Bonds Tested

Dream A Little Dream of Me -- Bobby

~*****~

"I'm sure Sam is fine, Dean..." I murmur as I follow after him towards the only bar for miles. My nose crinkled up in irritation at the stale scent of cigarettes that stuck in the air. Dean gazed around for a moment before surging in, beelining for his brother.

"There you are. What are you doing?" Dean asks urgently as I just shake my head at him.

Sam shrugged. "Having a drink." He says normally.

"It's two in the afternoon. Drinking whiskey?" Dean asks.

"I drink whiskey all the time." Sam retorts.

"No, you don't." Dean immediately barks.

"What's the big deal? You get sloppy in bars. You hit on chicks all the time. Why can't I?" Sam asks.

Dean chuckles and scratches at his chin. "First of all, I haven't hit on any chick lately, and secondly, it's kind of slim pickings around here."

I slap at his arm. "Don't be rude." I hiss urgently.

"What's going on with you?" Dean ignored me.

Sam shook his head for a moment before sighing. "I tried, Dean."

"To do what?" He asks.

"To save you."

Dean sighs and pulls the chair out to take a seat. I pull out the other and perch on the stool. "Can I get two whiskeys? Double, neat." Dean orders our drinks, and I quickly signal the bartender to bring me a soda instead. She nods and trots off.

"I'm serious, Dean."

"No, you're drunk." Dean quickly says.

"I mean, where you're going...." Sam trails off. "What you're gonna become.... I can't stop it. I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is, no one can save you."

"What I've been telling you--"

"No, that's not what I mean." Sam stops him. "I mean, no one can save you because you don't want to be saved. I mean, how can you care so little about yourself? What's wrong with you?"

My cell chirps in my pocket and I quickly step away to answer it. "Hello?" I hum softly.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Reba Snyderson?" A woman chirps into the phone.

"Yes, it is."

"I'm calling on behalf of Robert Snyderson, he's in a comatose state, and he's listed you as his emergency contact." The woman hums.

"What?!" I yelp. "Where?!"

"Baby, what's wrong?" I hear Dean ask urgently.

I snap the phone shut after getting the address. "Bobby's in trouble--" I snap. "Get the lead out-- now!"

Sam and Dean share a look before running out after me.

~*****~

I feel as if my face is blotchy as I sit at Bobby's bedside, combing my fingers over his hair. "So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asks.

"We've tested everything we can think to test." The doctor says. "He seems perfectly healthy."

"He's comatose," I hiss. "How is that healthy?"

"Mrs. Snyderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"

I shake my head. "No, he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch a cold." I express.

"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" Sam asks.