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"Bobby Would've Loved This Place"

Sam sat quietly at the tables in the main room of the Letters library. Dean observed him for a moment before heading down the iron stairs to join him. Books were spread in neat piles over most of the available table space, some open, some with bits of paper marking pages, others waiting to be read. A laptop and spiral notebook rested nearby, taking up their own corner of real estate.

But Sam wasn't reading or taking notes. His eyes were fixed on the page in front of him, but he wasn't seeing it. Dean recognized the expression on his brother's face. Sam was thinking – hard – about something tough.

Dean snagged two bottles of water from the fridge (it was too early for anything else) and set one next to Sam. He sat across the table from his brother and waited for Sam to return from the depths of his brain. When Dean's water bottle was about half gone, Sam roused.


"Hey, yourself. So what's the gerbil spinning his wheel about?"

Sam scrunched his eyebrows for a second, processing. Then he smiled faintly.

"It's a hamster, Dean, not a gerbil."

"Nah. Gerbils are more bad ass. Lean, tough, little bodies, long whippy tails. Hamsters? C'mon – wimps of the rodent world. Fluffy, tail-less little freaks."

He grinned and Sam laughed.

"I was thinking about this place."

Again, Dean waited. This time though, his patience ran out.


"Oh." Sam shifted in his seat. "Just that Bobby would've loved this place."

Dean felt the familiar tightening in his chest that always happened when they spoke of Bobby, Dad, or Cold Oak.

"Sam, he had a good life. A long life as far as hunters go. And we got a bit of extra time, a chance to say goodbye at the end. Most people don't get that."

"I know. Yeah. I wasn't thinking about Bobby in a sad way. Not really. Just – what I said. He would have loved this place. All this information, all the other hunters he could have helped because he could have found answers here."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You're right. Actually, Bobby would have been a good man of letters. If they could put up with the crankiness." A smile curved the edges of his mouth.

"I know. Just imagine the first time somebody messed up – put a book away wrong, read the wrong ingredient for protection."


"Exactly." Sam took a swig of water. "Anyway, thinking about Bobby got me thinking about Dad. Wondering what might be different if Henry survived, made it back to his own time to raise Dad. How different would Dad be? Would he and Mom still have married? Could he have talked to her about this, protected her better? What would our lives be like now, if any of those things were different?"

Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Thinking like that will make you crazy."

"Maybe. It just seems like there are so many puzzle pieces. So many things that had to happen, just so, for us to end up here. Like dominoes, or a Rube Goldberg machine. You take out one piece and the whole thing stops."

Dean stayed silent, sensing that Sam wasn't finished.

"All of that got me thinking about us. Where we're going to end up. Are we going to end up like Bobby – helping out other younger hunters when we can't hunt anymore ourselves? Acting as mentors? Or will we blast out of here in a blaze of glory, fighting until the end, but dying young?"

They contemplated both options for a while.

Dean sat forward and placed his elbows on the table. "Which way would you rather go?"

Sam chuckled and broke the tension. "At this point in our lives, both have a certain appeal. It doesn't matter really. You know…" He shrugged and looked over the table at Dean.

"As long as we're together?"

Sam nodded a bit and repeat more firmly, "As long as we're together."

Dean grinned.

"Okay, geek," he slapped the table, "What did you find out when you did some actual research here?"


"Awesome. Show me."