SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
You were warned.
Looks like my wish for a living Bobby didn't come true. This is for him.
To the man who was a second father to them. A man who was always there in his own way. The man who offered advice, comfort, help, knowledge, his own form of wisdom, sarcasm, weapons and beer. For a man who gave two boys the best thing they ever had to a home.
To a man even though wounded and wanted to quit didn't because he had something to live for. To a man who seemed like he'd lost everything had everything he'd ever need. Paranoid with a slight scent of whiskey and a funny tasting beer he was there.
To a man who was a hero in his own right though most will never know it but to the ones who did know him and cared about him he will always be a hero in their eyes. He will always be offering whatever help he can even if over a phone or calling you an idjit.
From the same old vest, flannel shirt and jeans and the hat that never seemed to leave his head he was there and he was remarkable in his own right.
To one of the greatest hunters to ever grace America. For giving two boys a home and seeing that they became men for treating them like they were your own even though you had to have wondered what possessed you.
You didn't have to. You saw two pairs of green eyes a set of dimples and freckles and couldn't help but care about them. Couldn't help but want to give them a place to call home and offer advice and help when it was asked for fighting your own demons to help just one last time.
Bobby Singer you kicked ass for doing so you will never be forgotten.
p.s. Robert Singer is still alive and kicking but our dear idjit calling Bobby is in the afterlife.
