(A/N Hey guys! This chapter is a little slow, but it has it's high points! College sure has kept us busy, but Summer is on the horizon! We haven't forgotten about you guys! Thanks for reading and we hope you like it! Please enjoy and, as always, Read and Review!)
Sophia, that day, slept for two hours at a time, Bobby waking her and forcing her to drink water, hold a conversation, and use the restroom no matter how many times she cussed him from beneath the blankets.
Most of their conversations went much like this.
Two hours ago, Bobby had forced her awake given her a large drink of water. Now, he was nudging her shoulder gently, his voice gruff, like every time he woke her, with anxiety. "Soph. You gotta wake up, Darlin'."
Sophia grumbled under her breath.
"Now, don't be like that. Get on up. You need…"
Sophia rolled over giving him the sharpest, most annoyed glance that one person could hold. If looks could kill. Her voice broke with anger. "What I need, is for ya to shut yer trap, and let me sleep."
Bobby smiled in relief. She was okay if she still had that mouth on her. "Come on, girl. Get on up. I know you have to use the porcelain throne."
She gave him a dubious look, letting a long string of cuss words, sitting up. "If I p*ss myself, Bobby, so help me."
Bobby chuckled, offering her an arm. She glared for a long moment, before sighing, "Sh*t. Fine." Pulling her arm up and over his shoulder, she used him as a crutch, cursing him, the uneven floor, the demon who put her in the shape she was in, and everything else that agitated her… which was pretty much everything with the state she was in.
Sophia didn't function well without sleep. She functioned even worse when people woke her from her sleep. And when Bobby forced her to move, she wanted nothing more than to shove her foot so far up his rear end that it came out of his mouth. Didn't matter if he did do it all for her health. Health be d*mned.
And Sophia was not shy in letting him know exactly how she felt, either.
But as days passed, Sophia was allowed to sleep through the night. As such, her foul temper was soothed and she and Bobby got back to the playful banter that usually plagued their day to day lives.
Life went on, her and Bobby sharing the load of answering calls for fellow hunters and reading up on lore. Until the day Bobby went on a grocery run with strict instructions for her not to leave the house.
To be fair, when he said house, Sophia mostly assumed he meant property, seeing as his house spilled out into his yard with all the monster killing junk.
She had been on Singer's version of bed-rest, where she was allowed to move when and only when Bobby was around. But, in the last few days, Sophia had been feeling stronger. More able. Her mind was back to it's same witty shape and she barely ached.
For the last month, her questions about her beloved truck had been avoided like the plague, Bobby never quite looking her in the eye when he answered with, "Don't worry about it."
Well, she did worry about it. More than she worried about herself. So today was the day she was going to look at her truck.
Bracing herself on the arm of the dingy couch that had become her makeshift bed for the last couple of days, Sophia pulled herself to a standing position, favoring her stitched leg and leaning hard against the couch. Books littered the ground and she took great cares to avoid the hazards that filled Bobby's living room. Sophia had nagged him for days about picking up the clutter and junk but his response had been a rather amused huff of, "Don't get up and you won't have to worry about it." It was like he was trying to agitate her with every breath. Yes, her house was a little messy, with hunter clutter all over just for the sake of accessibility… but this was chaos. A controlled sort of chaos that only Bobby understood… that Sophia had been forced to understand from growing up in the mess.
The stacks were situated in different parts of his home. Monsters in the living room. Demon's in the study, witches and ghosts were in the spare room, and everything else was in the disorganized, dusty, and disarrayed room he called his 'library'. In every room there were random assortments of weapons and sigils. But what was the use when you couldn't find what you needed when you needed it? She had asked that of him one time and his exact response was, "I know where it is. That's all that matters, isn't it? Don't worry about it."
She couldn't really argue with that. … Though the phrase 'don't worry about it' was grinding her nerves.
So, it was with that lost battle fresh in her mind that she worked her way at an excruciatingly slow pace towards the front door.
The amount of accomplishment she felt at reaching the door brought a smile to her lips. "Heck yeah."
