AUTHOR'S NOTES: On the show 'Supernatural' something always bugged me about The Colt. Why just one super-powerful gun? If you've got that kind of skill and mystical know-how why just make one gun? So I addressed that.

Also, after all the episodes I've watched Bobby's rant in episode 4 of this season "Weekend at Bobby's" is a perfect expression of how much Bobby does and how little credit he gets for it. So I tried to do the scene justice.

Chapter 7

Just like boy bands, internet pop-up ads, and those Empire Floor commercials, there was only so much bitching and whining you could take before you completely snapped.

Bobby understood that the Winchester family had issues. God, the number of times he'd heard John griping about one thing or another… And while Sam wasn't as bad, Dean could bitch circles around his old man, especially now when he was hung up on whatever was wrong with his brother.

But there was a time to go along with it and a time to draw the line. When Dean accused Bobby of being selfish, that was the moment he'd had enough. "Where's your brother?" Bobby asked, trying to hold his patience until he had Dean and Sam on the line.

"Outside, why?" Dean asked, sounding puzzled.

"Get him," Bobby replied, not bothering to keep the snap out of his voice. After a moment, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and waited until Dean came back on the line.

"Okay, I've got Sam, Bobby," Dean said, still sounding both confused and put out.

"Put me on speaker," Bobby ordered, throwing politeness out the window. Once Dean reported he'd done so, Bobby poured himself a generous shot of whiskey and prepared to do something that he'd secretly wanted to do for years: let the Winchester brothers have it with both barrels. "Sam, Dean… I love you like my own. I do. But sometimes…." Downing his drink in one go, Bobby let loose. "Sometimes, you two are the whiniest, most self-absorbed sons of bitches I ever met!" All the times he'd helped them and never received so much as a 'thanks, Bobby', ran through his mind as he got going on the rant.

"I'm selfish? Me?" Bobby went on. He was on a roll now and there would be no stopping and no interruptions until he was good and ready. "I do everything for you. Everything! You need some lore scrounged up? You need your asses pulled out of the fire? You need someone to bitch to about each other? You call me and I come through every damn time! And what do I get for it? Jack, with a side of squat!"

As he expected, Dean tried to reply but this time, Bobby was having none of it. He didn't want to hear the excuses, the 'oh, sure, we get it, sorry' lame-ass crap. "Do I sound like I'm done?" Forcing himself to calm down before he had a coronary, he gave a deep, exasperated sigh. "Now, look… I know you've got issues. God knows, I know. But I got a news flash for you: You ain't the center of the universe! Now it may have slipped your mind that Crowley owns my soul and the meter is running! And I will be damned if I'm going to sit around and-and be damned! So how about the two of you sack up and help me for once?"

There was a pause and then Sam replied, "Bobby, all you gotta do is ask."

Dean chimed in as well. "Anything you need, we're there."

"You two just don't get it, do you?" Bobby went on as he poured himself another drink. "When was the last time either of you volunteered to help me with something? Do you have any idea how much I bust my ass for you and all the other hunters out there every damn day? Playing fed, looking stuff up, making sure whatever piece of crap you're driving stays running? I'm not just at your beck and call, you know!" When he heard his call waiting beep, Bobby suppressed another outburst and grumbled. "Hold on a minute. Do NOT hang up, or I swear to God…!"

"We'll be here, Bobby," Dean said quickly.

Switching to the other call, Bobby snapped, "What?"

"Yikes," came the voice of Stella Monroe. "Uh, I found that gearshift you were looking for. Just calling to let you know."

"Thanks," Bobby replied with a sigh. "Just send it out as soon as you can."

There was a sympathetic smile in Stella's voice as she said, "Already over-nighted it to you. Later, Bobby."

Going back to Sam and Dean, Bobby kept it brief and told them to get a flight out to Scotland before hanging up. After taking a few moments to regain his composure, he picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

"Where are you two going?" Kelly asked as she ran into Sam and Dean at the airport. She'd received a call from Bobby less than two hours ago telling her to get over to Scotland.

"Scotland," Sam replied, frowning slightly as he eyed Kelly.

"Same here," Kelly said with a nod. After a second, she asked, "Crowley?"

"Wait, how do you know about him?" Dean asked, grateful for any distraction from the upcoming 9-hour plane ride. Sure, Stella had given them the money for first-class seating but that didn't change the fact that it was still 9 hours on a plane. 9 long hours where anything could happen.

