Fandom: SPN
Character: Bobby Singer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Spoilers for 4x21, "When the Levee Breaks"
Author's Notes: Thanks to ithildyn and Steven, my betas. My first SPN fic, and feedback would be most appreciated.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

The echo of Sam’s scream hangs in the sudden silence. I lean forward and splash another two fingers of bourbon into Dean’s glass. He doesn’t react, doesn’t look up at me. I warn the boy not to let my good liquor go to waste. He gulps it down. With a little luck, we’ll have time to catch our breath before Sam starts up again.

Everything’s got a cycle. Natural, supernatural – don’t matter.

Werewolves feel the pull of the full moon. Spirits fade at sunrise. Curses crest with the solstice.

It takes nine months to create a human life, but just three seconds to end one, last time I had occasion to try. Twenty-one years for a babe in arms to grow to a man out for vengeance.

Twenty-one days to form a habit. Four days to break one, if demon blood’s anything like heroin.

Who knows if we’ve got that kind of time?

The Christians thought our time was up at the millennium. The Mayans called it for 2012. Maybe we’ve just split the difference. World’s full of signs and portents; demons and angels showing up in my kitchen like Jehovah’s Witnesses, only harder to chase off with a shotgun.

Could be something’s slouching towards Bethlehem to be born. Bethlehem – not Lawrence, Kansas, no matter what that idiot Gordon had to say.

Sam starts screaming, wordless, hopeless, like he’s being ripped apart. It’s a little slice of hell. Dean drops his glass, stares down at it shattered on the floor. He’s stretched tight, can’t take much more of this. I used to be able to blackjack a man without causing too much damage. If Sam keeps it up - maybe I’ll see if I’ve still got the knack.