Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Bobby, Dean, Sam
Challenge/Prompt: anythingdrabble 39: Dump
Word Count: 500
Date Written: 7 June 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
“Balls,” Bobby snaps, his mustache twitching with irritation, when he spots fast food bags, containers, and drinks scattered across the edge of his territory. He walks over to pick it up, muttering about the damn town kids and their lack of respect the whole time. He’s picking up the trash when another truck whizzes by. This time the kids are laughing as they throw more trash out. “CLEANING UP YOUR DUMP, OLD MAN?!”
Bobby turns quickly, but the truck is already too far gone for him to catch it, drag the brats out by their collars, and beat some manners into them. He shakes his fisted hands in fury instead. “COME BACK, YOU IDJITS, AND I’LL TEACH YOU SOMETHING!” But, of course, the truck just keeps going. Bobby sighs and turns back to cleaning his yard.
He freezes, realizing he’s no longer alone. A man dressed in a simple business suit stands beside him. “I could make it into a palace for you if you want,” he offers quietly. “They’d never make fun of you again.”
The man’s suit may be nowhere near as fancy as Crowley’s, but Bobby still recognizes a Demon when he sees one. “Or I can send you back into Hell,” he growls, simultaneously yanking a gun out of his boot. It’s already loaded with rock salt, and as he stands, he fires, dead on. The Demon screams as it flees its meatsuit.
Bobby sighs as the body collapses onto his ground. His mustache twitches again. “Now I’ve got a body to clean up too, damn it.” But before he leans down to collect the body, he looks again at his yard. The townspeople only see old cars, but he sees a memory in each and every one of the deserted automobiles. They’re old and have been given up on by society, just like himself, but they’re far from being trash.
“Damn idjits,” he mutters again. He puts his gun back into boot, bends down, and picks up the dead body’s wrists. He’s just starting to drag the body when another force lifts the other end, suddenly making it a lot lighter. His questioning gaze snaps to the body’s feet, and he sees Dean carrying the other end.
Dean grins up at him. “Looks like we got here just in time.”
Bobby smirks and glances at Sam who’s picking up the trash. He sighs. “I missed you boys too,” he admits, looking back up at Dean.
“Damn kids,” Dean mutters, following Bobby’s gaze to Sam and the trash. “If they knew half the stories we do, they’d have more respect for this place.”
Bobby’s mustache jerks. “Yeah,” he says softly, refusing to allow even to himself how old he now feels with Dean also complaining of the brats, “but then their childhood would be over.” Dean’s eyes soften with that remark. He looks away, back to Sam again. “They just need their asses busted, is all.”
Dean grins. “Hey, we’re the best Ass Busters in town.”