Title: Reprieve

Author: Obi the Kid

Rating: PG

Summary: Takes place during 7.4 (The Girl Next Door), a few days after they escape the hospital. Bobby POV. Sam has a breakdown and then he, Dean and Bobby get a brief respite to gather themselves and their emotions in the wake of the Leviathans and Lucifer.

Note: Yes, another Bobby POV fic. I can't help it though. He provides the perfect voice for Sam and Dean. I actually wrote this before the events of episode 7.4, and then had to modify it a bit to fit in a little more once the episode aired. The big main difference is that they have the Impala back already, whereas in 7.4, they don't get it back until 3 weeks after the hospital. Hope you all enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or commented on any of my SPN stories. I truly do appreciate you taking the time to read my stories.

It's about damn time, is all I have to say. Not that these two needed more pain and angst in their disheveled lives, but after weeks of teetering on the edge, it looks like Sam finally collapsed under the weight of the aftermath of Hell.

I knew somethin' was up when I pulled close to the house and didn't see Dean hobblin' around on his cast-broken leg, working on those new dents the Impala had recently acquired. No, instead Dean was with Sam on the front porch with his brother's head buried in his chest and Dean with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other on the nape of his neck. From this distance, it was easy enough to see Sam's entire body shakin'.

Emotional collapse. Thank God.

It wouldn't help in the long run, but short term, it was a damn miracle. He'd been tryin' to deal with this on his own – tryin' hard too. Sam's nothin' if not determined. And Dean's been lettin' him. Or at least pretending to. Yeah, that was goin' well. Or not.

You can't deal with the types of memories and nightmares that Sam's sufferin' and stay in control 24/7. And Lucifer playing with his mind like he is, discombobulatin' the kid until his realities are completely skewed. Dean's been able to help Sam start to rebuild his sanity or at least keep a tether on it, but a breakdown was bound to happen. And here it was.

I didn't want to invade the personal space, but I did have to get to the house. The Sheriff's house, that was. Sheriff Jodi Mills. She'd given us a temporary hideout for a few days. We weren't stayin' long. She didn't need any additional attention dragged her way. It did give us a respite to figure out our next path and to deal with all we'd lost – all I'd lost – when the Leviathans torched my home. The three of us were safe for the moment though and on the porch, Dean had a snug hold of his brother, rockin' him a bit and repeatin' the same words over and over.

"S'okay, Sammy. I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay…everything's gonna be okay."

Sam's sobs were quiet, but deep. His shoulders were shudderin' hard despite Dean's efforts to settle him. Hell, Dean looked as beaten as his brother with red and watery eyes, battling for Sam's sanity as he was.

I got close and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, son?"

Now, Dean Winchester is many things, but honest with his emotions ain't one of 'em. He'll dig them things in so deep and top it with a layer of alcohol that it's almost impossible to get him to admit to what he's really feelin'. It's why I had to do a double take when his answer to my question was as honest as anything he's ever said to me…and in one simple, heartbroken word.

"No."

Damn it all. Sam had succeeded in breaking not only himself but his hard-shelled brother too.

Hell if I was leavin' 'em now. The take-out bag I had in my hand would just have to wait its turn.

I kept my hand on Dean's shoulder as he looked at me with those despairin' eyes. Here was a man who'd spent the last twenty-five or so years of his life protectin' the little brother currently wrapped in his arms. To hear him say it, it was his one job. His one responsibility. And each time Sam fell, Dean chalked it up as another one of his screw ups to that one job that had been given to him by his Daddy all those years ago.

No doubt this was yet another failure in his mind.

Truth is, there ain't no way in hell Dean could've stopped this from comin'. I guess he knew that. I hope he did. Didn't matter really. Not as his little brother broke down in his arms.

I've felt helpless in the past, but nothin' like right now. Still, I had to stick around and do what I could, even if that was only a tired attempt at comfort.

