Chapter 20 : Goodbye Bobby

by

      "I said I'm going," I snapped at the overbearing man. I didn't mean my tone to be so harsh, but he had been trying to talk me out of it for the last hour. He hovered over me like a warden and even wanted to keep me from his map drawer as if I wouldn't find another way.

     "No, you're not." He growled, grabbing hold of my keys before I could get to them. "For God's sake, Andrea, You can barely hold your gun steady. You can't drive your bike. Hell, you can barely fricken walk."

     "Thanks, Bobby," I smiled. "I almost forgot what a useless piece of shit I was."

     "I'm just saying that you're not going to do those boys any good. You're just going to get in the way and -"

     "What?" I laughed. "Make things worse? Bobby, Sam is missing. How can things get worse?"

     "I'm sorry, Andrea." He shook his head. "I truly am, but I can't let you go. There are other hunters in the area that I can send for backup."

     I stared at him for a moment, his old eyes boring into me. I knew he meant well, but I couldn't sit here and let Dean go on his own. He wouldn't have called for help if he hadn't already exhausted all of his options, and I still felt bad for ignoring all of his calls and texts over the past few weeks.

     "Then I guess it's a good thing I wasn't asking for permission."

     "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shook my head at him, my eyes rolling so far back that a piercing pain snuck into the back of my head. "You're going to get yourself killed."

     "Newsflash-"

     Bobby stepped towards me, cutting off my words with a glare. "Yeah, Andrea, I'm aware. You're dying. It's kind of hard to forget, but I'll be damned if I let you take those boys down with you."

     I stared at him, and he sighed as he dropped his hold on my keys. I squeezed them tightly, my father's skull key chain nearly drawing blood from my palm.

     "Bobby, you've always been someone I could trust, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but if you don't get out of my way, so help me, God."

     His eyes widened as he watched the rage spread through me. The words escaped too quickly, and the moment they left my sour lips, I knew I had just proven his point. I was unstable. My emotions were running in a thousand different directions, and the truth in his words stung like a wasp.

     I couldn't care, though. For weeks I had curled up in the dusty old bed, waiting for John to call with the news. I was battling time, and I wasn't winning. Hunting was the only thing that was going to keep me from wallowing in my own self-pity, and if it took a forty-five aimed at Bobby Singer's chest, then that was what was going to happen. 

     It was like we had read each other. Barrels barely touching at the tip, both our hands shaking as we pleaded our cases with one another. He wasn't letting me go, but I was going to let him make me stay either. But, if I wasn't careful, If I didn't muster up all the energy I had, I knew I would end up locked in the cell of his basement, where I would more than likely die. 

     "Put the gun down, Andrea."

      I shook my head at him. "You know I can't do that, Bobby."

     My bag pulled hard on my shoulder as I tried to steady my aim. He didn't need to know the gun wasn't loaded, but he needed to believe my sanity. My glassy brown eyes bore into him, the redness swirling in all directions. If I had been staring at myself in a mirror, I would have shot myself thinking I was a monster, but staying alive took more strength than I had these days.

     If I wasn't going to live long enough to help John take out that yellow-eyed bastard, I was at least going to help Dean find his brother. Even if I couldn't ride my bike or manage to headshot a shifter. I knew deep within me, under all the broken bits – there was still some fight left, and I wasn't giving it up that easily.

     He finally sighed and lowered his aim, tears welling in the corner of his eyes as he plucked a set of car keys from and handed them to me. I stared at him for a moment, wishing I could thank him for understanding – but I was out the door and throwing my things into the backseat of his rusted-up Chevelle within seconds.

     It took a moment to bring it to life, but the moment the engine turned over, I was out in a cloud of dust, consumed by the regret of how I handled the last encounter I would ever have with Bobby Singer. 

     Minutes turned to hours, and by the time I made my way to the sleepy little town that Dean was held up in, I could barely keep my eyes open.

     I managed to fill the passenger seat with a pile of coffee and energy cans, but I was still drained. A part of me wanted to curl up and go to sleep right there, but I was only a parking lot away from Dean's motel room, and I wanted a bed.

     My phone dinged from my pocket, but unlike the last 20 text messages Bobby had sent me, I pulled it out and let him know I had made it. Quick and straightforward, with no reply. I still couldn't believe I had talked to him the way I had or pulled a gun on him, and in my frustration, I tossed my phone against the dashed and watched as it slid down and of the open door.

     "Damnit," I snapped as my phone bounced off the pavement, but the moment I stepped out into the chilly air, an unease swept over me. Something wasn't right.

     I turned in a circle, pulling my gun from the back of my waist only to remember that it wasn't loaded.

     "Shit."

     I stepped away from the car and scanned the crowded parking lot. The impala was sitting close to a flight of stairs, but all the lights were off in the bottom rooms.

     The flicker of the light posts cast the shadows of surrounding trees everywhere, and I backed up slowly as an unknown set of footsteps approached me. I spun in circles, trying to figure out which way they were coming from but by the time I even got a small glimpse of my cloaked attacker, his hands were mouth with a wet rag.

     A startled scream muffled against my attacker's cold, dirty hands, and my attempts to butut my head backward were rendered useless as the sweet smell swirled around in my head.

     "There ya go now, girly," the husky voice whispered closely in my ear. "That's right."

     I couldn't fight. I couldn't move, and after just a few seconds, I couldn't open my eyes. I was emersed in the blackness, and for a split second, relief flooded over me as the peacefulness of what I thought was death surrounded me.