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."
"Oh, hell." She grabbed the flask and slugged back the water. She handed it back to him with a cocked eyebrow, and a responding look that said fine, y'stubborn ass.
She paused, staring at him. "Wait. You were working with a demon?" She knew he had his own questions, but him working with a demon? Huh.
He slipped the flask back in his pocket and nodded. "Yeah, I know, I'm wonderin' myself if I've lost my goddamn mind," he said flatly, and held up the gun. "But she fixed the Colt, made it so it could kill demons again. And apparently she's been helping Sam - showed up out of the blue not long back when we were up against the seven deadly sins."
Ellen was reeling. "The Sins?" She shook her head, eyes wide with shock. "They were topside?" Her voice was shaky, upset. The Seven Deadly Sins weren't run of the mill demons. One of the first things she learned when she became a hunter, along the lines of this shit is real, was that The Sins were serious shit.
"Yeah," Bobby said, his tone clearly saying I couldn't believe that shit either. "They got out after Jake opened that damn Devil's Gate. You can imagine the havoc they tried to wreak, after bein' trapped in Hell for so long." He didn't want to think about what might have gotten out if he and Ellen hadn't managed to close the gate. It was already bad enough.
"Wait, slow down." She held up a hand, reeling again. "Someone opened a Devil's Gate?" Christ. Her mind reeled. Bobby was from after her time. Things were bad. They were... Jesus, there was a war. "Bobby, what the hell is going on back home??"
For a second, Bobby looked at Ellen like she'd suddenly grown a second head. "Did you get hit on the head recently or somethin'? 'Cause you were there, Ellen. You helped me close the damn thing!"
He looked around them, still completely in the dark as to where the hell they were. "What the hell is going on HERE, is what I wanna know!"
She blinked at him. Oh, lord. Not this crap again. "No, I wasn't, Bobby." Her voice was low and even, a rough gravel that suggested I ain't shitting you, now shut up and listen. "I've been here six months, Bobby
( ... )
Bobby shut up and listened, though his eyes got wide as saucers and he couldn't hardly believe what he was hearing. This was Ellen, though, and she wouldn't make up shit or give him some kind of line
( ... )
"God, that musta been something, to see Dean take down that yellow-eyed sonofabitch." She shook her head ruefully and grinned over at Bobby. "Hell, I guess I probably enjoyed seeing it, considering I was there."
She shook her head at his last. "You have no idea how crazy." God, hearing Bobby analyze the whole thing made it sound somehow simpler. And like they could somehow figure it out, even after so many folks here had already tried. She was ready to drag him down to the bookshelf and figure something out. It just seemed like it wouldn't be quite so hard with Bobby here. Lord.
Her brain was caught on something that made her stop, smiling crookedly. She squinted at him carefully. "John mighta climbed outta hell for his boys, but he climbed right onto our beach, too. He's here, Bobby. Alive." Her eyes were glued to him, waiting.
"What?" Bobby couldn't believe what he was hearing. "John's here? Alive?? How the hell is that possible?" He'd seen John disappear with his very eyes, move on after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had been eliminated. Hell, Ellen had seen it too...just not this Ellen, apparently.
She grinned from ear to ear, glad to be the one to tell him. "People show up here after their dead, after they've been shot, after they're about to die..." She trailed off and shrugged. "John's here from about that time-- he climbed outta hell, and onto the beach." She remembered that day vividly, how convinced she had been that her eyes were playin' tricks, and how glad she was when they weren't.
She smiled fondly at Bobby, her eyes twinkling. "This place ain't all bad, Bobby." Her grin spread. "Just a little crazy." Sounded like their lives.
"Ain't all bad, just a little crazy," Bobby echoed, and returned Ellen's smile. "I think I can handle that."
The wind gusted, and he drew his flannel jacket a little tighter around himself. "Where the hell is this island, anyhow? Feels like goddamned Antarctica."
"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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She paused, staring at him. "Wait. You were working with a demon?" She knew he had his own questions, but him working with a demon? Huh.
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He looked around them, still completely in the dark as to where the hell they were. "What the hell is going on HERE, is what I wanna know!"
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She shook her head at his last. "You have no idea how crazy." God, hearing Bobby analyze the whole thing made it sound somehow simpler. And like they could somehow figure it out, even after so many folks here had already tried. She was ready to drag him down to the bookshelf and figure something out. It just seemed like it wouldn't be quite so hard with Bobby here. Lord.
Her brain was caught on something that made her stop, smiling crookedly. She squinted at him carefully. "John mighta climbed outta hell for his boys, but he climbed right onto our beach, too. He's here, Bobby. Alive." Her eyes were glued to him, waiting.
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She smiled fondly at Bobby, her eyes twinkling. "This place ain't all bad, Bobby." Her grin spread. "Just a little crazy." Sounded like their lives.
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The wind gusted, and he drew his flannel jacket a little tighter around himself. "Where the hell is this island, anyhow? Feels like goddamned Antarctica."
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