WHO: Sam & Martha. WHAT: Martha has a key. WHEN: Late afternoon. WHERE: Bobby's place. RATING: PG-13 at best.
Whenever training for the day ended, Sam usually found himself in any location that wasn't the inside of Bobby's house. It was a decent enough house and Sam liked it well enough to have stayed there more than once (the place had a friggin' panic room, for crying out loud - if there was anywhere that he felt safe enough to crash, it was definitely Bobby's), but he just wasn't feeling the need to hang out inside when there were so many different people coming in and out at all times. A new group this week, then another the week after. Sam didn't mind training everyone (at least to a certain point; he was still pissed off that they weren't out tracking Lilith), but every now and again he needed to be away from the groups of people and just out. Less questions on why this needed to be done against demons and how that worked against werewolves or whatever else the routine of the day was. Sam just needed a break, plain and simple. A few breaths of fresh air, a simple enough walk around the salvage yard to keep himself from getting too frustrated. An important thing, he'd noticed, was that he had to keep his patience often when he was working with these people. Why? The fact that there were a few of them that could probably give him a good ass kicking was a decent factor. But the idea of alienating these people who could prove to be excellent allies in the future was the last thing that Sam ever wanted to do. They had proven themselves capable in the past. If Sam failed in his fight against Lilith, they would need to be ready. They'd need to be able to protect themselves and everyone else from the white-eyed bitch that had killed his brother.
Biting down onto his lip, Sam stared hard at the dusty spot on the ground before him. He had given up on walking some time ago; rather, he'd taken to a spot near some of the old, rusting vehicles that were piled up on top of one another. Arms folded across his chest, Sam had leaned back against a stack (a Ford with the doors missing on each side, the twisted frame of a Mustang, and what Sam thought might well have been the remains of a Chevy Blazer) of vehicles to think. They had a few more weeks left in this place. No word on Lilith from anywhere. The best he could think of doing was hunting around for a while until something came up, but even then that wouldn't be enough, would it? Quite honestly, Sam was half tempted to try summoning her. It had worked well enough for Ruby the few times he'd done it. Why not attempt the same with her? At least then she wouldn't be in hiding anymore.
At the same time, who was to say she'd even bother coming for him?
Scowling moodily, Sam turned on the stack of vehicles and barely resisted bringing a leg out to kick it. No kicking the mountain of unstable looking cars. That'd be a bad plan. It was a good thing he'd held out on the temptation, too, as Sam could hear footsteps approaching. The last thing that he needed was to give anyone reason to think something was bothering him. He didn't want people to know that he was bothered. So, as best as he could, Sam straightened up and turned around. Face neutral. Body less tense than it had been before. Sam pushed a hand through his dark hair and looked ahead, eyes meeting the approaching figure immediately.
Martha. It was Martha. Well, that wasn't so bad. It could have been Morgana again, after all.