They were driving down the highway when one of the phones in the glove compartment started ringing.
Sam picked up the phone and pressed to answer.
"Hello."
"Hi, I'm trying to find Bobby Singer. I called the number I have, but it went straight to voice mail and gave this number in case of emergency."
The voice on the other line was that of a teenage boy, probably no older than 16. But something in it sounded familiar to Sam.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Bobby died about a year ago."
There was silence on the other end. And finally he heard the young man breathe out, "Wow, I'm, I'm sorry to hear that. He was almost like a second father to me."
"Ya, Bobby was the best second father to a lot of people." He said, although he'd spent a lot of time with Bobby in the past few years, and didn't remember him mentioning any teenage kids. "Well, maybe my brother and I can help you. We kind of worked with Bobby a lot so we know a thing or to."
"Ya, maybe."
"What's your name kid? Maybe we can come meet you."
"Well I think I'm in still in Tulsa. My name's Sam. Sam Winchester."