Chapter 19 : Idgits Anonymous

by

     For the first time in a long time, I had no appetite. I stared down at the half-eaten burger and ketchup smothered fries and almost gagged. It was never like me to leave food half uneaten, but then again, it also wasn't like me to accept death in such a natural way.

    Nothing had been right since John drugs me to the hospital for testing. I don't even know why he cared as much. But the look on his face when I told him something was wrong was as close to fatherly as I could remember.

     Though, I wasn't even sure if he really cared. I didn't want to think, but looking back, he was probably only there to make sure I was going to live long enough to help him finish this, and despite the look on his face when the doctor called me a few days later, I wasn't surprised when he took off.

     He knew it was over at that moment because if I didn't start the recommended treatment immediately, it didn't look like I was going to be.

     I never thought this was how I was going to go out. I always thought it would be some epic battle with a vampire or maybe even facing off with a shape-shifting twin. But cancer? Never in a million years had I even thought that was an option.

     I couldn't give up, though. I couldn't take that chance of it ending the way it wasn't supposed to. So here I was. Laying in an old made-up bed in a house I hadn't stepped foot in for far too long.

     "You know you don't have to do this," I smiled at the only man I considered family as he set the tray down over my lap.

     He took the ball cap from his head and forced a small smile across his worn face. The tiredness in his eyes showed the countless nights he spent trying to find another way to fix this.

     "I found a lady in Meshopen that-"

     I shook my head at him. I was done with all of the mystics. It had only been three weeks, but I had enough to last me a lifetime.

     "Thank you, Bobby, but you know I can't do that anymore."

     Bobby sighed. He'd been on my case for days, begging and pleading for me to see the specialist one of the doctors had recommended. Unlike John, Bobby Singer truly cared about me, and for years I did what I could to make sure that it wasn't going to be the death of him.

     Even being here now was dangerous. That much is why I had always preferred to be on my own. The fewer people in my life, the fewer people I lose. But, I needed someplace steady while I got my shit in order, and I knew if anybody was smart enough to help me, it would be Bobby, and if the yellow-eyed had wanted him, he had years to do, and Bobby was always ready for. But he never came for him, and I wasn't sure he would. 

     Bobby managed to whip up a few concoctions that kept the headaches and the fatigue at bay, but honestly, it was like my body started shutting down the moment I found out. I had flushed every single medication they gave as it seemed to make the symptoms worse, and despite the doctors, there was no I was going to spend what little time I had left in a hospital bed instead of tracking the bastard down.

     "I could use your help today," Bobby said. "I don't know what kind of bullshit is going on in this world, but the phones have been ringing off the hook."

     I nodded with a smile as I took a bite of my cold toast. "Have you heard from John?"

     Bobby's eyes dropped to the tray of food in front of me. It was no secret that he had a love-hate relationship with that man. He never said it in so many words, but it didn't take long for me to figure it out. I mean, the look alone that Bobby gave him when he dropped me was enough to explain.

     He nodded towards the door and told me to come down when I was ready, and I took a deep breath, taking in the room around me as he left. It was probably the last place anybody that was dying wanted to be. It was dusty and dirty, with mice traps in every corner, but it was the closest place to home I ever had.

     He was well into his workday when I finally made my way downstairs. Switching between the set of phones connected to the wall by his desk and the pile of mobiles in front of him. I couldn't help but smile, remembering all the times that he had picked one of those phones up to help me with a case.

     He currently held a helpline cell up to his ear and nodded absent-mindedly as he flipped through an old leather-bound book. Apparently, somebody was having issues killing a crocotta, and Bobby Singer was the master of all methods. If he didn't know it himself, his extensive library that scattered the wooden tables around the room held the answers.

     He pointed at one of the cells on the table as it began to ring. I shrugged, not knowing if I was ready to start the day like this, but picked it up anyway.

     "Idgits anonymous how can I help you?" I yawned into the phone as I sat back in the torn chair across from his desk.

     Bobby furrowed his brow at me, and the stern look set me upright as I repeated myself to the quiet hunter on the other line. "Bobby's busy. This is Andrea. What can I help you kill today?"

     "Andi?"

     A small smile spread across my face as his familiar voice floated into my ear. I never thought I'd hear from Dean Winchester ever again in my life, but the worrisome tone in his voice almost made me second-guess that questionable yearning.

     "What do you need help with now, Winchester?" I kept my reply short and snappy, even though I could help but smile.

     It had taken longer than I cared to admit to getting that kiss out of my head, and the last thing I wanted to do was to spend the next few days dwelling on the warmth of his soft lips against mine.

     "I need help finding my brother."

     My smile dropped, and I stood up from the chair. Bobby noticed my sudden attitude change and quickly told whoever he was speaking with would call them back before rushing to my side.

     "What do you mean you need help finding your brother?" I asked him, putting the phone on speaker so Bobby could hear.

     "He's was taken."