She half waddled, half hopped onto the porch, bracing herself on the door-frame then hopping to the hand railing nearest the stairways. She wobbled slightly, her breath coming fast from exertion. It was strange, how easily she was out of breath. She was used to hard days, but knock her in the head a little too hard, and she was ruined.
Brushing the thoughts away sharply, Sophia glanced up, searching for the truck that had been one of the few links to life she had.
Her heart hit her toes.
The front in was dented in, the front passenger tire bent up and over some twisted piece of metal, the windshield was shattered, but still in place… all in all, most of it looked like it was purely body work that with a few buffs and a ton of elbow grease, she could probably have the old Chevy up and running in a few weeks once she was up and running herself.
In the gusto to get down the steps and check out her favorite vehicle, Sophia forgot one of the more significant rules of having stitches on the back of your leg, random onslaughts of dizzy spells, and walking across the uneven wood of a splintering porch. Always watch your step.
Her left foot, the weak one, caught on a board, her right foot catching the left in an attempt to righten herself which more, caused her to trip. Her hands slipped from the railing and all Sophia could do was yell, "Aw, sh*t" and take a rather ungraceful tumble down the stairs.
Out of instinct, Sophia threw her arms around her recently injured head and just let herself roll down the splintering wood steps and onto the dirt, grunting when she hit the ground hard enough to knock her breath out.
She relaxed, then, letting out a long, slow breath. "Well that could have been worse." She grinned, relishing in her luck. She hadn't hit her head and hadn't managed to break a leg. And her stitches were…
She pulled a searching hand away from the back of her leg, groaning when she saw blood. Her stitches were shot. She let an exasperated groan, then tensed, not from pain, but from a sound that struck fear into her very soul.
Because there was nothing like the anger of Bobby Singer.
And he had just pulled up in his car.
"Sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t." Pulling herself up by her arms, Sophia maneuvered herself up and onto the bottom step, pulling herself up by the railing and hopping up the stairs. She heard a car door slam and, with her eyes widening in desperation, she plopped down onto the rusted metal chair that sat next to the door of Bobby's house.
Sophia tucked the bleeding appendage under herself, glancing towards the large, rather agitated man as he barreled his way towards her, his eyes glinting with anger. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Scrambling to hold his attention from the blood that was now slipping down her leg, Sophia gave the first, half question, half answer she could think of. "Getting some fresh air?"
Under his beard, Bobby gave a rather displeased huff, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, and my name's Carl. What the h*ll, Sophia?"
Shrugging in nonchalance, Sophia tucked her leg a little farther back. "Well, um… I was… it…"
His eyes widened and she knew instantly that she had been caught. "Is that blood?! Why the h*ll are you bleeding, Sophia?" Then his eyes went dark and he dropped his groceries on a nearby table, growling, "If you tore those stitches, Sophia, so help me!" He pulled her gently, despite his obvious anger, into a standing position, glancing to the back of her leg with trepidation.
Bobby had lived a long life. And much of his life he had spent around hunters, mechanics, and military men. He was considered a knowledgeable man, well read and a great hunting companion. But when it came down to it, hanging around the people he had for years had rubbed off on him.
To put it lightly, Bobby Singer could cuss more colorfully, in more languages, with more foulness than any sailor.
He showed his color when he saw the blood seeping from the deep wound in the back of Sophia's leg.
Sophia, if she hadn't been so scared, would have started jotting down some of the more colorful words in his vocabulary. But, she was scared. Because nothing was worse than an angry Bobby. Sophia would rather face spiders and demons - better yet, demon spiders - than she would face the wrath of her pretty much adoptive father.
To say the least, between the two nests of angry hornets, Bobby Singer managed to get Sophia back into working order, and Sophia managed not to kill her adoptive father who she continuously reminded herself was someone she wasn't supposed to hate.
Sophia never had done well being trapped. Be it for her health or otherwise.
It was when Sophia began to organize and move his things that first alerted Bobby to the fact that if he didn't allow her out of his house soon, she would begin to tear it down. She hardly slept, barely ate, and the longer she stayed, the more agitated she became. Bobby knew it had more do to with her past than it did her injuries. The memory ached when he thought of her, nearly eleven years ago, a skinny mess with wide eyes and covered in filth. She couldn't stand to be trapped from that day on. She refused to put locks on her closet doors still to this day.
