Abigail shut the creaking door gently behind her and gazed around the hallway before slowly making her way to the room next door. Bobby's house was just like she remembered it despite the years that had passed since she'd last been there. Comforting, littered with books and dust. It occurred to her that saving people from spirits and demons left little time for cleaning. Inside the cluttered house, Abigail looked around awaiting Bobby's return.

She cast her mind back to the last time she'd stood in that same spot of Bobby's house. She would have been 16, it had been 8 years since she'd last left. She'd spent the odd month or two at Bobby's every once in while she was growing up but always came back every few years. However, when she'd reached 16 she feared she'd become too much of a burden on the generous hunter who'd taken her in, so she decided she wanted to leave and explore the world. With a hug, a "take care of yourself out there" and a "you're always welcome here" she was on her way. Only this time she didn't return for eight long long years. That's a different story for another time though. And now here she was.

"This was sure to surprise him." She smiled to herself. Abigail had always regarded herself as short, yet at 5'3" she was pretty much average. Her deep blue eyes were deep enough to get lost in and were defined by a clean line of black eyeliner. She brushed her "just-longer-than-shoulder-length" bright red hair behind her ear with one hand, the shortest layers sticking up slightly. She was wearing her faded jeans (the ones with a small rip along the thigh from the time she'd caught them on a barbed wire lined fence) and her pentagram necklace lay hidden beneath her dark leather jacket.

An engine sounded itself outside as it pulled in to the huge junkyard outside the house. Abbie lightly stepped over to the window, hearing the approaching car, and peered through the corner of the window. It wasn't who she was expecting though, it was a black impala but from this distance she couldn't be sure of the year. No matter what the car was like (even though she had to admit it was pretty darn hot) , it wasn't Bobby, which for Abigail meant trouble. She observed silently from behind the glass as two men got out, one tall and the other dark haired but shorter. She knew most of the people Bobby knew, or at least knew of them, and she'd never seen these two in her life. She was sure of that. Cursing under her breath, she retreated further into the room.

Dean pulled the impala into Bobby's place, shutting off the music blasting from the stereo. The duo got out of the car, chatting casually about cases and spirits and burial sites while slowly making their way up the steps. It was then that Dean came to a standstill, swatting Sam's shoulder, his gaze fixed intensely elsewhere.

"Dean, what the-" Sam retaliated but was cut short as he noticed what Dean had seen.

"When did Bobby start fixing up motorbikes? And one's that don't need repairing at that." Dean explained in a hushed voice, indicating to the glistening black motorcycle parked neatly near the house before his eyes began searching the windows of the house for signs of an intruder within.

"Whoever's it is, it's not Bobby's." Sam replied. Captain Obvious Strikes Again!

It was only about 30 minutes since they'd called Bobby themselves. Bobby had left two messages on Dean's phone to say he'd found several omens, spreading rapidly throughout a cluster of towns in Iowa. He had agreed to meet them back at his place as soon as he'd run a few errands but to let themselves straight into the house. The boys had their own key to the house, and even if they didn't it wouldn't have mattered, they could have picked the lock with ease. He hadn't mentioned that he was expecting another visitor though, and people generally didn't show up at Bobby's without giving him notice first. It just didn't happen.
Trying to make little noise and drawing their guns, the brothers approached the door of the house which they found to be unlocked. This fact alone made Sam uneasy, although Dean seemed to be holding his nerve. Bobby's truck wasn't there yet and the deserted bike so near an empty house suggested someone or something was in there waiting.

The steps outside creaked as the two men made there way to the front door. But for a moment one hesitated. Stopping completely the two men conferred in what appeared to be hushed tones, the short of the two scanning the house with anger deep within his eyes. Abigail had seen them notice the bike, alerting them that the house was occupied, and as a result they each pulled out a gun, holding it steadily before them. Panic struck Abigail as she realised she was definitely in trouble. She had never seen these guys before, and the fact they were armed and letting themselves straight into Bobby's made them a growing threat.

She brushed her hand across the gun she kept tucked behind her belt, hidden from view by her black leather biker jacket. Trying to step as lightly as she could, she retreated to what she recalled to be the study. The room itself was full of books and behind a desk cluttered with yet more books was a large fireplace that looked as though it was barely ever lit. Abigail positioned herself behind an armchair, crouched as though ready to jump out at any instant. A creak sounded as the front door shut and sure enough, two sets of footsteps ensued. Instinctively, she drew up the leg of her jeans high enough to draw the small blade from her battered combat boots. The dagger was like an old friend, although she rarely drew it in combat. She re-located the 5-inch glistening blade to her belt, keeping it safely tucked at her side in case she needed to reach for it quickly. The silence was deafening and sure enough, the duo were just outside the study door.