Entering the house that is packed with books, there are books everywhere the entryway into the hall, along with jars filled with various herbs, some with congealed blood, bones in others.
'Were the parents of this body not actually killed in a car accident?' I wonder as Dean leads us into a sitting area and points to a chair at a table that is rather congested with papers, maps and a couple of books along with a revolver, looking toward the kitchen I notice Bobby pouring some water out of a flash into my bowl of chilli.
I grab the rather shiny and polished silver spoon and begin eating the chilli, not being a fan of any chilli I eat it quickly, which makes Dean snort softly.
"Yeah…I don't think the normal tests work with whatever monster Matty has become, because only a monster could eat your chilli like that Bobby!" Dean jokes with a cocky grin on his face making Bobby slap the backside of his head.
"Shut it, you ungrateful whiny brat." Bobby says gruffly and pulls up a chair at the end of the table and begins eating his own bowl of chilly, while Dean looks thoroughly chastised as he looks down into his bowl.
"I don't know much about myself other than that I don't like Chili Bobby, but thank you for the food I haven't eaten in, while I can't remember when the last time I ate anything was, so it really hits the spot." I offer with a look of genuine gratitude on my face which makes Bobby cough into his hand awkwardly.
"Balls, you're welcome kid." Bobby's embarrassment is clear in his voice as he digs into his bowl of chilli.
"Alright, Matty…Bobby I gotta get back on the road, Dad's waiting on me to back him up on a job in Wyoming." Dean says as he stands up from the table he walks around it slaps his hands on my shoulders then heads out.
Leaving me alone with Bobby Singer, "You can use the couch tonight, and we'll get one of the spare rooms straightened around for ya, tomorrow." Bobby says as he shovels the last spoonful of chilli into his mouth.
"Thanks Bobby, I appreciate you letting me stay here…but I also don't want to be a free loader, I can get a job in town and pay you rent or you can teach me what to do around the yard…I notice you run a scrap yard?"
Bobby lets out a soft chuckle, "In a few weeks I'll have you trained up to be a decent mechanic, and goffer for information, books, parts and whatever else I might need." Bobby jokes good-naturedly as he stands up from the table and takes his bowl out to the kitchen sink.
"You're in charge of washing dishes and making dinner everyday from now on…until you move out." Bobby offers with a chin nod towards the kitchen, I shrug, grab Dean's bowl and head into the kitchen and start washing the dishes.
'Damn, shoulda kept my mouth shut.'
"I'm hitting the sack, the phone rings, answer it and come get me." Bobby says and lumbers off upstairs.
'I shouldn't be surprised that Bobby doesn't have a sponge, and just uses a ratty musty smelling rag…this place needs a cleanin.' I can't help but think and wash the dishes after putting the crockpot's insert into the fridge and unplugging the crockpot.
Washing up the dishes using the last of the dish soap, I start looking around the house for cleaning supplies, finding precious little.
Heading back into the sitting area, the toe of my right shoe catching on a throw rug, leaning down I notice something painted on the floor, lifting the rug further I find that it is a devil's trap that encompasses the table we all ate at.
"Heh, weird drawing to paint on your floor must be useful for something like…with how Dean said, Iron, Salt, Silver and holy water are your go to weapons for dealing with Monsters." I mutter just in case Bobby is eavesdropping on me and planning to cut off my head off or something.
Finding a notepad and a pen I scribble out a note for Bobby letting him know that I'm going into town for a bit.
Walking out of Bobby's house, and though I know I shouldn't, I slide into his Chevelle, and turn the key, the throaty rumble of the engine gives me a stiffy, it takes all of my willpower not to burn the tires as I drive out of Bobby's driveway.
~- — — — — — — — — — — -~
"Balls, this is why I didn't have any kids!" Bobby mutters but the corners of his lips almost form a smile.
'I'm gonna make that kid clean the yard.' The amused thought runs through Bobby's head as he makes his way downstairs pausing at the kitchen table, he reads the note that is written there.
{Hey Bobby, if you're reading this then it means you got up before I got back, you're probably pretty pissed off at me right now, and if I was in your place I'd be pissed off at the kid who stole my ride after I welcomed him into my home. But that brings me to another thing: your house is filthy and you're pretty limited on cleaning supplies, limited being a genuine descriptor. So I'm running into town to pick up some cleaning supplies and snacks.} Bobby reads the note over ten times and finally heads back upstairs to actually go to bed this time.
'I doubt he'd go buy cleaning supplies if he planned to off me in the middle of the nigh-' Bobby begins to think and then grabs the revolver he keeps in the nightstand by his bed loaded with silver bullets, cocks back the hammer and falls into a very light sleep.