Riding the Fence (A Supernatural FanFic)

Part Eleven

By the time Bobby and Clive had made their way back to the store to collect Bobby’s pickup and then back to Singer Salvage, it was deep into the night. Deputy Mills had held the three men up for a long while, highly skeptical of Doug Wilson’s assertion that a loose wire on a display had caused the fire. She’d also had deep reservations about his explanation that the fire must have set off one of the many display weapons, thereby causing the reported gunfire, and had argued the point quite strenuously. Mr. Wilson had fought tooth and nail to keep her from going inside and seeing the full extent of the destruction and they had gone around and around on Clive and Bobby’s supposed involvement and subsequent criminal actions, before Doug had firmly put his foot down, going so far as to bump his small round belly into Deputy Mills when she tried to intimidate him.

“These two men saved my life,” he stated flatly, “and the museum will not be making any complaint against them.” Finally the Deputy had no further recourse than to release them all, but she gave them a stern warning that she would most certainly be looking into the matter further, saying, “Momma didn’t raise no fool boys, I know somethin’ hokey’s goin’ on here!”

Bobby and Clive returned to find the house quiet and dark. As they strode as one toward the door, a low sinking feeling settled over Bobby; a feeling of foreboding about what they’d find when they went inside.

“Maybe I should go in alone,” he suggested, turning to block Clive’s path, “suss out the situation.”

His friend pulled up short, just shy of running into him, and cocked his head to the side.

“Who are you trying to protect?” Clive asked, with a humorless laugh.

“Honestly?” Bobby asked. “You. But, no, you’re right. Let’s get this over with.” And with that they continued up the steps and into the darkened house, Bobby leading the way.

He rounded the corner into the library and the room was lit with one single side table lamp, glowing gold and warm over the sleeping forms. Mira lay stretched over the length of the sofa, Dean’s over shirt draped over her shoulders, her bare feet tucked into the cushions where the back of the sofa met the seat. Dean on the other hand, sat sleeping on the floor; his legs crossed at the ankles, boots still on even though the laces had been undone. His arms were crossed, hands tucked in close to his body and his head had fallen back, resting against Mira’s lower legs, mouth slightly ajar and snoring lightly.

They had waited up for Bobby and Clive to return, talking quietly about Moms long ago lost, curled up on the couch together, taking solace in each other’s company and common ground. Dean had laughed heartily when, after he’d leaned down to kiss her softly, Mira had promised she wouldn’t hold it against him later. Instead, she’d leaned into him, slanting her lips across his in a sleepy, languid kiss; one he was quiet happy to chase until she’d sighed and just like that was asleep, completely sapped of energy.

“Am I boring you?” he had chuckled. His voice had rumbled in his chest, waking her slightly and she’d mumbled an apology, but Dean just pulled himself out from beneath her and laid her out on the sofa, draping his shirt over her to keep her warm in the cool house. Then he’d sat down at her feet and slid off the sofa and onto the floor, where he remained until Bobby woke him.

“Hey, bud.”

Bobby knelt down beside the sleeping Winchester and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and shut a few times before finally focusing on Bobby’s face and then he smiled sleepily.

“Go on up to bed, son.”

Bobby helped the boy to his feet, directed him towards the stairway and smiled when Dean groggily stumbled through the room, rubbing the back of his hand over his chilled nose.