Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a wood chopper and his name was Robert Singer, Bobby to those who know him. He was a quiet man, he kept to himself and stayed on the borders of his land, only ever venturing into the nearest village for supplies. However he had many friends from far and wide, from beyond the borders of the Woods Hedge, to the great city of Oakapple which lies right in the centre of Thrador. The most magnificent land of them all.
Bobby wasn't really concerned about outside affairs though, his world revolved around felling the trees that engulfed him, and then chopping them a bit more. His friends who stopped by once in a while would always bring him news from the borders, as he often avoided going out there himself, preferring the warmth of his cosy small cottage to the chill of winters gaze that was forever on the borders.
His somewhat glum expression was well known to the people of the Ashen Dragons, a place well known for the dark forest that spawned such large trees, children would often run up to his cottage and spy on him through the small gap in the hedge, he merely ignored their ghostly giggles. A thing people might not have known, was that Bobby liked it when the children pestered him, asking for some of his prize winning tomatoes, their older brothers and sisters smiling softly at him in a way that he wished his own children would smile at him. If only he had any. But his wife had been taken to the Great City of Oakapple, and she was never heard from again, he could only assume that she was happy. Yet, that had happened such a long time ago, and so now he merely acted like a sweet, uncle like figure, and so despite his rough exterior it wasn't that hard to reach and touch his inner soul, especially if one was a child asking for a basket of carrots.
Bobby had figured that the reason his crops grew so well was the fact that he lived so close to the forest, that sometimes late at night, when the moon had reached its highest point in the sky, reached out to him, wanting to drag him in with its swaying branches and whispered secrets. However there was something about Bobby Singer that was not so normal, that wasn't natural, if you were ever to find yourself in his cosy home you would see things that a normal woodsman would not have in his possession, or rather would not even know about.
Books, Books of Magic. Of Spells and books of ways to ward against dark things. Now, he wasn't a wizard, nor a witch or any other horrid thing you may think, he was just Bobby Singer, the lonely wood chopper and the part time gardener. Except he was also a researcher, that was the reason behind his many friends from foreign lands, and all the exotic things he had laid about the garden.
This brings us to where this story begins, and how on a cold night, Bobby Singer ended up having two children thrust into his arms, their father leaving without so much as a goodbye.
Bobby was spending the cold winter nights like he would any other year, holed up in his house, watching the flames flicker in their own respective light, before he would occasionally glance back at the window out into the snow and the dark night. He wasn't a big fan of snow, he never had been, it was cold and wet and he really didn't see the appeal of it, in fact he only liked it when it was gone.
There was a knock on the door which startled our studious hero from his sleepy mind, Bobby was however immediately suspicious, no one travelled during these harsh winter months, you could freeze to death in the icy grip of the wind. He stood slowly, adjusting himself to look half decent due to his chequered shirt having become scruffy and unkempt in his general weariness of the constant snow, he certainly hadn't expected guests so late in the night. However his general thought seemed to be 'what the heck does it even matter if I look scruffy, no one's goin' to see me...', he hated being wrong.
He made his way carefully to the front door, making sure he had all his combat weapons on hand just in case it turned out to be a vengeful witch as once had been the case. But when he pulled the locks off their latches and gradually pulled the cold door open, he found himself at a loss.
"Hello again Bobby."
John Winchester stood opposite him, and then from behind Johns imposing figure two small heads poked out, children. What the hell were children doing out on a night like this?
"You going to stand there all night?" He said in a gruff voice, stepping to one side of the door, allowing the man and the two children entry, whereas John swept past him the children walked past him slowly as if they were sleep walking. Yet the elder of the two had a firm grip on the younger boy, a defiant look in his piercing eyes, the look of a protector, a soldier. Bobby couldn't help but feel for the kid.
He closed the door swiftly behind them and blocked the cold out, he then took one quick glance at the trio, all looked a little pathetic, even John. "The fire's just through that door there." Bobby sighed, waving his hand at the door to the sitting room, he decided that they should at least warm themselves up before they talked business. The children both scrambled towards the room, and Bobby watched with a growing fear in his chest, it was a few moments before he turned back to John. The man in question stood leaning against the wall, his gaze heavy and Bobby gathered that something must have happened, something really bad.
"Are they your boys?" Bobby asked, folding his arms against his chest, his instincts told him to be wary of this man and all the aura that he had dragged into the cottage. John nodded a little, before answering in a low tone, one that the boys wouldn't hear.
"I need your help Bobby. I need you to..." John paused, wriggling his fingers a little in the black woolly gloves he wore, the actions told Bobby of his uncertainty, but more so it showed the man beneath the dark cloak, the man that trembled.
