The Sins of Bobby Singer
SPNFanFic 2016
Dawn Gray
I don't own the rights to Bobby, Mary, the boys or anything else to Supernatural.
He was there, those big green eyes staring at me, begging me not to go. I wish I could have told him, I wish I had that chance now to really tell Dean Winchester the best story of my life, but there wasn't time. Death was coming soon. Death was at the door and I didn't have enough time to confess all the sins of Bobby Singer.
There was a reason I went straight to hell, and it wasn't because of the little deal I had made with Crowley to save the world. It was because of something I had done long before then, and Crowley knew it. Yeah, the "deal" was to save the boys that had become like my sons, and I was damned proud of them but if they knew the secret that I carried to the grave with me, well I'm not sure what kind of reaction I would get.
My father was abusive when I was younger, and I found myself constantly protecting my mother from the bastard. Not that I wouldn't do it again, but it was a time I'd like to forget. By the time I got away I was able to buy the Salvage Yard, get my business going. That abusive bastard is buried back there, I think I might have even put a stack of cars on him, just to make sure he stayed dead.
I met Mary Campbell way back in the day, at that point she was hunting with her father, Samuel and still dating some kid named John, but we were young I know that, but I didn't know what her family did, just that they were passing through. That was way back in 1969.
We got married about the same time, Mary and me, not to each other of course, but it was a few months off. I married Karen, God rest her soul and she had married that kid, John, becoming a Winchester, a name that might haunt me longer than I can haunt those boys of hers.
Life was good then, in the early part of the 70's, until her father died in 73', she told me he had a heart attack, that much I believed, but the underlying cause was much worse.
I never believed in the bad things, the ghosts, the demons that hid in the shadows. Not until Karen was possessed. I wish I knew then what I do now. I knew nothing of an exorcism, nothing about a Devil's trap or a way out, not until much later, not until it was too late. Karen was dead, by my hand no less, by 1977. One more of my sins.
After Karen died, I decided that I was going to find out everything I knew about the Supernatural. I read everything I could get my hands on, found out every kind of lore I could and became the thing the sons-a-bitches hated the most, a hunter. I was damned good at it too, even found some others along the way to do it. That was how I reconnected with the Campbells, and Mary Winchester.
I was headed toward Norman, Oklahoma in May of 1978. Wasn't much of a hunt, some vengeful ghost trying hard not to move on and stirring up the place with a local family. I figured it was a one man deal so I went in alone. Never needed back up before so I didn't think anything of it now. Wasn't need to, until I spotted that car pulling into the same motel I was crashing in. A beautiful black 1967 Impala, put my 71' Chevelle to shame, but the person driving it was even more beautiful than the car.
She stepped out, just as I moved from my room and locked eyes on me. She hadn't changed that much since the last time I saw her, just gotten a little bit older. Almost a decade and I could still hear her voice in my head from the first time we spoke.
Mary looked over at me, gave me a curious look and that knowing smile, and Holy Hell, she was walking over. I hadn't seen anything more beautiful since Karen passed and when she stopped right in front of me, my heart nearly gave out.
"Mary Campbell?" I questioned, stupidly, like I had actually drank that entire bottle of hunter's courage that was tucked in my bag.
"Bobby Singer!" She smiled and wrapped her petite arms around me. I hugged her back of course, still stunned that she was standing there but when she backed away, her face went sad. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife, I wish we could have come sooner."
"It's in the past." But it wasn't because I hadn't let it go. "Heard you got married."
"Yeah, I promised him I would stop hunting, but here I am."
"It's in your blood." I reassured her and glanced over at her bag. "You on a hunt?"
"Yeah, vengeful spirit, you?"
"Actually I think we might be on the same one." I smiled and watched as her cheeks lit up. "Not usually a partner person, but do you want to pair up, I'm sure we could get this done a lot faster."
"I'd love to," she was more than happy to share the weight, which was okay with me because I was happy for the company.
We spent the afternoon comparing notes and looking into the history and connections of the house to the spirit that terrorized the family and the only thing we came up with was a murder that happened thirty years before.
Sitting outside the property in the Impala, my eyes trained on the house, I could feel her shifting in the seat next to me, and I turned in her direction.
"So the basement is the most likely place for the remains to be." She said softly, her face buried in the blue-prints. She looked up at me, catching my eye as she handed the paper over, pointing out the "root cellar" of the old place. "From the information my father got, no one ever goes back there, and it's been sealed off for years."
"Seems too easy." I shook my head, of course it always seemed too easy, but it never was easy.
We had to wait until the family left to break in through the back door. Wasn't much we knew about the family, but we did know that salt traps a ghost and iron gives it one bad headache but you had to salt and burn the remains in order to make that nasty thing disappear.
The root cellar was tucked in a dark corner, covered by a shabby brick wall that looked as if it was being held up by its last bit of mortar. Mary kept watch as I moved in with a sledge hammer that I found close to the scene. It only took one swing, one knock against the rocks to let that thing know we were there.
Before I could swipe a second time, I heard Mary's breath catch and I turned to look back. She flew up from the floor as if she were tossed by an unseen force and I watched in horror as she came to rest against a pile of boxes.
I took the crowbar that sat at my feet, one that I had carried in with me and swung at the apparition that appeared before me. An old nasty man with peeling skin and some God-awful suit that looked like it was about to fall off him anyway. It disappeared just as quickly as it appeared but I knew the fight wasn't over yet.