Kelly lowered her voice as she replied, "Crowley's the demon who held my mom's contract." Before she could go into detail, they called the flight she was on—the same flight as Sam and Dean—and she headed for the gate after shouldering her overnight bag—an oversized duffel—and palming two small pieces of paper to Dean and Sam. When she got to the gate, she was stopped at the metal detectors and before they could ask to search her bag, she withdrew the weapon carry permit her father had given her.

After heading through, she glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her face as she saw the brothers give their permits to security. When she'd told her father about the trip and what she'd hoped to accomplish, Gibbs hadn't liked the plan one damn bit. But he could see that Kelly was adamant about it and he'd made sure that she had a permit for whatever weaponry she decided to take along.

Once seated with the Winchesters in first class, Kelly looked over at Dean who looked like he was going to lose his lunch any second. "Relax, okay?"

"Relax?" Dean said, looking around the cabin of the plane. "You expect me to relax?"

"Ugh, here," Kelly said, rolling her eyes as she dug into her bag and pulled out her iPod and earbuds. "Movies, TV, music. Knock yourself out."

While Dean reviewed the listings on the player—he was surprised that Kelly actually had fairly good taste on some things—Sam turned to Kelly to talk. "So what's your beef with Crowley?"

Keeping her voice as quiet as possible even though first class wasn't all that crowded, she replied, "When I was 8, I was in a car accident with my mom. I was in a coma for 3 months. Mom made a deal with Crowley to save me."

Sam nodded, understanding how Kelly felt. "That's why you became a hunter?"

Kelly nodded, leaning back in her seat and hiding a smile as she saw Sam trying to get comfortable in his seat. As roomy at first class was, apparently Sam was still just a bit too tall for the seats. "Mom made me promise that if I ever found Crowley to put a bullet in him."

As much as he admired the mission, Sam replied, "You know regular bullets won't work on crossroads demons, right? I mean, even silver bullets are hit or miss."

"Don't worry," Kelly muttered, closing her eyes. "I've got it covered."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The iPod helped, but halfway through the flight, Dean was starting to go crazy as all his fears about flying started to drown out what he was listening to. Yanking the earbuds out of his ears, he looked at Sam and then over at Kelly who was apparently sound asleep, her head resting against the window. "How can she sleep at a time like this?" Dean asked, secretly envious.

"Turbulance is comforting," Sam replied, repeating what Kelly had told him before she nodded off.

Dean's wide-eyed gaze flicked over to Kelly before turning to the front of the plane. "She's insane."

"Hey, calm down," Sam said, frowning at Dean.

"I swear to God, the next person who tells me to calm down…!" Dean said, not paying attention to the fact that he was talking louder than he should have. But before he could say anything else, the stress he'd been feeling caught up with his stomach and he grabbed the air sickness bag tucked in the pocket of the seat in front of him just as his digestive system revolted. "God, I hate flying," Dean muttered as he threw up again.

Once in Scotland, Sam had looked up exactly where they were heading while Dean and Kelly headed for a local pub—Kelly for something to eat, Dean for a drink to help settle his stomach. Sitting at a table in the corner of the pub, Dean sipped his beer and felt his stomach turn a bit as Kelly dug into a thick, juicy burger. "Okay, how could you sleep through that plane ride?"

Kelly finished chewing as she wiped her hands off on the napkin by her plate. "I was actually on a carrier plane once when I was a baby. According to Mom, as long as we were in turbulence I slept like a log. Smooth flying, I cried."

"You are crazy, you know that?" Dean said, taking another swig of his beer.

"So I've been told," Kelly replied, going back to her burger. "So what did you and Sam do to piss Bobby off?"

Dean sighed as he fiddled with his glass. "You know, ever since Sam and me were kids, Bobby's always been like a second father. We never hesitate to ask him for anything. And we take him for granted." Leaning back in his chair he gestured to Kelly. "But, you know, what am I talking to you about this for?"

Kelly's eyes widened at that and she set her burger down, wiping her hands again. Leaning forward, she said, "You think my life's been easier? Or do you mean that I don't take Bobby for granted like you?"

"Hey," Dean snapped, angrily. "You had a life with your mother for 18 years. Your dad's still alive. You still have a home. Me and Sam, all we ever had was each other. That was our only constant when we were kids."

"Every time my father left when I was a kid I wondered if he'd ever come home!" Kelly snapped back. "My mother had nightmares sometimes of him coming home in a body bag!" Lowering her voice, she glared at Dean. "And before you start in on how I had a great life with my mom, let me tell you something. My last memory of my mother was watching her getting her guts ripped out by a hellhound right after she made me promise to hunt down the demon she made the deal with."

Dean thought about that for a moment before he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just saying…" Putting his hands up in truce, he shrugged. "You know what? Just forget about it."