"I gathered that lad. What do you need me to do?" Bobby merely sounded weary, it was his analysis of the man that made his eyelids droop a little, his body groaning a little under the strain of sleepiness.
"Bobby they took her! The Wolf and his servants, they took Mary. I...I didn't know what to do, so I brought them here," he nodded towards the children in the other room, the smaller child having taken up residence in the elders arms, "it's not safe for them. The Wicked Witch is coming back, she is returning and there's nothing we can do to stop her." Johns entire face changed into something akin to heartbreak, it seemed to be a good look on him, until he turned a little and pointed his finger at the small child. "They want Sam...they won't stop until they have Sam too."
Bobby watched the Winchester for a moment or so, trying to comprehend what John was telling him, the Wicked Witch couldn't come back, she had been destroyed, forever locked away within a mirror, a mirror that should have been smashed and melted. The boy, Sammy looked so innocent as he slept in his brothers arms, snuggling against his chest, one hand clenching the fabric of the elders jacket.
But then he realised what John was getting to.
"You're leaving them here aren't you? You're leaving behind your own children to search for your wife? Damn it John! They are children! They need their father!"
"And they'll have one. You." Bobby shook his head at John, he was mad, he couldn't leave his children here and chase after the ghost of his wife, for all they knew she was probably already dead, sacrificed to the Wicked Witch, Bobby assumed, either that or...no he wasn't going to think of the alternative reasoning behind them taking Mary.
"Besides, Dean can take care of Sam." Bobby could only stare at him, dumbstruck by the utter lack of care this man obviously possessed.
"They are your children." He repeated, his own words feeling slightly hollow though as he watched John shuffle a little, as if uncomfortable. Good.
"I have to go, I have an idea where they took her, so I'm heading there first. I can't thank you enough Bobby really," he said quietly, walking past Bobby towards the front door again, was the man not even going to stay for a glass of whiskey? "I'll come back as soon as I can." He paused as he pulled the door open a little, glancing back at Bobby, a stern look on his face once again, "Tell Dean he has to protect Sam." and then he was gone. Disappeared into the white swirl of the snow, the door shut quietly as if it knew of the children in the next room quietly dreaming of adventures and being happy.
Those were the last words John said.
Bobby leant against the hall wall, breathing deeply, a hand pinching the top of his nose, he was too old to deal with this crap. Yet he did anyway, oh what a fabulous citizen.
A few minutes later and he had gotten two of the warmest blankets he had, and a few pillows, he stopped at the doorway momentarily, watching the two boys sleep, Deans arms were firmly surrounding his brother, and Sam was still clenching the fabric in his tiny fist. It was a sweet sight, Bobby wished he didn't have to tell them that their father had just abandoned them.
It was when he moved into the sitting room and began to lay the blankets and pillows down for the boys that Dean woke up, startling himself it seemed for falling asleep in the first place. Bobby watched him from the corner of his eye warily, the poor boy looked confused, and Bobby realised that Dean was searching for his pa.
"Wh-Where's dad?" The question came finally after a few moments of Dean rubbing his eyes to fight the sleepiness from consuming him once again, but it was just so warm in the room.
"He's gone to look for your mum." Bobby replied, his voice thankfully not betraying the emotions he was currently feeling, but Deans face said it all. The kids face changed in an instant, and Dean looked utterly distraught, Bobby wasn't sure he liked that look on him, it made the boy look older and far more weary than a kid his age should look. He easily manoeuvred Sam's small body onto the nest of blankets and pillows Bobby had just created, shaking his head a little, the boy looked like he was about to start crying.
"Dad said he would take me and Sammy along though! He told me that this time he wouldn't leave us behind!" His voice cried defiance and denial, but Bobby was more than pissed at the mention of 'this time', just how many times had that blasted Winchester left these two boys to fend for themselves? Bobby said nothing though, merely pulled the blankets up to cover Sam, who snuggled a little but did nothing more then lay there, dreaming of innocent and naïve things Bobby was sure, he didn't want the kid growing up in a world that felt at war. The good versus the evil.
What a silly notion.
"We'll talk about it in the morning." He spoke softly to the boy despite the natural gruffness of his voice, and Dean seemed to calm a little, crawling up to lay besides Sam, Bobby watched the young boys fingers tremble as they clenched the pillow. Yet he said nothing, and rose up from the floor in a somewhat less than graceful manner, he was moving out of the room though when he heard a small voice, different to Deans.
"I'm Sam..." It was such a small childlike voice that it made Bobby's heart sting a little, and he listened to an intake of air before the voice said "goodnight Mr Singer...".
Bobby turned around then, to look at the nest of blankets and the two children curled up in the middle, "Call me Bobby.", and then he left the room, searching for his own innocent and naïve dreams that he once again longed to have.