"He needed this, Dean. You know that. Walkin' that edge like he's been doin' ain't healthy. Those emotions were gonna self implode soon enough with all that Lucifer and those damn hallucinations been throwin' at him. It's better that it happened here and not out on the road. He'll be all right."

Dean gave me a hushed and tremulous "yeah" and tightened his grip on his brother as Sam pushed himself closer – like that was even possible – into Dean's shirt. "Right here, Sammy. I'm not leavin'. It's gonna be okay. I promise."

So, I sat and they sat as dusk fell into night. Sam had finally quieted several long minutes ago, but he hadn't made any attempt at pickin' his head up. The food in the bag beside me was pretty darn cold by now. I'd be surprised if any of us felt like eatin' it anyway.

A quarter hour passed and Sam did finally move from Dean's grasp, but not completely. He allowed his big brother to keep a hand on his arm - anchoring him to what was real.

Both were quiet, so I kept my mouth shut too. Eventually the three of us got up and walked into the house. On his brother's orders, Sam went immediately into the living room and settled on the couch. Dean, setting his crutches on the floor, force-fed himself some of the cold take-out.

"How the hell does anyone eat this crap when it falls below room temperature!"

"We coulda heated it up, Dean."

"Yeah, only thing worse tastin' than cold fast food are nuked fast food fries. No thanks." He tossed the sandwich down a little harder than he expected to. The bun bounced over into my meal. "Sorry, Bobby. Thanks though."

"You weren't lyin' to him when you told him everything would be okay, Dean. It will be. In time."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I thought we'd turned a corner for a bit there, but this Lucifer crap might have broken him, Bobby. For good."

"No, not Sam. He'll find a way to deal with all of this. Live with it if he has to. He ain't broken completely. And if he ain't broken completely…we'll figure it out."

"Yeah." Dean got up and tossed his half eaten food in the trash. "I'd better go check on him." Grabbing only one crutch this time, he began his stagger towards the living room, but turned back to me. "Thanks, Bobby."

I felt eyes on the back of my head. Sheriff Jodi Mills, decked out in street clothes, came into the kitchen. She pulled a chair out and sat.

"I really don't want to know what this is all about, Bobby Singer. What those things are that ate my hospital roommate. What you and these boys are really talking about when you say things like Lucifer and Hell and Leviathans. I could take an educated guess, but I don't think I want to."

I smiled. "No, you probably don't."

"And I probably don't want to know what's wrong with Sam either. I don't know those boys well, but the whole scene on the porch just now, people don't emotionally fall apart like that unless something big has gone down. And even before that, when you got here this morning…he looked like hell."

"Yeah, pardon the pun."

"What?"

"Nothin'. Look, Sheriff…sorry. Jodi. If you want the entire truth, I'll let you in on it. But in all honesty, you're probably safer knowin' as little about these boys as possible."

From our spot in the kitchen, we could see into the living room. Sam was sitting on the couch, elbows restin' on his knees, his right hand held outward, palm up. Dean sat across from him on the coffee table, inspecting, cleaning and re-wrapping the large triangle-shaped cut on that hand that still hadn't healed completely. The older brother then pushed the younger back onto the pillow and pointed to his legs. Sam pulled them onto the couch and lay as vertical as he could get with his long frame. The nearby chair proved an easy spot for Dean to stretch out with his leg cast once his brother was settled.

Sheriff Mills turned back to me. "I've got two spare rooms, you know, and that's not the world's most comfortable couch."

"Don't matter. I'll take you up on a room though. These boys are in a spot right now. Best to just leave 'em to their own."

"It has something to do with the organ-eating creatures at the hospital."

"It's…related. It's not the cause of Sam's problems though."

Part of me wanted to spill the beans and just flat out tell her the whole damn story. But, I couldn't do that. Too much at stake for all of us – including Sam's sanity. I hoped she'd be content with knowin' that we were the good guys and the bad guys were not somethin' to be messed with.

"My best advice, Jodi, would be to stay away from any reports that seem similar to what you saw in the hospital."

