Robin Singer

Season 8 Episode 21: The Great Escapist

*Welcome to my 100th Post! Let me start by saying if you read this far, thank you so much. Writing this story was sort of an outlet for me, my hobby that would give me some me time, clarity. The Character of Robin Singer was two years in the making when I finally started to give her stories of her own. There have been several times I have written things for this character that I am absolutely nowhere near posting. I legit have stuff into season 15 in my notes. There was an original chapter I wrote, start to finish that I have had saved in my notes since before I started publishing, wondering where it would fit in. I finally found it's place in the episode, Clip show, which happens to be the next episode I wrote. Since this is a milestone (my biggest one to date) I figure it worked out perfectly. So another great big thank you for coming with me through all 100 posts, let's keep going and see if we hit 200*

Robin was sitting in the library of the bunker with Sam, quietly searching for cases on her laptop. Sam sat at the other end of the table, studying the notes that he'd gotten from Kevin. He attempted to not bring attention to himself, but he was failing. He was draped in a blanket and his skin had a tinge of grey to it. His cheeks were sunken in, and the bags under his eyes could have been used to shop at a bulk retailer. Her eyes would be drawn to his attention regularly, with a shiver a sniffle or a hacking cough that no doubt left his hand bloodied. She was used to Dean worrying too quickly about his little brother, but it wasn't the case this time. She was getting concerned herself.

"What, Robin" he finally snapped at her? Apparently, her subtle glances weren't so subtle.

She'd known these two for over twenty years, and one thing the Winchesters did not receive well was pity. "I didn't say anything" She shook her head gently. She maintained her gaze to her screen, feigning innocence.

"I can feel you looking at me" He snapped again slapping his hand on the hard wood table.

"Can't imagine why," Her tone was dripping with sarcasm through her teeth.

"You eyeing me every thirty seconds, isn't helping" he barked before he started hacking again.

"Alright" Dean carried in a tray of food he was going to attempt to force on Sam. "Here we go. John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew" He placed the tray on the table and folded his arms in pride, attempting to hide his anxiety. "There you go. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like Dad used to make." Still sour from his interaction with Robin, Sam pushed the tray away with a scowl. Dean took notice and he attempted to lighten the mood, "Yeah, we do the whole airplane thing with the spoon?" Not gaining the desired effect, Dean stopped beating around the bush. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I- I don't..." Sam stammered.

"Days, Sam" Dean barked. "It's been three days." Dean pulled out an oral thermometer and turned it on with a beep.

"When'd you get that" Sam scoffed?

"When you started throwing off heat waves" Dean told him pursuing his brother's mouth with the meter.

Sam got to his feet and threw his blanket aside in frustration. "Enough, please. Both of you."

"Tell us what we're supposed to do here, Sam" Robin argued. She closed her laptop and fell back into her seat in a huff. "You're looking like an extra on the Walking Dead. You're shaking so much you're basically vibrating and you're coughing up blood. This is not good."

"Well, I'm not good. And I'm not going to be good until we can start moving again" Sam snapped. "Until I can start the third trial."

"Trial" Dean huffed in his quiet growl? "I wouldn't let you start a moped. We're on the rails with this thing, okay, and the only way out of it is through it, believe me, I know. And you know how bad I wanna slam the door on all those sons of bitches. But you gotta let me take care of you, man. You gotta let me help you get your strength back."