More concerned about Mary, I moved away from the wall and helped her to her feet, she was bleeding from wounds on her arms and face but otherwise she seemed okay. Once steady I went back to my job, getting that wall down.
I swung twice, nearly got completely through the rubble before I felt the cold draft on the back of my neck, the icy hands on my shoulders. I was nearly there when I was thrown clear across the room into the hard wall of the cellar. My head spun, having collided with the brick, but it was the yells of Mary that brought me out of it. I could hear her fighting, choking, kicking and screaming in pain as I shook the fog from my head.
When I got to my feet I could see her leaning against the support beam, the side of her head covered in blood and it looked as if she were out cold, but a little movement and a slight groan had me up on my feet in a heartbeat.
She was alive and that thing needed to be dead and gone. It had hung around long enough. I moved quickly across the room, circled Mary with a line of salt and went to work on the rest of the wall.
Finally through, the smell of death rose in the air, not as bad as opening a coffee that was six-feet under for years but definitely something that left a bad taste in your mouth. I grabbed the bag, emptied a bucket load of salt on the putrid remains of this old bastard and sprayed it down with a heavy dose of lighter fluid. I could feel it coming closer, feel it's fingers around my neck as it began to squeeze the light out of my eyes.
I tried to grab at it, hoping that there was something solid enough to do so but there was nothing but air. I went for my lighter, but my pockets were empty. I could feel the room fading, the ugly darkness of death creeping up but then I felt it release and the smell of burning rotting flesh filled my nose.
I fell to the floor, gasping for air and backed away from the scorching body before turning to look at Mary, whose droopy eyes smiled at me. She had figured out how to light a book of matches and toss it in with no problem. Had to be the Campbell training coming through. The house was in no danger of catching fire, since the root cellar was completely encased in brick, so I gathered the bag, and lifted Mary up into my arms before escaping through the hatch.
The motel bed was lumpy, but I was pretty sure that Mary didn't care. She needed medical attention but there was no way she was going to a hospital, in fact she threatened to shoot me if I even drove in that direction. SO, personal doctor it was.
She was lying on the bed, her shirt on the floor, her bra holding in only so much as I tried to stitch up the gash on her shoulder blade the best I could without bringing too much attention to how much I was enjoying myself. She sat quietly for a few moment, not even flinching at the feeling of the needles, or my rough hands going over her skin, but when I sighed and sat back, she turned her eyes to me.
I hung my head in shame, thinking about a married woman that way but she just smiled and reached out, caressing my stubble-covered cheek gently. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as she touched me. What was this, some kind of after hunt aphrodisiac? All I wanted was her, and all she wanted, apparently was me.
It didn't take long for things to get pretty hot and heavy, I guess coming so close to death would do that to a person. She kissed me hard and rough and I kissed back, seemed to go on forever before we found ourselves naked, sweaty and completely spent. I know I stared up at the ceiling for what felt like forever, my arms wrapped around her, with her head on my chest. But it was wonderful, fast, furious, full of desperation to know that we were alive but wonderful at the same time.
The next morning, when I finally woke up, I found my bed empty, along with my motel room. Feeling like the ditchable prom date, I sat there and pitied myself for a while before I noticed the note stuck under the door.
Getting dressed to head back home, I finally unfolded it and shook my head. It was pretty simple.
Bobby,
You can't imagine what last night meant to me. We'll see each other again.
Mary W.
And that was it. Truthfully, I never did see her again, but could you imagine my disbelief when I heard that she had a little boy in January of 1979. A boy nine months later. I never said anything of it, never thought that I had a right, never even questioned the timing, but she died before I could really get the courage up to finally see just what had gone on.
She died in a house fire in 1983, six months after the birth of Sam, at the hands of a demon. I was floored, but there was nothing that I could do, not until 1991 when a man named John Winchester blew through town with two young sons. He stopped at the Salvage Yard, looking for parts to the Impala and seeking help in the case, but it was my interest in the oldest boy that had me hooked from the beginning.
I swear I hid every picture of me as a kid from that idjit, just to make sure that he didn't see what I was seeing. John had lost his wife, there was no way I was going to even bring up the fact that I could look right into Dean's green eyes and see myself as a boy. I swear that man was just like my father at times. We weren't on good terms, not from the go but there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for those two boys.
Through the years, they became the men I hoped they would be. Dean became the man I wanted him to be. Heroes, the both of them. When John died, I adopted them both, and I was damned proud of it. They had saved the world, and almost ended it several times but there was nothing that could keep the two of them apart.
I wanted to tell him, every time they walked out the door to fight the good fight, or whatever the hell we were fighting, but I didn't say a thing. I watched them die for each other, and come back for each other. I watched as they grew together, and grew apart, and then found their way home.
I did the only thing I could do for my boy, I could keep the secret. I could be the father he needed, not the one he wanted, not the one that helped bring him into the world. No, I could just be the biological one in my head, but I could be the man they needed me to be, their father. HIS father, until my dying breath.
And here we were, or I was, lying in the hospital bed, waiting on Death to take me, staring up into those big green eyes which were begging me not to go, wishing I could tell him, tell MY SON that I was his father, and I would always be.
The world around me started to grow dark, this wasn't the end. This wasn't the last time I was going to see my boys. Nothing in this life stayed dead, not even me, and between a Heaven and Hell, I knew I would see them again.
Yeah, I didn't go to hell because I sold my soul, I went to Hell because I loved Mary and I helped bring Dean Winchester into this world.
God help it!