page one: [link]
page three: [link]
Page four: [link]
Page five: [link]
And heres the rest of Team Free Will!
Part of the Farmstead!verse [link]
found here on tumblr
It takes Dean a moment to answer the phone when it rings. He’s still getting used to the fact that they have a landline, let alone that people actually have their number. Sometimes it takes the phone ringing out twice before he remembers he’s meant to answer it.
Before the well-rehearsed ’Singer Residence’ can fall off his tongue, Bobby’s growling into his ear, demanding to know if they’ve read the paper.
Dean can’t help his eyes flicking towards the nest Cas has made for himself on that butt-ugly couch, today’s Daily lost somewhere in the supposedly organized stacks, three months’ worth of local newspapers collected from five different nearby towns earlier today, creating a black and white maze around him.
“Yeah, Bobby, we’re just about to leave— Yeah, Sam caught wind of it this morning. The wondergeeks have been at it all day. Xolotl… yeah, they think so too,” Dean rattles off.
He jingles his keys impatiently in his pocket, fingers clenching and unclenching around their familiar shape as Sam rummages around the back of the kitchen cupboard for the machete he’d stashed there. Dean rolls his eyes as the old man prattles on.
“Yes, Bobby… copper pellets… yeah… rosemary too.It’s sticking to beef so far, but we’re not gonna wait till it gets to longpig…. Weknow. Hey, don’t get shitty with me just because we’re organized for once,” he snaps. He drops the phone to his side, staring up at the stained ceiling with all the patience a good son can gather, as snippets of Bobby’s tinny voice shutters out, “idjits! ungrateful! Be careful! Stubborn asses!” from his hand.
Dean’s already done the rounds, locked up the house, checked the salt lines, turned off all the lights, but of course the Geekettes aretaking their sweet-ass time getting ready, let alone getting into the car. Cas is cramming, triple-checking something, and Sam’s cursing, having somehow squeezed his gigantic shoulders into the cupboard, shoving pots and pans aside like a three-year-old. Dean’sbeen waiting for them to stop their primping for half an hour.
They’ve passed three hunts on to Bobby and his contacts since moving in, scattered hunts they found cropping up on the news or online out of state, but this one had strayed a tad too close to home to go ignored.
Bobby’s voice has finally fallen silent, so Dean risks putting the handset back against his ear
“We’ll call you when we’re done. Don’t wait up,” Dean promises before wishing the old coot a goodnight. Jodie’s voice is soft in the background and Dean grins. “You dog! Does she use the same cuffs in—” Bobby hangs up.
Dean quickly shoulders the duffel at his feet, scooping up the last handful of carefully packed shotgun rounds he’d spent all day preparing.
Papers rustle, cicadas shriek, a cupboard door slams shut and Sam spits out another curse. The moon’s rising and they have places to be.
“For frick’s sake, HURRY UP!” Dean yells.
// Squeee! This is our first prompt answer at the Farmstead! Theres a part two coming up eventually too! And Thankyou to [link]
who's agreed to be our lovely beta! and [link]
for the mindblowing rec! Yesterday was a good day
more at : [link]