"Fine by me," Kelly agreed, finishing her lunch as Sam came up to the table holding a map.

Once Sam was sitting next to Kelly, he said, "If we head out now we can make the castle by tomorrow evening. There's an inn couple miles away from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said, finishing his beer.

Once in their rental car, Dean looked at Kelly in the rearview mirror and asked, "So your dad just gave you a weapon carry permit?"

Kelly smiled at that. "Federal agents are allowed to have firearms on planes. When I told Dad about going to Scotland to finish things with Crowley, he put a rush on a permit for me. Then he figured the two of you would also have guns so he made sure that you could get 'em on the plane."

"Well, we'll make sure to thank him before we head out," Sam promised, still thinking about Bobby's rant earlier.

"So how are you planning on killing Crowley anyway?" Dean wanted to know.

Digging into her bag, Kelly replied, "I take you two heard the legend about Samuel Colt making a revolver for a hunter back in 1835?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, warily. He knew where the Colt was and wondered where she was going with the story.

"Well, back then the story spread," Kelly went on, pulling the rifle case from the bottom of the bag. "Some years later, Colt started redesigning the original gun and enhancing the charms and killing power of the first revolver." She handed the case up to Sam who was in the passenger seat and watched as he opened it.

"Wait, this…" Sam turned to look at Kelly. "This is a Winchester rifle."

"Appropriate, huh?" Kelly replied. "None of Colt's other guns were located. But there were a few hunters who worked for the Winchester Repeating Arms Company and when they found Colt's notes, they grouped together to create a gun to kill any demon alive but with a longer range."

Dean frowned and quick looked over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the road. Boy, he hated driving in the UK. "So how did you end up with it?"

"Bobby helped me track it down last year," she said, simply.

"Okay," Sam said, still a bit dubious about the whole thing. "Well, Dean and I are pretty good shots close up. But this is more of a long range thing."

"Hey, killing Crowley is my job," Kelly insisted. "And don't worry. Dad had me shooting a rifle when I was in 4th grade."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks at that. It was one thing to be raised as a hunter where learning how to shoot was a necessary life skill. But teaching a kid for the hell of it? Dean just shook his head. That was one of the reasons he'd been so hung up when Ben had been in the guns in the garage. Kids should be allowed to be kids. They shouldn't have to worry about what was out there until they had to.

The sky was overcast as Kelly crouched in the bushes roughly 600 yards away from Crowley's—or rather Fergus McLeod's—grave. She wished she had better light but as long as it didn't take too long for Crowley to get there she'd be fine. If only she'd thought to pack a night-vision scope, though…

xxxxx

When Crowley did finally show, Dean flicked his lighter and when the flame came up, he smiled as he held it over the bones that they'd sprayed with lighter fluid. "You know, Crowley, I'm still in the mood for barbeque. How about you?"

Crowley's smile was smug as he looked from Sam to Dean. "Oh, I wouldn't recommend that," he said, smoothly.

Dean smirked and asked, "Oh, yeah? Why's that? What's a punk-ass crossroads demon like you gonna do if I light your ass on fire?"

Crowley's smile was indulgent as he replied, "I was a punk-ass crossroads demon. Then Sam here proved that Hell needed better management. Now… I'm not just king of the crossroads. I'm King of Hell, too. And trust me, Sam's little stint down there? Pure entertainment. I miss it, really. So before you'd actually be able to torch my bones, I could send Sam back downstairs, locked up for eternity with Michael and Lucifer."

"You're bluffing," Sam said, quietly, although he knew deep down that Crowley was telling the truth.

"Oh, you want to add more incentive?" Crowley asked, clearly amused by the situation. "Fine, then. Not only will Sam die, but old Grandpa Campbell as well. Along with all the other hunters who came back from the dead."

"Whoa, whoa, wait…" Dean said, closing his lighter. He was pretty sure the now called 'King of Hell' wouldn't believe him if he accidently dropped the lighter. "Cass said they were being offered a choice. So, what? This is all one big crossroads deal to you? Bring them back and then in 10 years collect them again?"

Crowley walked around closer to his bones as he said, "Actually, Sam here hit it on the head. You see, all hunters are resources for information on a little real estate venture I'm pursuing. Planning on expanding my territory, you could say." After gathering his remains in the satchel he'd brought along, he straightened up. "Nice seeing you boys again. Stay in touch."

xxxxx

In the bushes, Kelly lined up her shot just as Crowley turned in her direction. He'd just raised a hand, looking as if he were going to snap his fingers when she pulled the trigger.