Singer's Salvage Yard must have been a real sight for sore eyes where Dean was concerned. As far as Nim was concerned, it was somewhere new, but even she could spot the little signs that betrayed it as a place of business for those who hunt. As the Impala drew to a halt 'round the back of the blue-sided house, she lowered from her arch over the back of the front seat, checking the sigils she'd just marked on the roof of the car against the sigils documented in the journal. She was still a little surprised Dean had let her deface his Baby at all, but then, they needed all the protection they could get right now. Lowering her eyes as she closed up the journal once again, she looked around briefly. "This is it, huh?"

Dean wasn't overjoyed about Nim defacing his Baby, but better safe than sorry, and he could always fix her up later when all this was over - assuming they won, and if they didn't, it wouldn't matter anyway. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as they drove into the yard and pulled up not far from the house. He knew it didn't look like much from the outside, but appearances could be deceiving. If this Bobby was anything like the one he'd known back home, then this was the safest place they could be right now.

He pulled the Impala to a halt and threw her into Park, glancing over at the house, which seemed a little too quiet from the outside. "This is it. Don't expect a mint on your pillow tonight." Something else maybe, but not a mint.

"Not sure I'm expecting a pillow," she admitted ruefully, the curve of her lips flickering a faint smile as her eyes swept the yard. "There are a lot of hiding places here." She didn't like feeling as though she was constantly under surveillance, hoping that it was just an over-zealous reaction to being hunted by things she'd not encountered before now. "Okay, let's get inside. You get to fend him off while I draw on his walls."

Dean remembered drawing on the walls and windows of Bobby's house back home and was fairly certain once the man knew why they were defacing his home, he'd be fine with it. "You get inside. I'll get the bags." It was broad daylight, and Dean was fairly certain they were safe so long as the sun was shining. He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys, glancing over at her as he snatched the journal up off the front seat. "Take this," he told her, handing her the journal, realizing in that moment how important that little book had become.

Wrapping her fingers around the leather-bound book, Nim moved to slide out of the Impala, drawing her Glock from the back of her pants. She didn't argue with him exactly, but she took her time moving toward the house. Did he really think she was going to leave him out here alone when there was even a chance that those hybrids had beaten them here" Tucking the journal inside her jacket, she backed toward the back door of Bobby's house, glancing in through the window closest. "Don't be long, Dean."

Dean climbed out of the car and pushed the door closed, casting a wary glance around the yard to make sure they weren't being watched. He reached into his jacket for his Beretta as he watched Nim make her way toward the house, slightly relieved when he saw a familiar face pull the door open, cranky though it was.

"Took you long enough to get here," the cranky voice said as the back door to Bobby's house opened and Bobby himself stood there, glaring out at the two younger hunters. "You get lost or something?" he asked, doubtfully, knowing they more than likely either stopped for food or something else, but not really wanting to know what the something else might be.

Once Bobby's face appeared in the doorway, Dean visibly relaxed, cracking an amused smile as he left Nim to Bobby and went about gathering their bags.

For someone alert to her surroundings, Nim completely missed the door opening behind her, jumping violently at the rough voice growling out barely four feet from her back. "Jesus! Bobby, make noise when you walk!" she complained, relief rushing through her at the sight of the older hunter all in one piece. She relaxed her hand about her Glock, flicking the safety back on again as she turned to look at Bobby. "Harvelle make it here okay?"

"Yeah, he's here. A little freaked out, but here." Bobby looked the girl over a moment before his gaze wandered toward Dean. "You two okay' You look like hell," he remarked, a watchful eye focused on Dean as he gathered their bags.

Tucking her gun back into her pants, Nim let out a sigh, releasing as much of her tension as she could in one breath. "Well, I've had one hell of a night," she told Bobby, gesturing toward Dean. "And he's had one hell of a weekend." Her eyes rose to meet Bobby's. "Don't ask yet. Long story, he's not telling it until everyone's here."

