I read my Japanese to English dictionary quietly at the table as I waited for breakfast. The sun was warm where it poured through the window on my right. I didn't even have to look outside to see the scrapyard, already knowing the seemingly chaotic piles of metal and almost randomly parked, rusted cars out there by heart. The metal would be hot to the touch by the time I got out there, but it was worth it just to spend that extra half hour with Karin that morning, warm and lazy and playful beneath the sheets.

In the kitchen she was humming while she prepared breakfast. The telltale scrape of a spatula against a skillet spoke of scrambled eggs and bacon; Karin almost always made that when we- heh- slept in, mostly because it was quick.

I put my book away (or, at least, somewhere behind me, probably on one of the many stacks of books lying around) once I heard the clink of plates. I saved my place with this thin, pattern engraved piece of metal I found out in the yard a few days back. Karin pecked me on the cheek as she set down my plate, the glanced behind me to see what I'd been reading while I waited. "Japanese?" she asked, with a smile that was both guilty and proud.

I shrugged, "Y' never know what's gonna come in handy."

She looked out into the scrapyard discreetly, but I knew her well enough to know what she was thinking. When she saw that I saw she sighed. "I tied you down here Bobby."

I raised an eyebrow in a way that I hoped looked suggestive, but probably made me look like an idjit, and said, "Now there's a thought."

She fought a smile. "I was being serious."

"So was I."

She lost the battle and a tired smile tipped the corners of her lips up into a curious smirk. The victory was short-lived, however. The smile faltered. "You're a smart man, Bobby. You could be out there saving lives or something."

"Maybe," I agreed, taking one of her hands, "but I wouldn't be near so happy as I am right here, with you."

She smiled for real that time, and it lit up her face brighter than anything. Suddenly it seemed like she was the room's light source and the sun pouring in through the window was just a happy coincidence, glad to compliment her in whatever ways it could.

A quick squeeze of my hand later we got back to our regularly scheduled breakfast, discussing each of our plans for the day. There was a 63' Ford Falcon out back that I thought would sell once I worked on it a bit. Karin wanted to try to instill some order into our bookshelves, even though we both knew I'd probably mess them up again within the week. I tried to explain that it was controlled chaos, but she was insistent, determined to make it hospitable enough that we could start inviting over more company than her sister and some of the guys I knew from down at the parts shop.

She was starting to clear the dishes when I looked out for the first time that morning. There was this cloud of smoke out there, and damn if it wasn't the most curious thing I ever saw in my life. It was thick, black smoke, but it didn't trail up and fade into the wind like smoke normally did. Instead it appeared to be heading against the wind, slowly coming towards the house. "Hey, you seeing this?" I asked Karin, pointing out the window.

"Well, I'll be... What is that?" she wondered, squinting at the slow, dark cloud. "It looks like one of those personal rainclouds you see following sad characters in cartoons."

That was actually a pretty accurate description, upon further reflection. "All it's missing is the occasional flash of lightning. I'm going to go check it out," I declared, scooting out my chair.

"Wait! It might be dangerous," my wife cautioned me. "We should call someone."

I frowned, pulling on a cap hanging from the coat rack. "Who? The weatherman? I'll be fine. It's probably just some weird sandstorm."

"Just don't get too close to it!" she called from the dining room as I pulled on some shoes.

I headed out the door and saw... nothing. The mysterious cloud of smoke had disappeared. Confused, I jogged out and took a look around. I must have spent an hour combing over that place, trying to figure out where it had gone, before finally deciding that it wasn't really worth wondering about and got to work.

The Falcon was actually in pretty decent shape. She had a few dents in her, but her frame was still strong and her engine would need only a bit of fine tuning. It must have been some sort of idjit that threw her away. I patted her fondly before grabbing one of my screwdrivers and crawling down underneath her.

An hour or so later even the cool shade of the car wasn't enough to keep me from feeling the summer heat, which was probably multiplied by all the metal. "Hotter than Hell," I muttered to no one in particular.

"I wouldn't say that," Karin said, her feet suddenly appearing to the left of mine. Normally I could hear her heals against the gravel from quite a ways, so it wasn't my fault when surprise knocked my head against the car. I hadn't even heard her coming.

