The Chronicle He Keeps
Don't own 'em, just love 'em. Wish ta hell I worked for Kripke
Bobby started the scrapbook when they were very young. John would send him a newspaper clipping here or there. A mention of a scholastic award for Sam, a mention of a sports award for Dean. Proud parent stuff that he wanted Bobby to keep for him coz they traveled light and he knew the older hunter considered himself an uncle of sorts to them.
Bobby never would have considered himself a "Scrap Booker" as the term is used now. There was no fancy froo froo background paper or ornaments that adorned the pages of the life book he kept on them. Just a bunch of news clippings, some of them quite yellow with age about what the Authorities had to say on the aftermath of this 'documented' hunt or that one. There were so many that never did make it into the papers that the few that received official inquiries were rare tip of the ice berg occasions.
But it told the story, in a sketchy way, of where they'd been and who they'd saved-or couldn't. It was something that chronicled their lives and sacrifices for the 'job'. Their lives in newsprint. No names to tie them to the incidents just results and official speculation from the uninformed civilian perspective. But it was something. Something that said they were there, that they did their job and the world was better for it.
At least it was something.
They deserved that he figured. A Hunters life was always too brief, you never knew if the day you woke up to would be your last.
And always anonymous.
It was lived by the same rule as camping, you walked in with very little and when you leave there should be nothing left behind to show you where ever even there.
So Bobby keeps adding to it because it's as much for him as them. His pride in them has never faltered, watching them grow up making tough decisions Always keeping each other safe. Sure they'd stumbled some along the way but over all they are two of the finest men he's ever known. And it didn't seem right that they should pass through this life without anyone knowing what they did, who they were.
So he added to it.
He didn't tell them about it though. It was meant to be a gift to them after...well just after. He wanted to give them some concrete proof that he'd loved them and hadn't stopped watching over them no matter how old they got or, these days, how crazy the world became.
At least it was something.
The end
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