Bobby arched a heavy brow at the girl, both impressed and irritated by her gumption, daring to tell him what to do in his own home, but he had a feeling she had Dean's best interests at heart. "Stories can wait, so long as you're safe. How's a hot cup of coffee and a hot shower sound?" he asked, pulling open the door to allow her entry.

In the meantime, Dean was checking and rechecking the Impala before finally making his way over, hauling their duffles along with him. "You two playing nice?" he asked as he came up beside Nim.

To tell the truth, Nim was a little surprised by her own bravery in laying down even one rule to Bobby's face. The man was intimidating, but she was working on the theory that he wasn't going to be allowed to get too unpleasant with her, so long as she behaved herself. Still, it was a relief when Dean came up beside them. "I do solemnly swear to behave myself," was her answer to her lover's query, flickering a smile toward Bobby. "A hot shower sounds like heaven, Bobby, thanks."

The older hunter grunted, glancing from one to the other. "It ain't heaven. Plumbing don't work right half the time, and I'm running out of guest rooms, but it's safer than most places." He flashed a glare at Dean, but there was no malice in it. "When ain't I nice? Name one time." Dean opened his mouth to fulfill Bobby's request, but Bobby cut him off. "Never mind. Sorry I asked. Now get your a$$es in here before you let the flies in."

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about using up two of those vanishing rooms with us." Nim smiled sweetly at Bobby, amused by the way he spoke to Dean and got away with it. She slipped inside, past Bobby, drawing the journal out of her jacket as she went. Flicking the pages open once more, she went straight to work, biting the lid off a permanent marker as she advanced on the north wall of the house, 'defacing' Bobby's house the same way she had 'defaced' Dean's car.

He smiled at her question, knowing exactly who that made him, even though the two had never been linked romantically as far as he knew. "That makes me Batman," he replied. "But I think he had a thing for Catwoman." He tenderly brushed his fingers against her cheek. "Shall I show you to your room, Madam?" he asked, with a smirk,

Her mouth opened in a laughing grin, fingers curling warm into his t-shirt as he smirked down at her. "Madam?" she repeated with incredulous amusement. "How old do you think I am, good sir" Fifty?" A comical snicker touched her face. "Wait, Wonder Woman at fifty ....that's a bad mental image."

"Trust me, Wonder Woman is a lot older than fifty, and she's still pretty hot," he grinned back, the moodiness fleeing in the wake of her sense of humor. He pressed a quick but warm kiss against her lips before pulling away to take up their bags once again. He'd stowed the weapons back in the trunk and was hauling one duffle against each shoulder. There were several bedrooms upstairs, but Dean assumed Bobby wanted them to use the one with the double bed. "I feel like I could sleep for a week," he told her as he started toward the stairs.

She smiled against his lips, turning to follow him. Her hands swung uselessly by her sides, bereft of being allowed to carry anything in the wake of his hint toward chivalry. "You think you're sleeping in the same bed as me without washing up first, you've got another thing coming," she informed him laughingly, glancing toward the kitchen as she followed Dean toward the stairs. "When Bobby mentioned plumbing, he was talking about the house, right?"

Dean smirked, tossing a glance over his shoulder at her. "Want me to ask him?" he asked, teasing as he started up the stairs. "Maybe we should shower together, save water. Wash each other's backs." He turned back around, heavy footsteps taking the stairs to the second floor, floorboards creaking under his boots. No one would ever be able to sneak up the stairs in this house without being heard.

One hand patted his rear end as it wiggled in front of her with each step upward, her smile warm and relaxed, far less on edge than she had been while they were on the road. "Promise not to hog all the hot water, and I promise not to splat you with my shampoo," she countered with a grin, her eyes turning to look around as they gained the upper level. "This house is incredible."

