Chapter 1. Three men and a little Lady


BOBBY'S P.O.V.

Do you know what it's like to lose love so many times that you just give up counting? Well I don't, I mean I have lost a number of people I love throughout the years, my grandparents, my parents, friends from before my days of hunting, my wife, Rufus, the closest thing to a brother that there was; John the closest thing to a best friend I could ever have. Lastly there was the Harvelles', Ash, Pam and the Roadhouse (though the Roadhouse wasn't a person it was a safe haven for people like me, so it meant a lot when it burnt down to the ground).

Though, I still have my boys, or I should say John's boys. However, family doesn't end in blood. I take them to be like my own sons and with that they're what you could expect a bunch of whiney pain in the asses who have done more trouble than good but the good they've done cancels all the bad and I guess I became more oblivious to that these past years, that's what parents do they bitch about the bad and overlook it when the good settles in.

Now, what I was saying earlier about 'losing loved ones more times than you could count' I was talking about a girl I once knew as Mary and back when I knew her she had long silky black hair and drove a cherry-red 1968 Volkswagen 411, the ugliest piece of shit I have ever seen nevertheless she always disagreed with me and I never understood why a greasemonkey like her would like such a crap car. That is until July 4, 1971. I was 16 years old and she was 19. Mary acted likeone of those girls you'd see in movies like Jaclyn Smith or Pamela Sue-Martin and let's not forget Lynda Carter, she looked nothing like them of course but damn was she was one tough cookie.

I'm not saying she wasn't pretty or anything, she was, she had this unconditional beauty to her no matter how ordinary her features were like her brown eyes, there was always something there, something beneath it all. Mary was an extraordinary person to begin with but I never had an idea how extraordinary she was up until three weeks ago in a sudden twist of fate.


"Oh, balls!" Bobby said as he tried to turn the headlights of his 1970 Chevelle SS on but they refused to. "Damn it!" He cured. "Now of all time?" The rain was pouring hard onto the road and onto his car so hard in fact that it was audible. Loudly thumping on the roof and bonnet of his car; the windshield wipers failed to fulfil their purpose and the road in front of Bobby became blurred. Suddenly there was a streak of yellow light, a honk, tires screeching and profanity. Bobby opened his window to see where he was and immediately he felt his stomach tie into knots. He had driven onto the wrong road however the reason he felt anxious was because the road he was on was the road to the one place he had considered a second home the road to the Harvelle's Roadhouse that had burnt down years ago.

At first Bobby just felt terrible, thinking about Jo, Ellen, Ash and the others he'd met there and he thought that was the only thing he could feel, terrible, because there was no Roadhouse it had burnt down to the ground years ago the reason he never traveled on this road, but as he made his way he saw it. The lot that should have been empty.

"Son of a bitch." Bobby said violently making a turn and parking next a white 1964 Pontiac. He rolled his window up opened the door and got out, his hand resting on the door frame while the other was rolled up into a aggriavted fist. "This is just wrong." He said.

There were people all around the place, lights, loud music, laughter, bikers, and the like. The place was rebuilt, still called the Roadhouse, however it wasn't. It may have had the same name and sort of looked the same but it wasn't the same damn place. Not because of the fact that it was bigger or filled with more people and seemed happier but because he knew if he walked in through those doors he wouldn't feel that welcoming safety. Ellen wouldn't be behind the counter and Jo wouldn't be passing out the beers. Not only that but he had a bad vibe about the place, it was one of those gut feelings everyone gets when the wind is going the right speed and blows past you strong enough to give you this chill down your spine which makes you reconsider your first feelings and thoughts toward a certain person, place or thing.

Bobby was about to close his door and march in there guns blazing until his cell phone started to ring, or one of them, the one he was currently using, his least favorite the new HTC he always complained that it wasn't a phone at all, phones had buttons for goodness sake!

He picked it up and answered. "Yeah, what'd ya want?"

"Bobby, we need your help." Sam Winchester's voice came. "There's been a string of unusual murders going on all over the country."

"Alright," Bobby began to say. "And you're bitching to me because...?"

"Because whoever's killing them is making it look like untreated fevers." Dean's voice came. The brothers were obviously driving off somewhere again in their black 1967 Impala while on the phone.

"What made you think it wasn't?" Bobby asked returning to his car to get away from the rain his door still slightly opened.

"The cooked, boiled, and baked inside." Sam said. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"No, but I'll find out." Bobby said. "In the meantime, seeing as I'm not home yet, I need you boys to do a little research for me on the Roadhouse."

"Why?" Sam and Dean both said in unison.

"Because..." Bobby said. "It's reopened."

"WHAT?" The boys said as if someone had just committed murder in cold blood against them and they couldn't do a damn thing about it. "How?" Sam asked.

"No clue, it just is, same name, kind of looks the same, a bit bigger, and it's right here." Bobby said.

"Wait, you're there?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, didn't mean to go here, just by accident, in any case, could you look up why they reopened the dammed place." Bobby asked.

"Uh, sure." Sam replied.

"We'll be there in a few hours." Dean said over Sam.

"You don't need to." Bobby said. "It's not like there's anything 'interesting' going on here."

"Actually," Sam said. "That's where we were headed in the first place, not the Roadhouse, but there."

"Why?" Bobby asked his voice starting to become grim.

"That's where we think the next hit is going to be." Dean replied.

"What makes you think that?"

"Whoever is doing this is going in a straight line and it kills in fours, three men and a woman." Sam explained. "Just wait for us before you do anything, okay?"

"Who the hell do you think I am, Papa-Smurf?" Bobby said a bit offended. "I can take care of myself, I've saved your asses a few times you know."

"It's not that, it's just ... just be careful." Sam said.

"Fine." Bobby said and hung up.


BOBBY'S P.O.V.

I was going to see Mary again and she was going to see me, though it wasn't the way we would have imagined it or at least not the way I imagined and not the way she ever planned. I owed her for that night in 71', I owed her my life once that debt was paid it was 'whatever'.