A whack to the back of their heads reminded them of the third person there. "Jared? Jensen? Sheet? Rewrites? What are you two idjets on about? Are you having me on? Because the middle of an angel civil war ain't the time to be yanking my chains, boys!" They looked at eachother, totally stumped. "Jim... What.." Jared started, but he got interupted. "There ya go again, calling me Jim! My name is Bobby Singer, and you two knuckleheads just got thrown through my livin'room window. Now, will you follow me?" He looked the other way. When they followed his gaze, they saw the silhouet of a house, painted against the dark, stormy sky.
Light was spilling out a shattered window on the ground floor. Two silhouets were dancing around inside. "Good. Those wingnuts are too busy with eachother." the grumpy voice of Bobby whispered at them. "Dean? Sam?" When they didn't respond, he looked around at them. "Get your heads on straight, for Godssake!" Jared blinked. "Yes, sir." Jensen's pulled a stumped O-face, but Jared whispered: "I think we're not in Kansas anymore, Jensen." Bobby looked back at him. "Kansas? Y'all left Kansas ages ago! My house is in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in case you've forgotten." Jensen looked sideways at his co-star. "You suggest we play along?"
Jared nodded. "My leg really hurts, Jensen. I think I need a doctor, but as long as we're lying here, discussing stuff in the mud, it won't get any better." Jensen looked at the shard of glass in that muscled leg again, and nodded. "Okay. Better not get that out yet, it'll start bleeding worse for sure. Can you move that without fainting?" Jared pulled his leg up a bit. "It hurts, but yeah. No worse than that bite I got from a horse, when I was seven." Jensen grimly nodded. "Let's follow 'Bobby' then. Here, I'll help you along."