He'd stumbled to a stop when he saw the familiar face right smack in the middle of the Compound and for a second, Sam genuinely and honestly thought that maybe he was hallucinating. It would kind of be the best hallucination he'd had though. He lit up with a wary grin. "Bobby?"
This had to have been the weirdest thing Bobby'd ever experienced, and he'd seen some pretty damn strange things in his two and a half or so decades as a hunter. The Compound seemed pretty nice, though - least it meant they had access to all the necessities.
Bobby wasn't about to settle into whatever the hell this was without gettin' a good feel for the place, so he was roaming the Compound, seein' what he could see, when he turned at the sound of the familiar voice calling his name. "Sam?" he said, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. His first reaction was to look for signs of possession, but according to Ellen that kinda thing didn't happen here, so after a moment he relaxed, heading over to Sam and outstretching a hand. 'Sides, he and Dean had the protection he'd given them, right? "It's good to see ya, Sam."
"Don't take offense, but it's sort of weird to see you," Sam admitted with something of an uncomfortable laugh, arms crossed over his long, long torso as he nodded, swallowing hard. "When did...so, you just turned up just now, or...?"
Weird? Bobby frowned a little at that. He'd just been with Sam, just before he showed up. "Just today, yeah," he confirmed. "One second, I was tryin' to hand you the Colt, and the next - bam. I'm in the middle of the goddamn jungle." He threw his hands up in a 'what do you do?' gesture.
It was cold and it had only just stopped snowing (again). Ellen was hoping for a nice, steaming mug of hot chocolate by the fire and maybe some quality time with a good book. What she got was Bobby fucking Singer.
"Holy shit." She stopped short in the middle of the path and slid a bit on the snow, her hands flying untucked from the pockets of her coat and to catch herself. She huffed out a frozen breath, her eyes wide. Bobby. Bobby Singer. Her brain was still catching up. Gruff voice. Trucker hat. Gun in hand. She blinked.
"Ellen?" Bobby said incredulously, still slightly out of breath. His arm had shot out automatically to steady her as she slid, and he looked at her hard for a moment, checking for signs of possession.
A beat, and he pulled the small silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket. It didn't seem like she was anything but just Ellen, but better to be safe than sorry. "You know the drill," he said, holding it out to her.
Ellen reached up and grabbed his arm, gripping his elbow to steady herself. Bobby. She caught her breath, staring up at him.
She blinked at him and the flask. "Bobby, is this really necessary?" She was still holding his other arm, in the middle of the path, in the snow. It was... surreal.
Bobby had a flash of deja vu as he gave her a look that clearly said do you even need to ask me that? If it was really Ellen, she'd be able to read the look clear as day long as they'd known each other.
He gestured towards her again with the flask. "I just got help fixin' the Colt from some demon says she's helping Sam. One second I'm handing the gun to Sam and the next I'm in the middle of some winter wonderland and you suddenly show up? Yeah, it's necessary."
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Bobby wasn't about to settle into whatever the hell this was without gettin' a good feel for the place, so he was roaming the Compound, seein' what he could see, when he turned at the sound of the familiar voice calling his name. "Sam?" he said, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. His first reaction was to look for signs of possession, but according to Ellen that kinda thing didn't happen here, so after a moment he relaxed, heading over to Sam and outstretching a hand. 'Sides, he and Dean had the protection he'd given them, right? "It's good to see ya, Sam."
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"Holy shit." She stopped short in the middle of the path and slid a bit on the snow, her hands flying untucked from the pockets of her coat and to catch herself. She huffed out a frozen breath, her eyes wide. Bobby. Bobby Singer. Her brain was still catching up. Gruff voice. Trucker hat. Gun in hand. She blinked.
"Bobby?"
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A beat, and he pulled the small silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket. It didn't seem like she was anything but just Ellen, but better to be safe than sorry. "You know the drill," he said, holding it out to her.
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She blinked at him and the flask. "Bobby, is this really necessary?" She was still holding his other arm, in the middle of the path, in the snow. It was... surreal.
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He gestured towards her again with the flask. "I just got help fixin' the Colt from some demon says she's helping Sam. One second I'm handing the gun to Sam and the next I'm in the middle of some winter wonderland and you suddenly show up? Yeah, it's necessary."
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