Author's Note: I went to the doctor's and it's official: I have lost my mind. And no- there is no cure.


Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. If it did... well. I don't think it would have survived as long as it has...


It was two in the morning when Bobby Singer was rudely pulled out of a pleasant dream (involving Catwoman and a large ball of yarn) by the shrill ring of his bedside phone.

Who in the blazes would be calling me at this time o' the morning? He thought irritably, before he realized it could be one of the boys. Sitting up in bed and wiping the sleep out of his eyes, Bobby then reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.

Squinting at the Caller ID, Bobby read You Know Who.

Who? What the hell? Bobby just shook his head and answered the phone.

"Hello?" he said, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Do you have the boy?" the voice on the other side replied, sounding impatient. The speaker's voice was low, icy and sounded more like a hiss than actual words. "If you don't, you know I will be displeased, Wormtail."

Bobby blinked, startled.

"Er?" He said intelligently.

There was a pause.

"Who is this?" the voice on the other side of the phone demanded. Bobby frowned.

"This is Bobby. Who is this?"

"Bobby? What the (censored)! I thought this was Wormtail's number."

Bobby ran a hand over his face.

"Well, this ain't him. Who are you?" he growled, getting impatient. He really wanted to get back to sleep and play with Catwoman.

"I'm Voldemort. And if you know what's best for you, you will treat me with respect, Muggle."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Is that so?" He asked, scratching lazily at his stubble.

"Yes. I am a harbringer of doom. I kill little children's parents and the entire Wizarding world trembles before me. There are many things I can do that can cause your heart to stop from fear alone." Voldemort said, his voice full of venom and loathing.

Bobby yawned.

"But... I take it being able to dial the right number ain't one of 'em?" He inquired bluntly.

There was another pause.

"There... is that," Voldemort conceeded.

More silence.

"Can I hang up now?" Bobby said after awhile.

Voldemort sighed.

"Indeed. However, if you should get a hold of Wormtail, or if he ends up calling you, can you please let him know that I want to speak to him? We have plans to discuss about Potter."

Bobby grunted.

"Sure thing. Wormtail, pottery, and making sure he calls you. Got it."

"Pottery? Wait, no, I mean-"

Whatever Voldemort meant was never explained further because Bobby hung up and went back to sleep...

... where he dreamed happily ever after.

With Catwoman.


END.


NOTE: I should be banished from ever writing something like this again.