"Maybe I'll wash your hair for you," he told her, smirking as she patted his rear. He reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the guest room in question, turning back to make sure she was still following him. "Isn't that one of those Ten Things Women Really Want From Their Men" I read it in Cosmo or something." He pushed open the door to the guest room and stepped inside, dumping their bags off on the bed. "It is, isn't it' Wait 'til you see the basement."

Her smile turned into something of a smirk at the thought of him reading Cosmo. "Wow, you really will do anything to pass the time when you're bored, won't you?" she teased cheerfully, following him into the room, guiding the door to close gently behind them. "Not even I read Cosmo. Although ....I hear their sex tips sections are getting better; I'd hate for you to get bored with me." Drawing the Glock and journal from under her jacket, she stepped past him to lay them on the bedside table. "What's with the basement' Bobby got a play room you've been dying to try out or something?"

He pulled the Beretta from inside his jacket and laid it on the table opposite, followed by his wallet and keys. "Cosmo's not all that bad. There are some pretty hot chicks in those pages." And the sex tips weren't bad either, though he'd never admit that he actually read those, preferring her to think he was already an expert in that department. Once his pockets were empty, he pulled off the jacket and tossed it aside onto a chair. "There's a panic room in the basement. It's pretty amazing. He built it himself. For a long time, I didn't even know it was there."

"Isn't that the point of a panic room' You know, only for the use of the guy living in the house?" Nim chuckled softly, peeling her own jacket off her arms, tossing it on top of his. "I'm guessing this panic room is iron-lined, maybe? Set up to last out the Apocalypse?" She bent by the bed, opening up her duffle to rummage about for shampoo and soap.

He watched as she rummaged in her duffle, that familiar frown forming again. "How do you out last the Apocalypse, Nim?" The Apocalypse was the end of everything, or the start of the end of everything. "I don't understand why anyone would think the Apocalypse is a good thing." Sure, he knew some believed it was the start of a new age, a new world where good conquered evil and peace reigned, but Dean knew that was a load of crap. It was just more death and destruction in the name of God.

She closed her eyes, straightening up as a slow breath left her body. "Bad choice of words, sorry. And I don't remember saying it was a good thing, either." She shrugged lightly, tugging a towel out of the duffle as well. The wildly varying moods were back again, it seemed. It remained to be seen how Bobby and co. were going to react to the uneven keel she and Dean were sailing these days.

His frown deepened as he realized he may have struck a nerve or appeared to have snapped at her when that hadn't been his intention. "Sorry," he echoed, feeling remorseful. "I'm just..." He sighed. "It's been a long couple of days. I guess I'm a little on edge." He shoved his fingers through his hair as he sat down on the bed. Now that they had arrived and could relax, he felt utterly exhausted.

"Hey." She reached out, her fingers gently touching against his shoulder as he sat down. "You're allowed to be on edge. You're allowed to be tired and moody. I'm not exactly up to speed, either." Resting one knee on the bed, she bent down to kiss his temple. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. After that' Yeah, I'd say sleeping's definitely on the cards, coffee or no coffee."

He looked up at her as she kissed his forehead, not for the first or last time wondering what he'd done to deserve her. She'd been through hell, and he'd come close to losing her, and still, here she was, trying to soothe his worried mind. Well, that works both ways, he thought. He reached up to brush a thumb against her cheek. "I love you, you know."

"I know." Her voice was soft as she replied, her smile gentling once again. Her fingers curled about his as he caressed her cheek, turning his hand until she could brush her lips against his palm. "You still stink, though." And there was the affectionate twinkle once again.

He chuckled at her remark. Though tired and worn out and worried, she brought him right back down to Earth once again, centering him, providing a foundation. "Thanks, you're no rose yourself, you know," he returned the compliment, leaning close to brush another protective, affectionate kiss against her forehead. "Come on, princess," he turned the tables on her pet name for him. "Let's go wash each other's backs." And whatever else needed soaping up.

((Safe, at last. They've got a lot of explaining to do. :grin: As always, thanks to the princess!))