Four Weddings and a Funeral
Bobby peeked out from under the table. Nope, not safe. Sophie was still stalking around, and he knew she was looking for him.
He couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed. She'd objected to being in Cousin Celia's wedding as much as he had. When Mama and Aunt Vi told her to try on the flower girl dress, she'd run away and Uncle Brian had to climb the tree after her.
But now that it was here, she was as girly as anyone. Saying Bobby had to dance with her! He didn't want to be the stupid ring bearer and he wasn't going to dance with any stupid flower girl, even if Sophie usually was his favorite cousin.
Sophie had her back to him, so Bobby risked leaving the table and ran out the back door--and into someone.
"Watch it, squirt."
It was just Cousin George, sneaking a cigarette. Bobby sighed in relief.
"What are you doing out here?" George asked, blowing smoke.
Bobby shook his head. "Sophie wants me to dance with her," he said disgustedly.
"Sorry to hear that."
"I don't know what happened! She hated the idea of dressing up and told me I looked silly in this bowtie, and now she's all...girly."
George shrugged. "What can I tell you? Every girl has the potential to become a bouquet-carrying beast." He finished his cigarette. "You know you're going to have to dance with her."
Bobby sighed. Weddings.
Bobby stared at the wedding certificate for a long moment. Arithmetic wasn't his strongest suit, but this was simple enough. If his birthday was in August and his parents had been married in March...
Huh. Guess Cousin Celia's wedding wasn't the first one he'd been to after all.
Bobby actually didn't remember much about his own wedding. It was all flashes. She was walking towards him and smiling. The preacher told him to kiss his bride. They danced. He danced with Cousin Sophie. There was music and family and food. There was joy.
Then, suddenly, everyone was gone and they were alone.
She smiled. "Well, Mr. Singer," she said, holding out a hand.
"Well, Mrs. Singer," he answered, taking it and kissing it.
"Let's go home."
If the good people of Las Vegas had bothered to build their churches properly, consecrating the ground and so on, the demon wouldn't have been able to collect so many souls.
But drunk people would stumble into the chapel and sign their names to any book placed in front of them.
At least the minister seemed to be all right, though understandably dazed.
"What's going on?" he asked, but before Bobby could reply, a couple came in.
"Are you sure you want to do it like this?" the man asked.
"Yes! Let's just do it! My mother will kill me, but I don't care," the woman declared.
He shrugged. "All right."
The preacher seemed to jump for the chance to get back to his routine. "Who gives this woman?" he asked.
She looked around and pointed to Bobby. "He does."
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am--"
"Mary, I don't even know you."
She smiled at him. "Humor me? It's my wedding day."
Bobby thought about it, shrugged. Not that it was any of his business, but she did have an engagement ring on, so this wasn't entirely spur of the moment. And it would take longer to try and talk her out of it than to just go along with it.
He signed the license (after checking it, just to be sure) as a witness. "Congratulations," he said, shaking the man's hand.
Mary kissed his cheek. "We'll invite you to the reception," she promised.
"You do that," he told her.
Bobby hadn't been close to Steve Wandel, but he went to the funeral. He said all the right things about respect and revenge and everyone bought it.
But, really, he just needed to know what the other hunters suspected. He needed to know if they thought Sam and Dean were connected in any way.
It seemed they'd gotten away with it. Everyone knew his connection with the Winchesters, but no one avoided him or broke off conversation when they saw him.
At least that was something. He'd been to one Winchester funeral already. He wasn't going to attend any more.
Your comments are, as always, appreciated.