreed.
"That was a pain in my ass," Bobby interjected. His presence was met with twin grins from the Winchesters. "But, totally worth it." He raised his own newly opened beer toward them.
Sam continued with more "Do you remember when?" questions and they traded new sides to old stories. Each new version of a tale only reinforced the feelings of home as they mourned the loss of the place that had been a home to all of them. When the comfortable silence fell once again, Bobby was included. He tipped back his chair, crossed his feet on the porch rail and enjoyed the quiet.