Sorry for the short chapter, but I had to get this out. I don't intend to disappoint. Please review. 3
Chapter 4
It took Bobby all night and half the next day to make it to Kenzie's little bungalow, that skirted the town. He parked his rusty, loyal, truck outside, parallel to Dean's Impala. It took him quite a few tries to step out of the truck, knowing Sam, half the duo, that he had taken under his wing, years ago, was sitting inside the very house that he was parked outside of, playing with his rusty colored mustache. He ambled toward the back of the truck, hefted two heavy duffels and swung them and himself towards the front door. He didn't know why he bothered knocking; which was an outright lie, he knew damn well. Sam was on the other side of that door. The same boy that turned into a loner, angered and distant, but no more a boy, than he was now a man; a man no longer a child.
The door swung open, its hinges in need of a good oiling, and Bobby stood as upright as he could as Sam stood on the opposite side of the threshold. Sam nodded, his right hand holding tightly on the door's thin frame for support.
"Bobby."
Bobby stared straight through Sam, almost passed him, and caught Kenzie's eye. Her deep set, soulful eyes, pleaded with Bobby to play nice. The ill-fated words he had spun round and round in his brain on the drive over dissipated into a gruff, heartfelt, drivel of words.
"Damn good to see you, boy," he dropped his bags on the steps and took Sam into his burly grasp. Sam choked on his words, as Bobby wrung him tight. He patted Bobby's plaid laden back.
"You too, Bobby, you too."
Kenzie sidled up along side the two grown men and nudged Bobby's side. She cocked her head to the left and smiled, offering her hands out as she spoke,
"Got anymore lovin' left in ya, old man?"
"Hmph," he reached over and pulled her into the already made hug, "I ain't old, I'm just seasoned."
Chuckling through the stale air and the awkward moments that rolled right off their backs, Kenzie showed Bobby into her small living room and Sam handed him a cold brew. While Bobby had been driving all night, Sam and Kenzie had been brainstorming on ways to approach the Dean situation.
"We've been thinking," Sam tossed a pad of lined paper towards Bobby, his chicken scratch of notes and references, landed in Bobby's lap.
"From what I've gathered, along with Kenzie's help," he nodded her way, "we've got two scenarios."
"One," Kenzie stepped in, "what we've been seeing isn't Dean at all, but an echo, not far off from a death echo, but a representation of what was."
"In other words," Bobby liked to cut to the chase, "something or someone's been messin' with our memories of Dean and luring us out into the open, like bait?"
"Yeah," Kenzie scratched at her head, "pretty much."
"What else you got?" Bobby wasn't having that. "In five or less words, this time." Kenzie scrunched her nose at Bobby who just shrugged her off.
"Well," Sam pointed at the second page of his notes, "in less than five words…Dean's back."
"Back, boy?" Bobby took a swig of his beer, "In what sense?"
"Mortal, alive, tangible," Sam trailed off as Bobby interrupted.
"Then explain to me how we've all been see'n Dean, in different times 'n places?"
"Only one way to find out," Kenzie pulled on her cap and stood up, "we gather our resources, I pick up a few supplies, and we go in, first thing at dusk."
"What supplies you talkin' about?" Bobby was intrigued.
"There's a feed store downtown, they sell salt by the bagfuls."
"And what we have planned," Sam smiled, his thin lips pursed together, "we're gonna need a lot."