Saving people, hunting things.... the family business
Research complete, Bobby only had one thing left to do. He put the bottle of whiskey down on his cluttered desk and fished for the phone. He wished he didn't have to bother the kid with this, not now. He'd just come back to hunting, for Chrissakes.
But that wasn't how the job worked. And Dean knew that better than anyone.
He waited for Dean to pick up.
"Yeah?"
"I hope you're sittin' down," Bobby said.
"Driving count?"
"Pull over."
"Bobby, now is not the time for safety lecture. I'm after a demon that's got a line on--"
"Pull over. Now. I'm not gonna tell ya again."
Dean sighed into the phone, but he listened. He cut the engine and sat with his hands on the wheel of the Impala. "This is fun," he said sarcastically.
"Yeah. Know what's less fun? A pow-wow with every badass thing you can think of and some you can't in some mystical weirdo holding thing."