Somebody Ought To
Characters: Bobby Singer
Word Count: 1462
Warnings: Curse words and the liberal use of the word Idjit(s)
Spoilers: Episode 6.16 "And Then There Were None"
Disclaimer: I own nothing so don't sue me! Just borrowing Eric's boys and plan to return them mostly unharmed.
Summary: Days after returning home, Bobby's thoughts keep returning to his experience in the cannery.
Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fan fiction-only my second fiction ever. Reviews and critiques are welcome and appreciated. Unbeta'ed all mistakes are my own. Title is a Bobby quote from episode 6.16
Returning to his desk with his liquid lunch, which consisted of a fresh bottle of whiskey and a glass, Bobby selected another dusty, rare, crumbling book trying to find any information on this mother of all pains in the ass-Eve. A few minutes of reading and savoring the flavor of the whiskey, he found his attention wandering and the words were becoming a blur on the page. After having the boys here the last few days, it was almost too quiet in the house.
Sam and Dean left two days ago on a hunt where the victims were beaten to a pulp and left messy. This would not normally spark attention of any hunter, except there were five deaths close to a church in a small, quiet, middle of nowhere town. The foot prints on the scene indicated that the killer had to be seven foot tall. How does everyone miss a seven foot anything? Dean was so antsy in the days following Rufus's burial; he jumped on the first case Sam mentioned, even though it didn't seem to be anything more than another freaking tall psycho killing folks to get his jollies off. Bobby noticed Sam searching for a new case that evening after Rufus was planted. It wasn't just Dean that was ready to hit the road.
Being possessed by that slimy piece of crap worm thing gave him a glimpse of what Sam is going through. The experience of having your body commit acts against your will and using you for its agenda was damned weird. While possessed by a demon, an experience that he has no desire to go through again, you are aware of what the hell spawn are doing even if you can't do much about it. The worm totally took over to the point of blocking out the memory of the one possessed. After Dean and Sam revived him and got them checked into a motel, hearing that he stabbed Rufus was a very hard pill to swallow and not remembering his action didn't make it any easier to deal with.
Each one of them killed that evening, three hunters dead by their hands. Of the three, Sam seemed to be handling it better than Dean, but Sam just didn't know his grandfather well enough to form any kind of attachment. Samuel Campbell seemed like a capable hunter but he treated those boys like shit. Turning on blood to stay in good with Crowley was beyond low in his book. Then the arrogant son of a bitch had the gall to call him out about his feelings for Dean and Sam. Those two idjits need someone to rely and a place to call home besides the Impala. Just thinking about Campbell and his appalling actions towards those boys-his boys-was making his skin crawl.
His boys…right then and there Bobby knows what he has to do. Giving up researching for the time being, Bobby picks up the phone and dials someone he has not thought about in years. After making an appointment, he hangs up feeling better than he has since that night in the cannery.
The next morning he heads out early to run some errands before his 8:00 am appointment with Johnson. Last time he was in this office was before Karen's death. She decided that we needed to get our "affairs in order" just in case. She was always practical and organized like that. He felt an ache in his chest just returning to his lawyer's office but it was something that had to be done before his next
'follow the light' near death experience. He has twirled the dance floor with reapers many times- once was dead then revived by Castiel. But he has no illusions about being brought back again if another reaper should come for him. After so many close calls, he regrets not doing this long ago.
After sitting in a tiny, cheerful waiting room for nearly 20 minutes, Bobby is growing more and more impatient. Like he doesn't have nothing better to do than wait for some idjit to show up and take care of business; grumbling and throwing 'screw this' looks at the perky little assistant seems to have finally worked. Right after his last eat shit death glare, she escorted him back to Johnson's office.
Holding out his hand Johnson greets Bobby "Mister Singer, I have to say it's been a long time. What brings you here today?"
"I want to change my will"
Do they teach that condescending attitude to all law students? Just looking at Johnson I could imagine him looking in the mirror and primping himself for the day. Is it a class that is offered, such as Pompous Ass 101? I will have to ask Sam that question next time they are by the house. Bobby's wandering thoughts caused him to miss part of what Johnson was blathering on about. "…there will be a small fee to file the paperwork, but changing your will should be no problem at all Mr. Singer"
"Uh huh, well, let's get to it. I don't have all day" Bobby growls
"I see, let me pull your file up…last time you went with a traditional will on paper. Currently there are DVD's video wills available as well as a combination of both. A disc for your loved ones and a way to send a personal message and a paper will for finalizing the details. Which one would you prefer Mr. Singer?"
"Just like before Johnson. Paper will to be read upon my death. I want everything to go to Dean and Sam Winchester."
Johnson continues his leering smile, "Done, Mr. Singer. Is there a personal message you would like to include in the reading of the will?"
"No. Just that those idjits gets it all after any outstanding debts is paid off" Bobby replies. He doesn't have any debts but Karen thought it was a good idea and he was going to honor her by not changing the wording of the will. He had left everything to her anyway…He didn't imagine on that day he would outlive her. Shaking off the memories, he stands up to leave and feels his cell vibrate in his pocket, ignoring it for the moment. Sliding a piece of paper to the lawyer Bobby adds "This is their contact information. If the number changes I will update you on it. That number is to remain confidential and not to be used until my death…do you understand Mr. Johnson?"
"Yes, of course Mr. Singer. That is standard operating procedure here. Your privacy is of the utmost importance…"
Bobby cuts off his speech "Well, I have had all the ass kissing I can tolerate for one day Mr. Johnson. Call me on my contact number on the top of that sheet when this is ready to sign."
Feeling like he needed a shower after his meeting with Johnson, Bobby settles for breakfast instead and checks his phone. One missed call from Sam. While waiting for the waitress to refill his coffee, he dials Sam and leaves a message on voicemail. Johnson's comment about leaving a personal message for the boys was not a bad idea but doing it himself and securing the DVD in the panic room seemed like a much better idea than allowing something so personal to be recorded and placed into the slimy lawyer's care.
Just as the breakfast special is place beside his steaming cup of coffee his cell rings.
"Good morning Sam. Whatcha need?"
"Good morning Bobby, you seem like you're in a good mood. I wanted to run some things by you and maybe we could come up with some theories about what is killing these people" Sam said over the typing of his laptop. "I have been researching all evening and I am coming up with dead ends…Hey I am putting you on speakerphone…"
Looking at his breakfast getting cold, Bobby listens to Sam and Dean with a faint smile. Those knuckleheads are worth the occasional missed meal.
All reviews are welcomed.