"Bobby, I'm the local Sheriff. I can't ignore…whatever that was."

"You can if you wanna live. You know that old sayin' that ignorance is the best policy?"

"I don't think that's exactly how it…"

"Better make it so then. These…things, they won't think twice about killin' you and then snackin' themselves a human-liver sandwich for lunch. I mean it. Don't mess with 'em. In fact, don't even think about messin' with 'em."

She got up and fiddled with the coffee maker until we each had a much needed hot steamin' cup of Joe in front of us. Felt like heaven going down and warmin' the stomach. Slight commotion in the living room got our attention and Jodi moved a few feet closer. I followed to make sure everything was all right. Figured it would be. Dean was there.

Out of a half dazed nap, Sam had suddenly jutted upright in a sweat. From here, his face looked disheveled. Lucifer again. Damn the Devil. Out of the chair with several awkward movements, Dean was back in front of his brother, again holding the gimp hand and pressing on the wound.

The Sheriff gave me a perplexing look. "What the hell is he doing?"

"Fixin' his brother." Our attention refocused on the boys.

"Real pain, right Sammy? He can mess with your mind all he wants, but this pain…you know it's real. Focus on me, brother. Remember the stones, man. Not a very impressive pile yet, but we're building, right?"

Sam calmed and nodded, taking his hand from Dean's grasp and running his hand over the bandage. Eyes were glistenin' as he folded his hands into his lap.

"He's gone, Dean. It's okay."

"No, you're not convinced yet. Look at me, Sam."

Sam did. They shared an intense moment of eye contact that would have unnerved most anyone else. But not these two. Dean was Sam's only grounding to reality. Sam knew it deep down, but sometimes it had to be pulled out of him.

"Gone?"

"Yeah."

"Good. How's your hand?"

"It's not bleeding anymore. But it's not healing very fast either, Dean."

"Yeah, looks okay though, and we ain't takin' any chances with another hospital right now, so just keep an eye on it. My stitches are pretty damn tight there, you gotta admit. You know how hard that area is to sew up. I shoulda been a doctor."

"With a GED?"

"Shut uuup."

I finished off my heavenly coffee and went to pour myself another cup. Jodi kept her position, but spun around to face the kitchen. "So, not only are these boys seeing things that aren't there, but they also apparently like to play doctor in their spare time."

"Well to be fair, only one of them is seeing things and they learned to stitch each other up before they learned to drive."

"Interesting childhood."

"You have no idea. They've managed though."

"You're family then, watching them grow up."

"Not by blood."

"But you're still here, looking after them."

"Someone's gotta. They get themselves into a crap load of messes every other week. Someone's gotta be an anchor. They had to have someplace to come home to." A tinge of pain went through me at that thought. What was home anymore except a burned up, hallowed out shell of charcoal? "Well, they used to have a place to come home to."

"You lived there a lot of years, Bobby. Lots of memories, I'm sure."

"Memories and a hell of a lot of other things too. Anyway, thanks for puttin' us up. You've no idea how much we needed a time out."

"What's next?"

"For me? No idea really. These boy's been livin' in hotel rooms for as long as they can remember. That and their car. They'll be okay. These old bones ain't gonna take to hotel livin' for very long, but for temporary purposes, I'll deal. We've got bigger fish to fry anyway."

We were interrupted by Dean in the entranceway to the kitchen. "Coffee. Nice. Would you mind, Sheriff?"

"Not at all. Help yourself."

My eyes followed Dean from point A to point B. He surprised me by lumberin' himself down at the table instead of returning to Sam once his coffee was in hand.

"How's your brother?"

"Okay, for now." There as a low glance directed at our host. I tried to ease his mind a bit.

"You can talk, Dean. Jodi here isn't asking questions."

A tired smile grinned her way. "Probably for the best. Sam is…he was hurtin', Bobby. Mentally, I mean. We were working on the dents on the Impala and he'd had a couple of those small flashes, but then something set him off completely and he just fell apart. He started freakin' out and everything. I about wrestled him to the ground after that, which ain't easy wearin' this damn thing." He pointed to his long leg cast. "Then you found us on the porch."

