#ninetypercentcrap

[withthundcrousapplause]

ninety-percent-crap replied to your post:This is the end, isn't it?//Ninety-percent-crap{Closed}

[ No, darling, you’re fine. I think I’m about to sleep, though so don’t freak out if I drop off soon. ]

//Okay :) And same actually. It was a long day today, and hot.

[withthundcrousapplause]

This is the end, isn't it?//Ninety-percent-crap{Closed}

Sam sat in the passenger side of the Impala as his brother drove down the dark road. It had been a month since he walked into the room and saw his brother still alive and kicking. But there was one part of it that sent chills down his back-his brother was holding the blade.

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother, who was staring straight ahead with an expression of anger, well...that's been Dean this past month- Obsessed, angry, and short-tempered..and surely, this hunt they just finished didn't help. Crowley slipped through their hands once again.

"Listen Dean, I know you're pissed right now, but I'm telling, we'll get him."

Little did the younger Winchester know...that was the one thing they shouldn't do.

[soullessbobbysinger]

Reckoning or reconciliation

*Bobby knew that revealing himself to Dean was dangerous, for both of them, but if he had any hope of finding an answer, he needed to have his help, and wherever Dean was, he couldn’t get in.  

Of course, things were ticklish, they were hunting the creature leaving cold bodies, the signs of ghost and demon on the scene, and he wasn’t sure if they knew what they were hunting.  The Bounty Hunter was a legend, and a vague one at that, but if anyone had lore on it, it would be the Men of Letters.  It was worth the risk.

Which was why he was sitting on the hood of his work car at the assigned meeting place waiting for Dean to show up.  He figured Dean would be late, double checking to make sure Bobby didn’t have backup.  He was contemplating what to say when the familiar car drove up.*

[soullessbobbysinger]

Hunter in distress repost (Open)

*Bobby felt the snap.  And the pain but he didn’t have time to stop.  He ran as hard as he dared, crashing through the tree line until his feet gave way beneath him and he landed hard.  A heavy curse issued from him.  He knew the other man probably wasn’t too far behind.  He didn’t count his luck good enough to have hit him, not from that distance.  At worst, he pissed him off, at best he slowed him down or disarmed him.  But he felt someone roll him over and right then the pain in his broken arm was bad enough that he couldn’t do much more than weakly bat.  

To say he looked like hell was an understatement.  He was dirty, bloody, cut and bruised, and looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in days, two to be exact, maybe three by now, but he wasn’t sure he was counting anymore. 

Any minute he was expecting a knife or a gunshot as the hunter behind him caught up and did him in, he was far too weak right now to fight it.  The grit and grime were making it hard to see, as was the fact that he was just bone tired.  He prayed, no he hoped that whoever had found him wasn’t the hunter that was after him. *

You’re gonna do somethin’ jus get it over with.  

[soullessbobbysinger]

looking for a 'post hell' and Sam

I would love to have a storyline/ AU where Dean comes back from hell KNOWING about the Devil's Bounty Hunter, and hunting it.  Only to find that the Bounty Hunter is Bobby Singer... PLEASE?

Sam too.  Sam comes back from the Pit armed with knowledge of the Bounty hunter, and wanting to get rid of it... Again, only to find that it is Bobby Singer....  PLEASE

[soullessbobbysinger]

Hunt gone wrong (open)

*Bobby Singer knew a couple things.  The first thing he knew was that he was hurt.  Badly hurt, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, and his head was foggy.

The second thing that he knew was that he was in the hospital.  Beyond that was nothing, well, mostly nothing.  Jumbled bits of information, none of which contained his name.  The only name he had right now was Officer Pete Winters, and he didn't know what had happened.  Had he been under cover?  He wasn't sure.

He had an image of him showing his badge to someone.  And someone or something shooting him, not once but three times.  And then there was the knife wound.  Miraculously, the shots, though painful, seemed to have somehow missed his heart.

and the knife wound to the abdomen was painful, but not instantly fatal.  He knew he had a car, the keys were in his things that the hospital staff had brought for him to look over, they were familiar but he couldn't say why.  

The nurses had said someone wanted to come in and visit him.  For now they had him in as Peter Winters.  he hoped whoever was coming to visit could shed some light on the subject.*

[soullessbobbysinger]

Cold equation (open)

*Bobby had told himself it was nothing.  He had told himself he was ok, he'd killed the were, silvered, salted, and burned the body, and was packing to go when he noticed.  the silver salt he had dumped on the pyre had left him with a black haze on his hands.  One that wouldn't come off and itched.

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he did a silver test, and it was no big surprise when he failed.  The reaction was sluggish, but it was a reaction.  Not sure what to do, he reached for the phone with his non-bitten hand, hitting the speed dial, he put the phone to his ear.*

I need help.  *the words were out before anyone spoke.*  please.  I need help now.  *he passed out before he managed to get any farther.  And he prayed when he opened his eyes, there would be someone there to help him, to put him out of his misery.*