Title: Bobby's Daughter
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize…
Warnings: Nope.
Notes: Nope.
Enjoy!
Dean came back from town later that day with a grumble. He stormed into the living room where Sam was watching TV. I heard the front door open and came to see who had slammed my antique door. Cause they were going to pay.
"We're leaving," was all Dean said to Sam before heading upstairs – presumably to pack his bag.
Sam looked at me, questioningly, and I shrugged. "Better pack," I said. "He doesn't look like he wants to wait."
"Yeah," Sam sighed and grabbed his bag from the floor. He started to stuff some of the things he had taken out back in.
I went upstairs and into Dean's room. I knocked on the door. "May I," I asked, being polite.
Dean looked up from his bag. "Yeah."
I came inside and sat on his bed. "What's wrong?"
He went back to packing. "Nothing. Just can't get a body here."
"Where can you then?"
He shrugged, "Somewhere."
"Where's somewhere?"
"Nowhere." Okay, he was asking for it. He put his bag on the bed next to me before zipping it up. "Thanks for everything, Sydney."
And he started to walk out of the room.
"My father's. You're going to my father's salvage yard because he has a body for you." Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He paused before putting his bag down gently and turning to me. "That's why you won't tell me."
He nodded. "Yeah."
I bobbed my head gently and sighed. "Why are you angry about that?" He wouldn't answer. "Dean?"
"Because, Syd. He hurt you. You're this great girl and he's not in your life. I can't think of any reason on why he'd want to do that."
"And you're mad because he left me."
"Yeah."
"Well, then," I said, standing up and walking past him, "I better pack if I'm gonna keep you from killing Mr. Singer."