Another fic that's been sitting on my computer that i forgot about. spoilers for season 7. Please review!

disclaimer: I don't own leverage or supernatural.

"Give a girl your number?" Hardison joked when he noticed Eliot checking his phone for the fifth time in the past hour. He'd been checking it all day too, as they finished up the con, did clean up, had team dinner, and watched a football game.

"No." Eliot growled as he stomped off, snapping his phone shut.

'Must be one of his burners.' Hardison thought, knowing that he only supplied the team with high tech smart phones.

Eliot sat at the bar and stared at his phone. He knew he had to call but his gut was telling him he already knew why Bobby hadn't called in yet.

He sighed and picked up the phone. It rang three times before some kid answered.

"Singer Salvage Yard. Garth speaking. Who is this?"

"I need to talk to Bobby." Eliot said cutting to chase.

"You need to – you didn't, hang on." Eliot knew, he knew what this kid was going to tell him, could feel it in the clench of his stomach and the ache in the back of his head. But he stayed on the phone as the kid talked to someone else, hand over the receiver.

"What's your name?" Another voice, this one familiar.

"It's Spencer. Put Singer on." He demanded, refusing to believe what every instinct told him was true.

"Eliot, Its Dean. Listen, I've got some bad news. Bobby died. About 3 months ago."

Eliot closed his eyes, shutting out the dark bar and dining room behind him.

"You still there?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yeah. How'd it happen?"

"Leviathan."

"Never heard of those." Eliot said, confused. He wasn't a hunter but he kept an ear to the ground.

"They're gone now, don't need to worry about it."

Eliot nodded, knowing the other man couldn't see it.

"Garth is taking over Singer Salvage, running things from here. If you need anything, he can help." Dean vouched.

"Yeah, I'll keep the number."

"Did you need any information now?"

"No. Bobby and I kept in touch. I hadn't heard from him in a few months and he hadn't answered my last few calls."

"I'm sorry man."

"yeah. Me too. He was a good man."

"I gotta go, we got a job. I'll talk to you soon though."

"You'd better Winchester."

"I thought you left hours ago." Nate said as he walked out into the bar.

"Nah, been drinkin."

"For, " Nate checked his watch, "three hours? I thought that was my thing."

"Found out a friend died. Only proper way to mourn this man is with a bottle of Jack." Eliot said raising said bottle. It was more than half empty.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Eliot's response was to pull out another shot glass and scoot out the seat next to him.

"Bobby was a grouchy, stubborn, old bastard. If you needed to know anything about anything, he knew it or could find it. Dead good mechanic too."

"Sounds like you knew him pretty well."

"Saved my ass a few times, saved a lot of people's asses." Eliot downed another shot.

"When's the funeral?"

"Isn't one. Or I missed it. Happened a few months ago, word is still getting round though. Knowing Sam and Dean they gave him a proper hunter's funeral."

"Hunter's funeral?"

Eliot watched Nate in the mirror across from them and wondered just how much the man knew about what really went on in their world. Then again, if he knew about all the things that went bump in the night, he'd probably have made a crossroads deal to save Sam.

"Yeah, he was a hunter, damn good one too."

Nate let it slide, knowing he was probably missing something.

"How'd you meet him?" He didn't expect the quick laugh that escaped Eliot's lips.

"He stopped me from tearin' up his local bar."

Th-th-that's all folks! Please review!