"He needed that. You know that, right? He's been waiting to explode for a while now. Just needed the right moment for it to happen. He was allowed to finally let his guard down for the first time in a while. Guard down, easier for the nasty stuff to get in and play with your mind."

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't make it any damn easier though. Sam doesn't go to pieces very often. I mean, completely to pieces."

"You doin' okay?"

"Honestly? Let's not go there right now. Can't have both of us losin' our emotional marbles at the same time, huh? Anyway, thanks for putting us up, Sheriff. Gotta keep movin' though. See if I can get Sam to sleep some tonight and we'll head out tomorrow sometime."

Jodi shook her head and put a gentle but firm hand on Dean's. "No and no. You're staying put for a few days until all three of you are rested and until you've had a chance to figure out what your next step is in trying to kill these creatures that almost ate me. I'm not sure about you, but I don't appreciate almost being devoured."

Couldn't argue with that one. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, right?

"So, as long as we are safe here, you are staying put. I won't ask any questions that I know you don't want to answer. I won't ask why your brother is an emotional disaster. You've helped me in the past.

I have the ability to offer a little payback. And since I'm still technically on sick leave during my post-operative recovery, perhaps you both can give me a little information on how to kill these things!"

Dean and I replied in unison. "No idea." I expanded. "We haven't figured out how to kill 'em yet. Bullets don't work. Tossin' a car on 'em don't work. Oh, it'll slow 'em down for a couple minutes, but death? Nope. We've got a lot of ideas to try, but they all involve getting close to them things and well, I enjoy my innards exactly where they are right now."

"So then what'll we do?"

Sam's slightly panicked voice sounded from the living room. All three of us were up and moving to him. Sam hadn't been lying down but was upright when he dozed off. Dean took up his coffee table spot again and set his hands on his brother's knees.

"Right here, Sammy. Look at me. Feel my hands. You're okay."

Shaking his head and blinking hard, Sam sighed a frustratingly fear-filled breath. "Sorry. He was there, then you were gone and I thought…"

"Yeah, that was my fault. Coffee called. You want a cup?"

Sam nodded and Jodi said from beside me. "I'll get it, Dean."

"Black, two teaspoons of sugar. Thanks, Sheriff."

"Dean." Sam had put his hands on top of those that sat on his knees.

"Right here."

"Don't like this couch."

Dean smirked towards his brother. "Yeah well, if you weren't so damned tall, this wouldn't be a problem now, would it?"

A cup of black coffee waved in front of Dean's face as Jodi said, "Extra bedroom is just down the hall. Sam is welcome to the bed. I've got a cot I can put on the floor next to him…" She left unsaid the, 'if you need to stay with your brother', bit. Not that it was needed anyway. "Boys, humor me, please? You'll be here for a few days - you may as well be comfortable. And that couch just doesn't qualify. Now, go. Down that way. First door on the right. Go. Now. Both of you!"

With a raise of his eyebrows, Dean stood and said "Yes, ma'am. Come on, Sam."

Not surprisingly, Sam was sluggish and confused when Dean pulled him up. "Where we goin'?"

"The Sheriff has ordered us out of the living room. There's a bed for you down the hall."

"'kay. Hey, Dean?"

"Keeping movin', Sam. I'll follow you."

I tried the couch. Yeah, it was crap. Can't blame Sam for being out of sorts on the thing. Jodi gave me an 'I told you so' look.

An hour passed. All seemed quiet. I checked in on the boys before I turned in – my room being the second door on the left – Sam was sound asleep, buried in a gorilla-sized blanket and head plastered to a large overstuffed pillow. Dean had found a small desk chair and was sitting at just the right angle to be able to watch his brother with one eye and see out the window with the other. Don't think he was lookin' for anything in particular, just starrin'. The idjit should be sleepin', but I figured to leave the lecture for another day.

