The Talk

You tossed the black towel in the hamper as your hair dripped on Bobby's wooden floors. You'd been here nearly a week now, most of your injuries partially healed. You heard some ruckus downstairs, assuming the boys were getting into it again. It had been going on all week. You had your suspicions that there was clearly something Dean had done that neither Sam nor Bobby approved of. Shocking. However, you also knew it was none of your business, so you simply showered and went on with your day-to-day routine, staying out of the entire ordeal. It was so easy to fall back into old habits. It had been years since you'd last stayed with Bobby, yet you remembered where everything in the ramshackle house was placed. Much like Bobby, nothing here had changed. You'd be lying if you said you weren't grateful for that. Given that pretty much everything you owned had burned down in an unfortunate fire set by a psycho demon, it was nice to settle into something that was comfortable.

In the week that you'd been there, you managed to buy a whole new wardrobe, i.e. five flannels, a multitude of racer back tank tops, four good pairs of jeans, and a good set of boots. Undergarments were also a given. Bobby had an arsenal stocked with every goodie you could imagine, and your gun was lucky enough to have avoided the fire. There was only one thing left on your list to replace: your hustling dress. Normally, you wouldn't bat an eye at buying the shortest, blackest thing you could find, but doing so while under Bobby's roof just felt wrong. Not to mention the last thing you wanted was for Dean to get his hands on something like that. The innuendos would never end. Ah well, you weren't exactly doing much hunting at the moment anyway. Not that you were on lockdown or anything, but things with Bobby were…tense, and leaving for a hunt was the last thing that would help the situation. The worst part was, you couldn't really blame him either. You'd fallen off his radar for three years and your reuniting wasn't under the best of circumstances. So the plan was just to lay low until this whole awkward thing blew over.

You made your way down the stairs to where the shouting was happening (in the study), making eye contact with the only man facing your direction: Sam. He quickly cleared his throat and motioned his eyes towards you as two more gazes made their way to the only woman in the house walking down the stairs. The yelling immediately stopped, followed by an uncomfortable silence. "Please, don't stop your arguing on account of me. I'm just grabbing a beer." Bobby smacked the back of Dean's head as he followed you to the kitchen, both boys in tow. Dean was brave enough to speak up. "No need, we were done anyway. Sam c'mon we're heading out. I'm starving and I swear if I have to eat one more of Bobby's meals I'm gonna blow my friggin' brains out." That earned a look from Bobby. A look you had been on the receiving end of way too many times as an angsty teen.

"You wanna come Y/N?" Sam, always the polite one. However, you took one look at Bobby and you knew your answer. That talk that you had successfully put off, yea that was gonna happen the second the Winchesters left. "Maybe next time guys." Dean grabbed the back collar of Sam's jacket and practically shoved him through the door. "Great. We'll see you later." And with that, the door was slammed and the brothers were gone.

You awkwardly took a swig from your beverage and set it on the counter, looking anywhere but at Bobby. "I don't know what you been acting so weird about, you don't owe me a damn thing." You finally met his gaze and sighed. "Bobby, listen I…"

"I only took you in and raised you like one a' my own, but hey, I ain't your blood, so what the hell right? (Long, awkward silence) I thought you were dead! Not even a postcard Y/N? I thought I deserved at least that! After all I done for you…"

"Bobby stop." He closed his mouth and stood patiently, awaiting your explanation. "Look, I get it. What I did was awful, and I have no excuses. I was young, hell, I still am, but I just needed a little time off. It's just, you were so excited at the prospect of me having an apple pie life. And I tried Bobby, I really did, but that just wasn't in me. Once I gave in, I just couldn't face you. I couldn't disappoint you like that. (Bobby's anger began to fade. He looked down and just listened) so I ran. Yea, I know it was the coward's way out but I did it. And you know what? I'm glad I did. Out there in California, I was awesome. I know it didn't exactly show recently, but it opened so many doors for me hunting wise. So be pissed at me all you want, just don't… don't give up on me." Bobby remained silent during your speech, processing everything you had just said. It was a rarity for you to express yourself like that. Hell even you didn't know what was really eating at you until you had said it aloud. You equated feelings with weakness (a skill learned from 'The General' AKA your father). But after what you'd put Bobby through, you figured you owed him at least this. He didn't seem to be angry anymore, actually if your perception skills were correct, you saw a bit of remorse in that surly face of his. He finally let out a sigh and looked up at you. "If I'd given up on you, I wouldn't be yellin' atcha ya idjit. Yea I'm disappointed you didn't stay out, but Y/N/N, if hunting is what you wanna do, I ain't stoppin' ya. But you better be damn well sure you know what you're doin' out there. It won't be some demon you gotta worry about if things go south. So just be careful, ya hear?" You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you had been holding. Taking the step to close the distance between the two of you, you wrapped your arms around Bobby's neck. He ran his hand up and down your back. "I don't need three idjits out there to worry about. You keep that level head a' yours. Or else." You laughed and squeezed tighter. Bobby friggin' Singer, man.