Assassin (A Crobby Fanfic)

Chapter 3

Bobby woke with a splitting headache. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, confused and dazed. When his focus returned to replace the blurriness, Bobby found a pill, a glass of water, and a little note. He squinted at the overly fancy handwriting.

"Dearest Robert,

Assuming from the amount of alcohol you consumed, along with your little emotional confessions, you'll be needing this pill. It's not poison, you paranoid drunk. It's a painkiller for your headache. I wouldn't mind keeping you around for a little while longer.

-C

P.S. Jody is still alive, but my offer still stands."

The sniper huffed and eyed the pill skeptically before finally deciding to swallow it, easing its pass with water. He pushed himself off the couch, worn leather groaning in protest, and rubbed his throbbing head. A bleary memory reminded Bobby of drinking last night. When he tried to dig deeper into his conversations, their words distorted and became nonexistent until he couldn't decide if the words he remembered is what he really said or an inaccurate substitute his brain conjured to cover the holes.

A rumble and ringing made Bobby start. He turned to glare at his phone. With a sigh, he picked it up and brought it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Bobby? Is that you?"

Bobby was suddenly awake when he heard her voice. "Ellen? How did you get this number? Why are you calling me?"

"Doesn't matter. Bobby, this is urgent. I know you want nothing to do with us, but you have to come to the meeting station. Please."

"Ellen, what's going on?"

There was a shift, some static, then a new voice. "Bobby?"

"Dean."

"Listen, this is big. I want all hands on deck for this one, even retired ones. At least come to hear out what's going on. The usual place, Bobby. You know where to find us."

Before the assassin could reply, the phone clicked off. Dean had hung up. Bobby stared at his phone, feeling the nauseating pressure of leadership edging back. The vague thought of Ellen scolding Dean for taking her phone made Bobby ease up somewhat, but that didn't prevent a pit from forming in his stomach. He always trusted his gut. And this time, his gut was telling him that something ain't right.

A weak breeze blundered over twigs as Bobby wandered through an abandoned subway station, leading him underground. He ignored the caution sign plastered on the wall and walked through the dark tunnel until he came upon an electric lamplight. A small group of people were gathered near it. He recognized some of them.

"Bobby!"

The sniper was suddenly trapped in a hug by a very tall man. He grunted. "Sam! Let me go, ya idjit. You're crushing me!"

He did as he was told, muttering a quick apology with a sheepish smile.

"Glad you could make it," Dean said, giving Bobby a less harmful hug.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad to see you alive as well, kiddo." Bobby looked over the group, identifying Ellen and Garth as the only other two he recognized, before settling his attention over a marked map pinned to the wall by tape. "What's that?"

"The reason you were called here," Ellen said.

"Bobby, this is Castiel," Dean suddenly said, drawing the sniper's attention to a messy haired man in a dirty trench coat. "This is Charlie." He gestured to a ginger girl sporting an AK-47. "And Kevin." The last man looked more of an Asian college boy than a mafia member, acknowledged only by the nod of Dean's head.

"Didn't there used to be more of us?" Bobby asked.

"There are. We're just gathering a small inner circle of the best to discuss something," Sam answered.

"Let's get straight to the point," Dean announced, walking over to the map. "As you all know, Heaven's Army is at war with the King of Hell."

"Poetic," Bobby grumbled sarcastically.

"Recently, we've gotten news of Bobby's failed attempt at assassinating the mafia leader," Castiel stepped in, taking charge as if he were all the authority. "Supposedly, it'll be his last kill. Perhaps that will remain true. The King of Hell is sly, like the demons that would be under his namesake. But we have a plan."

"He likes to split up his 'territories', or places under his influence, into chunks." Sam made hand movements over the map as he spoke. "Each chunk is managed by a close ally who reports to him."

"How did you get all that?" Bobby asked, narrowing his eyes.

They ignored him.

"So why are we telling you this?" Dean voiced. "Well, we're all going to split up and take a chunk. As far as we know, Crowley has split his areas of control into four. Thanks to a reliable source, we found that the allies managing the chunks are called Meg, Lilith, Ruby, and Guthrie."

"Now, under these four, there are obviously going to be henchman," Castiel said. "Crowley has tight security, but if we squeeze through and destroy the four, we can take Crowley's areas and strip him of his throne."

"Hold on a damn minute!" Bobby shouted. "You called me here to be a soldier for your war?"

"You're one of the best of the best," Dean said. "You're valuable."

"Boy, I didn't take you in so you could judge a person's worth by how much they're valued!"

"No, you took me and Sam in so we could kill for you," Dean replied coldly. "And when you had enough of this life, you abandoned us."

Bobby shook his head. "I had enough of this life the moment I killed my first target. I left you because I knew you couldn't leave. Kids raised in the mafia stay in the mafia whether they want to or not."

"How would you know?" Dean snarled in anger.

"Because Jo and Garth tried!" Bobby yelled back.

Everyone tensed. Garth's frown deepened as he looked away, eyes shining with tears he refused to let fall.

"That's enough," Ellen said, voice trembling between solemnity and grief.

Jo, Ellen's daughter, and Garth were teenagers when they decided to try and runaway from the mafia's lifestyle. Another group heard of them and took them as hostages. Garth survived, but Jo sacrificed herself so the others could get away. If it weren't for Bobby, Ellen would've died alongside Jo.

"Look, the point is: you used to be this mafia's leader," Dean said.

"No. I used to be the Hunters' leader. This isn't the Hunters anymore."

"But Bobby." Sam's eyes softened. "We're still family."

The sniper huffed. "Garth, Ellen, you, and Dean are my family. I don't know about everyone else. Now, if you're done talking, I'd like to go back home." He began walking back.

"Wait," Dean called.

Bobby stopped but didn't turn.

"This is your last gank, isn't it? Before you cut yourself off from any more kills, you're gonna take one last target down, right?"

"Where're you going with this?" Bobby asked.

"Help us," Dean said, a pleading tone just barely grating his voice. "Help us take the King of Hell down. Then you can rest easy for the rest of your days, sipping coconut or whatever the hell you want to do."

Bobby sighed. "If I help you this one last time, will you leave me alone for the rest of my life? Swear to never call on me again for another godforsaken job?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other before the older Winchester nodded reluctantly.

"Fine."