"Wouldn't say what?" I asked, confused. She couldn't have heard me. I barely heard me and I was talking.

She didn't answer, bending down to wrap a hand around my ankle. I smiled, prepared for a playful tug wordlessly asking me to come out from under the car.

Pain wrenched up my leg as she nearly dislocated it pulling me out, but it was nothing compared to the gravel tearing open my back when the quickness of the movement pulled my shirt out of my pants. The shock wore off quickly and I curled onto my side, cursing in every language I knew between inarticulate shouting. She planted a heal against my shoulder and pushed my back against the ground and I must have blacked out.

When I came to she glared down at me and said, "If you tell me wear the Mark of Amon is I will make your end quick. Ish."

"Karin? What are you talking about?" I demanded, trying to figure out what was going on before the way her heal dug into my shoulder forced me to pass out again.

Her eyes flashed black. It wasn't my wife.

I swung the wrench still in my hand directly at that monsters knee, making it scream in rage as the bone there cracked and it fell to it's side momentarily.

I rolled onto my feet and ran as fast as my limp would let me, ignoring to pain. I had to find Karin, make sure whatever that was couldn't hurt her.

"KARIN! CALL THE COPS! HIDE!" Yanking open the door, I yelled, knowing I was giving away my location, but not caring if it kept her safe. I slammed the door, using my weight to hold it closed while that thing pounded on it from the other side. The house looked like it had been torn apart. Books were tattered ruins across the floor and all the biggest pieces of furniture had been overturned in search of something.

Silence descended, sudden and unwelcome. I ran to the kitchen on instinct and grabbed a knife as it burst in through the living room window, looking both everything and nothing like my wife.

It ran at me, going in for a swift tackle, but I'd played enough football in high school to know how to time my sidestep just right, so it would go flying past me, too quick to change it's course. Knife in hand, I sprinted up the stairs, spurred on by cold fingers brushing against my back. Old stairs rattled beneath my feet, protesting that I was lunging four steps at a time.

I called for Karin. She wasn't answering. I wasn't sure I wanted to know why not.

Slamming me into a wall, it snarled. It's arm was a steel bar across my shoulder blades; I fought uselessly for a moment before going still.

"Where is my wife?" I growled at it, more angry and desperate and scared than I'd ever been in my life.

It chuckled, running the fingers of it's free hand softly down my cheek. "Honey, don't you recognize me?"

I stabbed it in the hip. My angle was wrong, but I was fueled by something deep inside of me, something I never even knew existed, and I stabbed that thing so hard that it stumbled back from the mix of shock and pain.

It lasted for less than a second, but it bought me enough time to duck into a nearby closet, lock it from the inside and throw my weight against it. The thing screamed and pounded on the door so hard that I rattled with each hit.

I didn't even realize I still had the knife until I went to clasp my hands together in prayer and found it clenched in my hand. My knuckles were white from the force I clasped the weapon with, but I couldn't manage to unclench them. I didn't really want to.

Suddenly, the door was torn out from behind my back. I spun, bringing my hands up to protect myself from the monster and I can't tell you which one of us was more surprised when my knife wound up buried in it's chest. No, I don't know that, but I do know that I recovered from it quicker and pulled it out with a sickening sound that I'd only ever heard when Karin was cooking meat and her knife struck bone. I buried it again before those impossibly strong arms could stop me and kept going until it was beneath me on the ground and there was only a ragged, bleeding hole where it's heart should've been, but it was still alive and I didn't even know how that was possible.

A hand caught my wrist as I tried to swing the knife down again, twisting it sharply and probably breaking it, but I didn't care at that point. I panted as I struggled against it, trying to pry it's grip loose with my other hand. The monsters other hand clutched at the back of my neck, squeezing tight enough that I had no choice but to scream.

Black smoke clawed it's way from Karin's body and down my throat and that was the last time I saw my wife for nearly two dozen years, with her heart torn out by her own husband.

Authors notes: Okay, you might have noticed some slight branching off from canon, dear reader, but fear not. I will be sticking as closely to his back story as is possible, and any changes will simply be to help get Bobby from this very young, somewhat reckless, and definitely broken man into the man we all know and love as well as I know how.

Also, I didn't know how to spell his wife's name, so I just went with the spelling that made the most sense to me.