One never quite realizes how slow a car is until they gain the ability to travel to say China for instance in under a second. Dean wondered where that thought and the impatience over how long the ride to Nebraska was taking came from as he impatiently tapped the steering wheel of his beloved Impala which had been given to him by his father while Sam relieved himself on a bush by the side of the road. As he sat there waiting for Sam to finish taking a leak, he told himself it was more about the journey than it was about reaching the destination.
Frankly, aside from the chance to spend more time with Sam, the journey had been rather crappy so far, as had the one to Ohio and that bizarre incident at the museum, especially since they'd been stopped by a number of traffic cops who had given their radar guns incredulous stares when they blew past them at over a hundred and twenty miles an hour along the way. He had five speeding tickets written out to five separate aliases stashed in the glove compartment along with some napkins, a gun, some spare ammo, and half a pack of chewing gum. He couldn't keep the speed up though, and not just because of the cops who were frankly becoming annoying. The car hadn't been made to travel at what for it were such high speeds for such long durations, and was beginning to show signs of strain.
Less than two days after arriving in Alliance, Nebraska, everything was put back to rights including the teeth of that poor bastard who had run afoul of the pliers wielding tooth fairy, and the adorable little Antichrist thing had moved to Australia where he was undoubtedly surfing to his heart's content. If it weren't actually demon spawn, Sam would have said that it was a chip off the old block, since it didn't want to go ahead with Heaven's plans for it either.
Eventually, they were back on the road again, and they found themselves in a town where some witch was playing poker and gambling for years instead of money. A Twenty-four year old man had suddenly died of old age, and the coroner was trying to cover it up with a bunch of scientific sounding bullshit that added up to "I don't know what fucking happened. He just grew old and dropped dead one day.". When they arrived, they went looking for a missing man who turned out to be a philandering douchebag who had gotten a new lease on life. It had been him that had led Sam and Dean to Patrick and the game.
By the time they got there, Bobby was dying of old age despite the fact that he still had a couple of decades left in him. Dean ended up telling a furious Sam to go wait in the car before arranging to play a game with the witch. He gave Bobby twenty-five chips off the bat to restore the years that he'd lost, and told him never to do something that stupid again. Bobby, back to his former age, and none the worse for wear, sat back to watch the rest of the game.
Dean lost, and lost badly.
"What the hell are you?" the Irish witch who was named Patrick yelled.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"I just took fifty years off of you, and you didn't even age a minute!" Patrick the he-witch exclaimed.
"You didn't say yes to Michael did you?" Bobby asked, looking decidedly unhappy with him.
"Uh, not exactly." Dean replied evasively, giving Bobby that shifty look he'd first seen when little Dean had stolen a box of Nilla Wafers from the pantry.
"You're lucky I don't smite your ass." Dean said to the witch before turning to Bobby who was trying to discreetly wheel away from him.
"That reminds me..." Dean muttered before poking Bobby on the forehead, and healing him.
"Please don't tell Sammy about this." Dean said as an amazed and somewhat pissed off Bobby got out of his wheelchair and took a few experimental steps.
"Thanks for the healing, but I'll just be going to cool down a bit." Bobby said as he headed for the door. "You're going to be telling me precisely what you meant by 'Not exactly' later if you ever want to set foot in my home again."
When Bobby left, it was to find Sam standing next to the door waiting either for him or Dean or both.
"Bobby, you're..." Sam started, and trailed off, unable to find words.
"Walking. I can see that ya Idjit." Bobby replied sarcastically, still upset at Dean, and taking it out on Sam since Dean wasn't there.
"How?" Sam asked.
"I made a deal." Bobby said, not quite looking the boy he'd known since he was a small tot in the eye.
"Who with?" Sam asked, looking rather angry.
"Why do you want to know?" Bobby asked.
"So I know who shall suffer eternal torment in the darkest reaches of Hell." Sam replied with a fierce expression on his face that was completely alien to the boy he had known.
"Sam, you didn't say yes to Lucifer did you?" Bobby asked.
"No, of course not, why would you ask that?" Sam asked a little too quickly and defensively for his tastes.
"We're going to be having a talk about this the next time you two Idjits show up asking for something." Bobby said before shaking his head and sighing.
He wasn't in the right frame of mind to be dealing with this right now. He was going to find the nearest bar, get completely smashed, and call Rufus for advice. With the way his life had been going lately, it figured that Lucifer and Michael would turn out to be just like Sam and Dean. At least they liked him, and at the very least, pretended to listen to him. That was one small item in the rather short plus column for the shitfest that this year had turned out to be.