Author's note: I only just discovered how awesome Supernatural is, and I haven't seen all the seasons yet, but I'll do my best to keep everyone from being too OOC. I can't really make any promises though, since my new meds make me fuzzy in the head. Let me know if it's any good.
I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters in it, but I do own my OC.
Chapter1: Long Time Coming
Early July, 2007
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
"Balls!" Bobby cursed, throwing the partially dismantled pistol back on his desk. He let a long sigh of exasperation as he poured himself some more whisky.
He'd been working on the damned thing off and on ever since Dean had used the last bullet on old Yellow Eyes at the demon gate nearly two months ago, and he still couldn't figure out the secret behind the gun's magic properties. At first it had looked like it was just an ordinary pistol, but now he wasn't so sure. There had to be some kind of trick to it, something he was missing…
Bobby was jolted out of his thoughts when one of his phones started ringing. Someone was calling him on his direct hotline.
"Who the hell?" Bobby wondered out loud as he checked the caller ID. No one should have this number except for—His eyes widened in surprise when he saw who it was, and he answered it immediately.
"Hey, Bobby! Guess who~!" A familiar voice sang cheerfully into the phone.
"Chris? Is that really you?" Bobby asked, actually smiling, after receiving such a pleasant surprise for once. "Damn, you sound down right chipper. What, did they readjust your meds again?"
"Nope. I've got even better news—My shrink says it's in remission! It's been about two months now, and she says I officially don't have to pop pills at all anymore, and I only have to see her once or twice a year now!" Chris explained excitedly.
"Well, shit, that's fantastic!" Bobby laughed, but then something unsettling occurred to him. "Wait a minute, did you say two months?"
"Yeah, why? No, wait—don't tell me—some supernatural shit hit the fan, didn't it?" Chris asked, sighing. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. Well, he can't say he blamed her. For every good piece of news they got, there was usually at least twice as much bad news. That's just how it was for their little dysfunctional family of four.
"Lucky guess. I take it Dean and Sam didn't call to tell you about how they finally killed that damned yellow-eyed demon, then?" He asked, shaking his head. He didn't know what Dean's problem was. I mean, how hard was it to pick up a damn phone and call? Sam was probably preoccupied with trying to find a way to save his brother's sorry soul-trading ass, but still.
"Shut the front door! It's about time that bastard got what was coming to him! I take it the Colt worked, then? You mentioned you were looking for it the last time we talked, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but without the bullets, it's about as useful as an ashtray during a hurricane. I'm trying to see if I can re-engineer it so it can take more bullets, but now I've just got a big, stinkin' pile of—"
"Whoa, watch your blood pressure there, Bobby! That's the other thing I called about. I wanted to ask if I could come up and visit you for a while, and you know, maybe set off some homemade fireworks for the fourth—"
"—No way. The last thing I need is for your 'fireworks' to get the local sheriff on my ass for setting off weaponized explosives. Are you sure they really cured your crazy?"
"Hey, I never said anything about the crazy being gone, just the depression. Anyway, I was planning on keeping this a surprise, but the real reason I wanted to come visit— other than to blow up your yard and celebrate my somewhat questionable return to sanity—was because I happened to do an exorcism for my neighbor, who's an avid collector of antique guns—"
"Wait, what're you doin' performing an exorcism? Why didn't you just call Sam and Dean?"
"Because, for some reason, Dean stopped answering my calls years ago, and I still don't know Sam's new number yet. Anyway, it's not like it's a big deal. I've had to do harder things before, back when I was still hunting as a member of 'Team Winchester'. Besides, the important thing here isn't the exorcism, it's what he gave me as thanks for saving him—The actual, bonafide, true-blue blue prints to The Colt!"
"… You've got to be shittin' me." Bobby said, dumbstruck. Was she seriously telling him that the answer to all their problems had been tucked away, safe and sound, next door to her the whole frickin' time. Balls!
"I'm serious Bobby! I don't want to risk it get lost in the mail, so I thought I should deliver it to you personally... If that's all right?"
"Hell, of course it's alright! We should be throwin' you a damned parade! Maybe now we can do something about those things that got out of the gate, not to mention Dean's…" Bobby slowed his roll when he realized he had probably revealed way more than he should have, since he and John had been trying to keep her out of hunting after she had to quit when her… 'condition' reared its ugly head.
"Bobby… what aren't you telling me?" Chris asked, suspiciously, entering her interrogation mode. Bobby gulped nervously.
"Uh… You're breaking up—gotta go!" Bobby said quickly, crumpling a piece of paper next to the mouthpiece as he abruptly ended the call. "Balls..." Bobby sighed, running a hand through his greying hair, as he slumped back in his chair. He knew there was no way he was going to get out of explaining that whole fiasco with the Devil's Gate and Dean's dumbass deal with the crossroads demon now.
Christine Lamb, the Winchester brothers' unofficially adopted little sister... was going to be pissed.
