Staying at Bobby's was one thing, having to spend all day in his tip of a scrap yard was another. Ever since John Winchester passed, you, dean and sam have been staying at bobby's. Sam was dealing with the death in his own way, calm and collected. and dean, well, dean was being an asshole. You were sat on an old plastic garden chair, fiddling with a wrench as dean lay a few feet away from you under the messed up impala. It was nice and silent, before dean let out a groan of annoyance.