Bobby looked around at his boys. Finally! Dean was helping Sam crawl along. What the Hell had gotten into them was beyond him. "C'mon boys. There's another way to get to the panicroom. I added angel warding, just in case. We should be safe." The boys exchanged a look Bobby couldn't understand. There was something off about them. They didn't look right, sound right or even move right. He held the door to the cellar open. "Sam? Can you walk down the stairs ok?" Sam looked pale as a ghost. "I got him, Bobby. Don't worry." Dean answered. "Come on, you big galoot... Down we go... One.. Two..." Sam moaned in pain. "Don't whine. We'll get through this and then Gen can mollycuddle you all she wants. One more... Come on ya Polish oaf."
Bobby blinked. The tumble out of his window must have been rougher than it looked. Dean was even talking weird, his voice sounding higher and less gruff. "Shut up, Disney princess. You don't know anything about Gen and me." Sam spat, his eyes sparking. "Boys! Shush! If that angel hears us, we're in for it. Stop squabbling like an old married couple!" Bobby hissed, but the 'boys' didn't seem to notice him. "Disney princess, eh? How about I let you drop right here and now, you overacting, selfish, five year old!" Dean growled. "Overacting five year old? Look who's talking? Those pranks you pulled..." Bobby heard something move upstairs. "Shut up! Get your asses in here pronto, so I can shut the friggin' door!" Bobby felt panic rising in his throat. Finally, whilst looking daggers at eachother, the boys got inside the iron walls of the room. Bobby shut the door with a loud clang and turned the lock. "Now, would you two idjets tell me what the Hell is going on, while I stich up Sammy's leg?"
Jared sat down on the bed with a huf. "I should tell Misha who put that frog in his waterbottle..." he growled at Jensen. "You try that. I'll tell him who taped the airhorn to the toiletseat in his trailer." Jensen retorted. "Really, boys. I'm not sure what the Hell is goin' on, and I'm not sure I want to know either, but please, lemme get to work on this leg, before Sam here bleeds out. That bit of glass is at least three inches long, and half an inch wide. I'm just hopin' it missed tennons, muscles and arteries." Bobby grabbed the first aid kit and knelt down next to Jared's blood soaked jeans. "I gotta cut these open, boy." Jared whimpered.
"Come on! They're not designer, Padalecki! Let the man do his thing. Wardrobe will have replacements." The hazel eyes that Jared had squeezed shut in anticipation of the pain, flew open. "Shut up, Ackles! I couldn't care less about the jeans!" The scissors snipped at the hole the glass punched in the jeansleg. "Could you two shut up? Unless either of you can explain to me why Dean's voice has changed, why you two are suddenly at loggerheads, and what the Hell you two keep talking about, I don't wanna hear another peep outta either of you. This is getting to freakin' weird, even for me." Bobby rummaged around in the kit and pulled out a curved needle and some thread. The two men looked at him, abashed. "I didn't think so." he grumbled and got to work.