Another day turned out to be a few seconds later. Before I disappeared into my borrowed bedroom, I caught a dark glimpse of Dean leanin' halfway on a crutch and halfway against the open door to where Sam slept. I mirrored his stance.

"You all right, son?"

I saw Dean's shadowed shoulders shrug. "I'll live. Feels really strange staying here though. Gotta admit, I miss your old place already. Sorry, Bobby. We really haven't had a chance to mourn what you lost. It meant a lot to me and Sam, but it was your home for just about ever. We'll get those Leviathan bastards that burned it up. We owe 'em big time for that."

My turn to shrug. "Yeah, well. I'm safe. You boys are safe."

"Yeah but, Bobby…"

"Let's not dwell on it, Dean."

"Well, we did find a few things of importance that you'd stashed in Impala's trunk of all places. Good move there."

"It pays to be a paranoid bastard in our line of work. Sam looks comfortable enough."

"He's quiet, and for him that's a good thing."

"Don't forget to rest yourself."

"I will. First things first though."

I held up my hands. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Look after Sam first. You second. I know the drill. I'm serious though, Dean. You ain't no good to Sam if you ain't rested. And not in that chair you were sittin' in either. The cot is next to the wall behind you. Broken leg or not, use it. Or sleep on the damn floor. Don't matter, don't care, but sleep. Understand?"

The hall was dimly lit, but I could see the slight smile on Dean's face as he gave me the standard, "Yes, sir" line. When I came back into the hall a moment later, the cot was gone.

The next morning, and the two that followed, I found the room empty. Each time, the kitchen held only one occupant and it wasn't Sam or Dean. Jodi, the night owl that she seemed to be during our stay, motioned towards the two chairs on the front porch.

"Same as last night and the night before. They've been out there since about midnight. Not much talking. Mostly just sitting quiet and looking up at the stars."

Outside, I leaned against the rail closest to Dean, but Sam's the one who responded to my question of, "You boys okay?"

"It's quiet here, Bobby. Peaceful quiet." In Sam language that meant there hadn't been a lot of Lucifer haunting him since the breakdown and aftermath during that first day. He was around, sure, but just not as prevalent. "Maybe he's just taking a break."

"Don't trust the quiet, kid, but don't not enjoy it either."

Dean spoke next. "Figured we'd soak up some stars and sun before we went headlong into monster-land. Time out's over. Game's back on. Well, as soon as I get two workable legs. We're packed. Not that we had much. Ready to move out when you are, Bobby."

I set my keys in Dean's hand. "Start the Camaro for me, will ya? I'll be out in a couple shakes."

Jodi promised to call if any out-of-the-ordinary organ-eaters started making headlines. From inside the house, I took a last glance at the boys before I headed back out. I hoped that Sam didn't get spoiled by his Lucifer-free time. I knew the sum-bitch would be back to haunt the kid's mind. But right now? Those two idjits out there seemed like your average, every-day annoying brothers sitting on the front porch, pickin' at and pesterin' each other.

A much welcomed light moment in these damn days of dark.

We'd had a few days of almost normal. Normal for us. The reality of our screwed up lives was back in front of us, but I couldn't help but have a bit of hope. These boys and I, we'd done the impossible before. No reason we couldn't do it again.

I walked to my car as Sam closed the trunk on the Impala. He hesitated a minute – and it wasn't hard to tell that a bad memory was trying to surface. His shoulders jumped as Dean rounded the car, grabbed his arm and held it there for long seconds. Not sure what was said between 'em, but it was enough to refocus the kid enough to manage driving duties. Seemed that Sam's vacation was over and with nothin' but us between the Leviathans and the world, we needed him sane. More than that, Dean needed him sane. Hell, Dean was the only one, other than Sam himself, with any chance to keep him sane.

I followed the Impala down the drive and onto the connecting back road.

We had nothin' but us.

An old, now-homeless drunk and two emotionally shattered boys - once again on their way to try and save the world…and each other.

The end.