It was for that reason that Bobby had given her the tools she needed to get her truck up and running a week earlier than he thought best, mostly because she could hardly stand another moment locked inside and if he wasn't careful, she would disappear into the world of hunting half healed and at risk.
So, it was with that in mind, that Bobby had hatched a plan. He had two people in mind that he knew would have Sophia's back. He called their daddy, letting him in on the pattern and asked him to send his boys out, without letting John know he'd be sending his own girl as backup. He would give her the tip and she'd get some unexpected backup. It was better than her going into something alone. She shouldn't be alone on any hunt, but after her brother just up and ran off, she hadn't had much of a choice.
So, with a nudge here and there, Bobby pushed Sophia towards a tip. Young couples were disappearing from the map, somewhere near Burkittsville, Indiana.
That morning, Sophia woke up, having slumped over on the couch only three hours ago, to Bobby standing over her with a stern, agitated expression.
"Alright, ya idjit. Up. Up!" His voice was more stern than his words, but there was something under his tone that had her doing as he asked. Concern.
She blinked at his hands filled with a coffee cup and a plate of food. Hash-browns, eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, and, her favorite, jelly. Sophia's eyebrows drew together, a small, confused smile on her lips as she rose, still favoring her slightly sore leg, and took the plate and black, unsweetened coffee from his hand. "Bobby?"
He grumbled and rested a large hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the kitchen, his voice gruff. "You haven't been eating, and I'm down right sick of it. So, eat."
Sophia was smiling for a moment before she turned to the kitchen, then felt a wave of discomfort fill her. That feeling on being unable to move. Unable to run. Unable to breathe. She cleared her throat, before shaking that thought away and sitting in the chair, basking in the light shining from the large windows. She planned on working outside again today, even if the impending clouds promised rain. Staying locked away inside, even with things to do, made her uncomfortable.
Bobby grumbled again, pushing the plate towards her with stern eyes. "Eat."
She smiled, and shoved a forkful of food in her mouth, watching him in curiosity. "What's got your panties in a bunch, Bob?"
Chuckling softly, he leaned forward, splaying a hand on the table. "You. You've been moping around here for two weeks, as if I had you locked up or something. You haven't been eating. You haven't been sleeping. You take showers long enough. Do you even have skin left on your arms?"
Sophia shoveled another mouthful of food in her mouth so she didn't have to answer. The fact was, she was rather raw from how often she showered. But it was to wash the memories off her skin, more than it was anything else. Jared had been her trusted friend. Angila had been a sweet girl. The ropes around her arms… Sophia blinked that away, quickly, her stomach turning. The food tasted like ash in her mouth.
Bobby watched her with deepening concern, then leaned forward, handing her a map. "I've got a job for you, darlin'. You gotta get out of this house."
Chewing slowly, Sophia began to nod. "Where?"
Bobby cracked a small smile, giving her the details of the deaths, pulling up records of pagan gods and their memos. It was a Vanir. And it was ugly. The only way to kill it was to get past the armed, animated effigy. It promoted prosperity and fertility. Funny how it destroyed couples in the process.
Sophia gave a soft laugh. "Seem's counterproductive, don't ya think, Bob?"
Bobby gave her a half inspired chuckle. "Yeah. I can see that."
Laughing softly, Sophia sat back against her chair, taking another sip from her coffee. "Why are you all gungho about this anyhow? Weren't you the one asking me to lie low and take some time off just a week ago? And now you're…"
Bobby's expression fell. "Soph… I know you. You've been hangin' around my place since you were 10 years old. You need a job, and I have one. This house ain't doin' nothin' for ya, except turnin' yer hair grey."
Eyes narrowing, Sophia asked, "What's that supposed to mean."
He chuckled. "Get out of here, ya paranoid rascal. 'Fore I give someone else the job."
Nothing else needed said as she jumped to her feet, snagging her always packed duffel bag and shouting back. "See ya, you old fart!"
And Bobby would have smiled if he hadn't seen the slight limp in her step. Under his breath, he whispered, "stay safe, Sophia." Because he couldn't do anything but hope she would return. Because she is a hunter. And that's a way of life.