Hey guys! Okay, so this is my first story…I was really bummed out when Bobby died, so I haven't posted this until now. I decided to post it now because Bobby has returned! Sorry about the spoiler, I couldn't help it. So I added this scene because his death had seemed so final at the time, but they never even showed Sam and Dean burning his body. Anyway, One-shot like it said in the summary…and please read, review, and enjoy!

Jacking a body from a hospital isn't easy, but it is for Sam and Dean Winchester. After a minimal amount of attempts to distract the young and clueless nurses, (minimal because some of them just got pissed) the brothers had their surrogate Father's body out the back doors of the hospital by nightfall.

Bobby Singer, ass kicker of the supernatural, lay dead on the worn down gurney in a South Dakota hospital alley. Sam and Dean rolled the fallen hero around to their stolen van, preparing to fit the gurney into the confined car space.

Bobby's body began to pale, which Dean was the first to notice. But he didn't comment. He just went through the motions in silence. Silence, but a look of anger and horror rolled into one was clearly painted across the man's features. As Dean took a moment to try and calm himself, mask his emotions, he winced at the pain in his right hand. The knuckles, battered and bruised, had continued to cause an annoyance from lack of care. But Dean ignored this injury, treating it like a pin-prick as he slammed the van door and slid into the front seat. Turning the keys into the ignition, he stopped abruptly. 'Bobby's dead…' continued to echo through his mind like a broken record. The car stayed idle, keys in ignition, making it seem to be the only sound heard for miles. Dean kept the thought to himself, but stayed as frozen as a statue in the driver's seat.

"Dean?" Sam began to try and find the key to Dean's mind like he always did, but all was lost. So he added, "If we need to…talk, I'm here. Okay?" Defeated, Sam laid this attempt of 'solace' out on the table, but Dean never faced him directly.

"Dean, I'm just saying…" Sam didn't dare to continue his sentence, for he saw his brother's hands clench into fists and his defeated posture become rigid with anger. The younger brother immediately turned forward in the passenger seat as the old van silently rolled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Dean began to sink into a state of depression that seemed to worsen the longer he drove. He thought back to all the family and friends he lost throughout his life. 'Screw it. They're all family to me.' So many people were gone because of his existence alone that it almost makes him laugh silently to himself. Or maybe it would be better described as a short, depressing sigh that echoed through the car. 'Oh, great. Sammy's gonna be suspicious,' Dean mused. Sure enough, a puppy-dog look was immediately tossed Dean's way. 'God damn-it. Every time!' Of course it would be him. Dean Winchester of all people, who lost so much but was still expected to be sane. Because that was how the world worked. In Dean's eyes, the world was out to get him. And Bobby's death was just another way of saying, "Screw you. I hope you suffer." Which is EXACTLY what Dean did.

After over a half hour of driving, constant Sammy stares and consistent tapping coming from God-knows-where in the piece-of-crap called a vehicle, the van made it evident that the ground below had switched from asphalt to dirt…meaning Dean had finally reached the Singer Salvage Yard. This was the brothers' first return to the place since Cas disappeared into the water supply. Since Dean broke his leg. Since Bobby's house burned down. Since both men had thought they killed a Leviathan. A lot of things had happened since the boys had returned to this familiar place in their own little corner of the world. A place that had once offered so much hope, which was something Sam and Dean rarely had. But now, all that was left was the burnt remains of an old house, and an untouched salvage yard.

The brothers were out of the van upon moments of arriving. Both began to gather sticks and twigs to pile up in the middle of the lot. (Which was admittedly hard to do since the temperature began to dip below ten degrees) But nonetheless, the boys continued carrying large branches back and forth for over an hour, fingers and lips blue with the cold in the end. Sam and Dean had finally created a large mound of flammable wood long enough to fit a body on top. Bobby's body…

"You ready?" Sam asked quietly.

"Mhmm," Dean confirmed. Sam took a mental note that this was the only sound Dean had uttered since Bobby's death. But he understood his brother in ways only he could. So he understood that there was more than Bobby that Dean was upset by. And don't get him wrong, Sam was upset by the sudden death of the old hunter as well, but dealt with it better. All the pain and anger seemed to be stored in the back of his mind, as if it was in some file. Right now, brotherly roles had been switched and Sam had to be brave for Dean. When in truth, the pain also ate away at Sam from the inside.

Dean lifted the now stark white corpse onto the man-made funeral pyre with little effort. The only pain once again coming from his hand that stung under any weight. This pain was still the last thing on Dean's mind as he let the silence reign down on the salvage yard. Dean then stepped forward with his hands directly at his sides.

"Damn-it Bobby," Dean began with the most sincerity in his voice since Sam had been stabbed so long ago. "We a…we never really said thanks for everything you did for us. And umm…we love you. Now, I'm not gonna get all 'chick flick moment' on ya, cause you'd probably call me an idgit. But that's okay. Bottom line, we miss you. A lot. And we hope that you're in some perfect heaven drinking booze out of a coconut," Dean finished his goodbye light-heartedly. His tears already threatening to spill over… "Sammy? Wanna say somethin'?" Dean added in realization, turning to his brother and taking a measurable step back.

"Uhh. Ya," Sam stuttered as he took an awkward step closer to the pyre. "Bobby, you were…you were like a Father to me since I was a kid. And honestly, I wouldn't be who I am today without you. I am pretty proud to call you family. And a…Dean and I will never forget ya. We love you," Sam ended. He glanced down at his feet as he felt Dean's presence beside him.

"Well, alright. Let's…get this over with." Dean bent down to the duffel bag suddenly beside him, grabbing a carton of salt and handing Sam the case of lighter fluid. Dean stared at the contents he now held in his hand with more concentration than normal. This wasn't just anyone's body…This was Bobby.

Sam waited for Dean to wrap Bobby's body in white gauze. Several minutes later, Sam began to saturate the material that now covered the old hunter. Then, as usual, salt was added, and a cheap lighter was flipped and thrown in the mix. And now they stepped back…

The brothers watched in silence as the flame slowly licked its way up the wood and onto the covered body. Smoke began to rise into the night sky as heat met gauze, the gray clouds daring to suffocate each and every living thing it touched. The fire grew to an enormous size, casting an orange glow against both men's features and making their haggard appearances more defined. Heat began to takes its toll…slowly but surely. And the brothers no longer felt as cold on both the inside and the out. Bobby was finally at peace.

"Let's go," Dean demanded suddenly. The hunter quickly turned around, hands in his pockets, and began the walk back to the van. Sam took one last look at their surrogate Father, then at the pyre before also heading in the direction of his older brother.

'You're a hero, Bobby. Remember that,' Sam thought to himself.