The Devil Went Down To Georgia | Supernatural | ✓

Chapter IV - Don't Stop Me Now

A smirk tugged the corner of Saint Dymphna's mouth upwards. "Bobby Singer, my, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

    Bobby's eyes narrowed, "The hell does that mean?"

    "Oh, Bobby," Saint Dymphna circled the old man. Leila's body was small, fragile, but Saint Dymphna radiated uncontrollable power despite the petite frame she embodied. "A broken household torn apart because of an abusive father, tsk, tsk, tsk," Saint Dymphna pouted to feign sadness, "You told yourself you'd never have kids. You never gave yourself the chance to not be like the Ed Singer, the shell of a man," She waved her hand downwards and towards Bobby, "And yet, here you are, already halfway there. Throwing back the bottle you vowed only to throw away. Two adopted sons, on the verge of their own extinction, putting themselves in the line of fire, just as you did to protect your mother. I'm your savior, Bobby. The one that made the changes, that got rid of him for good."

    "I did that myself, and damn you to hell if you think you can take that away from me," Bobby replied. He wanted to shoot her, to stab her, to attempt an exorcism even though he knew it wouldn't work. He wanted Saint Dymphna gone, because anyone who compared him to his father was not allowed to be near his house.

    "Sobering words from an old drunk," Saint Dymphna replied.

    Frozen in place, Bobby was only snapped back to the reality in front of him when a hand was placed on his shoulder. Castiel walked in front of him, eyes never leaving Saint Dymphna. "You need to get out of her."

    "Oh, but she's so fun," Saint Dymphna replied, rolling her wrist as she looked herself over. "Broken vessels are the best vessels. The ones who hate themselves more than they hate having you take them over. Conquer them. Castiel, the things you could do if you just let the world do its thing."

    Bobby hadn't had the chance to look at the Saint until that moment. And it was heartbreaking. Scars littered her exposed arms, fresh scrapes deepening the crevices cut into her flesh. Green eyes were bloodshot from an obvious lack of sleep, Bobby was surprised the poor girl, whether a Saint or not, didn't pass out from exhaustion. Deep purple bags dug into her under eyes like they were paying for real estate on her cheeks. There was no doubt in Bobby's mind that under her torn baseball shirt were ribs that protruded from her pale skin, she looked like months had passed since her last full meal. Bobby's heart shattered as he realized how young her features were. She was just a kid. Unassuming, not asking for anything as she was hurled into a world she knew nothing about.

    Dean had called Bobby a handful of times, from various rundown motel phones across the country, at all hours of the night during their time without Leila—at which time, Bobby didn't even know the name of the girl Dean was talking about. Hell, for the longest time, Bobby hadn't even been able to get out the question of who the girl was because Dean had been ranting and crying and cursing himself out for being so stupid. When he finally managed the question, Dean couldn't get the answer out, it was too hard for him. Throughout the calls, Bobby had assured Dean that what happened wasn't his fault; because usually when Bobby got those calls, it was almost never the Winchesters' fault, spare an apocalypse or two. It wasn't until that moment that Bobby realized why she had meant so much to Dean. She was just a kid. Taken from home, and Dean had sworn he'd never bring someone else into hunting, but there she was.

In the middle of his cursing over the phone, Dean would always say the same things. I'm so sorry, to which Bobby would tell him that's what he's here for. I didn't mean to, and Bobby would say no, you didn't, it was a mistake. Dean would curse louder, because he wasn't allowed to make mistakes. But everyone made mistakes, even the great Dean Winchester. It happened sometimes, because they were only human.