Sioux Falls didn't recognise its local heroes as well as it should. Well sure, there was Bill Winston, the farmer who grew the largest onions in the county. There was Mary Everly, who had a hero award for saving a kid from a house fire. Even the Sherriff had a fair few mention of her names on some honorary award system. Robert Singer? Well, his award would have been the only man in town to be refused entry in to Al's Liquor Barn.

Al wasn't too happy with the ban; Robert Singer was his best customer.

Robert Singer, or Bobby as he preferred, was never appreciated in Sioux Falls. Or showered with praise and gifts.

The kind of heroism he showed was unseen by the town... unseen by many people.

There were only a handful that truly appreciated Bobby for what he was worth. Who really understood Bobby not only for what he was – a damn good hunter – but for who he was.

A loyal man and a would-be great father. Well he was a father, in his mind. A father to two wayward boys who were up against the world. Bobby took them under his wing and joined the fight with them. To Bobby, this was his family. Of course, as families do, his grew with the addition of another wayward boy.

Don't tell him that though. He was convinced that he was a soldier of God.

So, Bobby and his family participated in normal family activities.

They laughed, they cried, they fought, they bickered, they protected, they separated – only to be joined again.

And, occasionally, they would save the world.

More than once.

But the residents of Sioux Falls didn't know that. Hell if you had told them that Robert Singer, town drunk and car extraordinaire, was out there with a gun and the will to fight? They would probably laugh and tell you to go have another drink.

No one ever asked Bobby where he went for weeks at a time. Most just assumed that he did have some kind of family, somewhere, that for some reason cared about him. No one ever questioned the ridiculous things that Bobby would sometimes buy.

I guess most of the people just thought all that salt was for all that tequila.

Bobby and his family were unknown for who they truly were in Sioux Falls. But-

'Cas, what are you doing?'

'Just writing.'

'Memoirs?' Asked the gruff voice sarcastically. Castiel's pen stopped moving on the paper.

'No, just research for Sam.'

'Uh huh. Don't worry, I won't tell him if it's a love note.'

Castiel rolled his eyes as Bobby walked out the room, muttering to himself and adjusting his worn hat.

Bobby Singer didn't want to be the unsung hero of Sioux Falls. He was content with his mismatched family of two brothers – one with the devil on his shoulder and the other with enough emotional torment to last a thousand lifetimes – and a fallen warrior of heaven in a trenchcoat.

Well to them, Bobby Singer was a hero. He was a father in every aspect.

Sioux Falls didn't recognise its local heroes as well as it should. But then again, Bobby Singer wouldn't have it any other way.