ultraviolet9a | The Conman (and the end of the world)

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>> The Conman (and the end of the world)

TITLE: The Conman (and the end of the world)

AUTHOR:

ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: Mild for season 1 I reckon, and heavier for IMToD, BUaBS, Tall Tales and Heart.

GENRE: Gen. Post apocalyptic.

CHARACTERS: Bobby above and foremost (god I love him), Sam and Dean, mentions of Ellen and John.

SUMMARY: “Well…he buried and burnt enough to know what hunting’s really about. Not running. Not following. Just hiding. And waiting. Making sure that whatever it is you’re after will eventually cross your path.” Post apocalyptic. Bobby. Just because.

RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, I make no money. Damn.

NOTE: So after Trigger and The Fourth Day a plot bunny bit my ass. (and I don’t mean the four-legged creature related to donkeys.) This is a standalone piece but for complete understanding, you could always read the two mentioned above (in any order you like, really). Cuz all are centred around one event, just from different perspectives.

Bobby’s smart, real smart. Always has been. He tries to hide it beneath faded baseball caps and fishing vests, beneath his silent shrugs and the way he shoves his hands in his pockets. The strongest weapon is always the one you don’t see coming, see. No one and nothing sees Bobby coming, and Bobby’s been around to tell the tale. Unlike John and dammit, his eyes begin to sting at the mere thought.

He’s buried a lot of people. Or rather, burnt. John and Jim just two names on a long list that started years and years ago, when Bobby was still young and blazing. Could see him coming a mile away, with his laughter and his knowledge and that sharpness right behind the pupils of his eyes. Well…he buried and burnt enough to know what hunting’s really about. Not running. Not following. Just hiding. And waiting. Making sure that whatever it is you’re after will eventually cross your path.

So he’s waiting and watching. Watched the maelstrom built around the Winchesters till it claimed John, and Bobby is no fool, he knows why John had to die.

Shit, he would have died himself for John’s boys. They’re good boys. Deserved none of the shit that fell upon them since the day they were born.

Watched them grow, often with a frown on his forehead and concern in his eyes. Knew the storm was coming even before John did.

The storm. Storm a-coming.

And he knows them. Knows them as if they were his own-and in a way they are. He can lay claim on them if he wants to, cuz whole chunks of their life have been lived here, in his junk yard, in this house.

“Can’t con a conman,” he told the Demon that wore Sam and got rid of him. Ran like the devil to get to them when they called about the Trickster.

But knew that the real storm just lay ahead. Cuz Bobby’s smart, you see. Always has been.

****

The boys came over two days ago. Loaded with salt and holy water, blessed ammo, charms, weapons, anything that they could think of, mute determination etched on their jaws, their eyes, the rigidity of their moves.

They don’t have to say much, and when they do, Bobby already knows most of it. Forces them to have a peaceful night under his roof before they go to end their quest. Promises help. Like always.

He overhears (eavesdrops really, but Bobby likes to adjust semantics to what suits each need) the boys talk, Dean trying to get Sam to sleep, Sam unable to.

“Swear it, Dean, if things go wrong…”

“Sam, I’ve already…”

“And you never kept it. No, Dean, this time I want you to swear on dad’s grave.”

“Technically he wasn’t buried.”

“You know what I mean, Dean. Just swear it, dammit.”

“Sammy, c’mon, man. Things won’t go wrong, alright? Now sleep.”

“If they won’t go wrong, why can’t you swear? Some things need to be done, Dean, even when they break your heart. You’ll be saving me, just like...”

“This is nowhere near Madison! You’re my brother, dammit! … Jesus, Sam, what do you want me to say?”

Shuffle of feet, creaking of the floor, nervous pacing, murmurs. An angry thump against the wall. Angry whispers. Imploring. Bobby doesn’t need to hear more.

The boys leave in the morning.

Bobby takes out his journal and thumps through it. Calls Ellen first; knows she can summon a lot of them up.

He waters the small pots he has outside the window, cooks all the meat he has left in the freezer- fine meat too, steak and ribs with his special sauce, and he’s glad he has a big freezer cuz Sam almost ate through the whole of it last night, no wonder Bobby’s sprained his neck talking to him- eats his own share, leaves most of it for Rumsfeld, who digs in, tail thumbing on the floor.

In his mind, Bobby’s already listed the spells and weapons he needs to take with him, so actually sorting them out goes fast. He loads his truck, is ready.

He pats Rumsfeld on the head.

“You’re a good boy,” he says. Rumsfeld whines at the back of his throat, wants to jump in the passenger seat.

“Not this time, boy,” Bobby says. He leaves. As he drives off, he hears Rumsfeld’s howl rising in the air.

He shivers.

Storm’s already here.

****

Quick stop at the graveyard nearby. He tries to keep it neat, as much as he can, he and other people that have folks here. One of the few Bobby had actually buried, though years later he came back to burn the bones right on the spot.

“Hey, mama,” he says, cap in his hands. “I guess the storm came after all.”

His mama always told him to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It was damn fine advice to Bobby’s ears, but it doesn’t apply here. Cuz he knows his boys, you see. No matter how many hunters there are, no matter what Dean swore, no matter what Sam wishes. The storm’s not a-coming. The storm’s here. Always has been. Waiting for everyone to cross its path eventually.

Bobby starts walking away.

“See you on the flipside, mama. Soon.”

Cuz he already knows how it’s gonna end. Can’t con a conman, see. Can’t con a storm. And Bobby’s smart. Always has been.

-The End

SIDENOTE: The uhm…trilogy [where Sam and Dean are the storm (Trigger), Ash and Jo are waiting for the storm (The Fourth Day) and Bobby goes to the storm (The Conman)] started cuz e313 and I were bored and did an apocalypse fic challenge. For her take on things (which I admit, are much more optimistic than mine) start here. You’ll like.

Current Mood: busy

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From:

hiyacynth.livejournal.com

Forces them to have a peaceful night under his roof before they go to end their quest.
I love this--Bobby's forced kindness, and the fact that the boys need it forced on them.

He overhears (eavesdrops really, but Bobby likes to adjust semantics to what suits each need) the boys talk,
LOL. See, this right here? Why Bobby is so awesome.

Shuffle of feet, creaking of the floor, nervous pacing, murmurs. An angry thump against the wall. Angry whispers. Imploring. Bobby doesn’t need to hear more.
And this set of lines broke my heart. Broke. So simple, but they say so much.

“Hey, mama,” he says, cap in his hands.
OH, Bobby!

See? This here? What I was talking about back in your envy post. The good stuff just keeps coming!

From:

the mirror lj so far? Don't know yet.

The Conman (and the end of the world)

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