Wow! I just realized that these lil author notes get crazier and crazier the deeper into this fic I go. I started out so calm and collected. Lol, don't mind me. Really.

Disclaimer: I haven't totally given up hope, but the morning light has brought with it a more realistic view of the SPN world. It's not mine…yet.

Then:

"I remember the pit," and before Dean can take another step towards him, Sam puts a hand up to stop his brother.

"And no, I don't want to talk about it. Not now, maybe not ever. It doesn't matter anymore. None of it does. That was a different life. I have a new life. I've started over. What's done is done and there's no going back and I don't know that I'd want to go back if I could."

"So, what? You don't want your soul back?"

Now:

"If you two ladies are finished with your cat scratchin', I've got a few ideas to throw around."

"Of course, Bobby."

Dean tossed a dirty look from the sofa and silently mimicked his brother's school boy response, his nose crinkled in distaste. The younger Winchester caught the movement from the corner of his eye and breathed a humorless laugh through his nose and gave Dean no further attention. But it was too late as Bobby had also seen Dean's immaturity in action.

"You know," he said pulling around to level a dangerous look. Dean pressed his back into the sofa as a means of putting distance between himself and the grizzly bear in front of him. "You may be too damned big to put over my knee, but you're not so old I can't smack you around a bit."

"I don't know what you've heard, Bobby, but I'm not really into that kind of stuff. I'm more of a feathers and lace kinda guy." He stopped and considered for a moment and then quickly corrected himself when both men gave him a strange, wide-eyed look. "Not wearing them, well not me anyway. You…you know what I mean." Bobby shook his head slowly, snatched up this notebook from the sofa and presented it openly on the desk in front of Sam.

"Every culture's got their own theories on souls. Ancient Greeks related being ensouled to being alive. Before Socrates the thought was that when you died, your soul left your body and retired into Hades. No chance of coming back to a body, but then Socrates and Plato changed that. They say your soul is reincarnated."

"So, some little kid is walking around with Sammy's soul?"

"No, you idjit. These are ancient beliefs. And before you ask, no I'm not gonna cut to the chase." Dean pulled up short with a frown, but Bobby continued. "Then Aristotle comes along and half agrees with Plato, who was his teacher by the way, and says the soul is your core essence. But he disagrees about the soul being separate from the body. Thinks it can't be done. Like this pen," he picks up a discarded ink pen. "It's sole purpose is to write."

"It can stab things too," Dean interjects and grins when he sees a smirk pull at the corner of his brother's mouth.

"No, that's what you do with it. But it's purpose is to write. So the pen's soul, if it had one, would be the act of writing."

"Do inanimate objects have souls?" Dean asks and Sam is quick to answer.

"Depends on what you believe. Some native tribes believe so. The rocks, rivers, wind, etcetera. If you use Bobby's example, even this pen does. Just…not me apparently."

"Was that a joke? Yea, that was a joke."

"It wasn't a joke, Dean. Just stating a fact, I guess."

"Hey, let's keep this Sunday School lesson going, shall we?" When neither young man said anything further, Bobby continued. "Most cultures believe that souls are in all living things, including animals."

"What about monsters?" Dean just couldn't help himself.

"I'll get to that," Bobby stated firmly. "Christian Bible says that it's God that makes the souls. Genesis 2:7 says 'And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.' That we became a soul not that we have one. But I think that you can both attest to the fact that your soul lives beyond your body. Else what is there to torture in Hell?"

"Except I went in there, body and soul." At Sam's statement, Dean raised a hand to his brother and nodded, indicating that he agreed with the unasked question.

"I know, Son. We'll…we'll get this figured out. Don't you worry."

"He's not," Dean added and then quickly regretted the snide comment. "Sorry, Sam…Bobby." He looked down to where his worn boots were scuffing the wooden floor. Dean felt the pressure of being in over his head and guilty as well that he wasn't able to pull the answer or a plan out of a hat like usual. And that's when it hit him.

"Wait. I was tortured in Hell."

"Congratulations. Feeling left out were we?" was Bobby's sarcastic reply.

"No, wait. There's more. I was tortured in Hell, I mean, my soul was tortured. And then when that dick, Alastair pulled me down from the rack, I was changed, tainted or something. Like a demon. Exactly like a demon, ripping people apart and enjoying it, but it was still me, you know? So, does that mean demons have souls too?"

"Yes. And monsters too." Dean's head spun quickly toward the sound of his brother's low voice. The look on Sam's face was dark, like he was trying to fight against himself. It was the first real pensive face Dean had seen since finding out Sam was alive and he wasn't sure whether to cheer or run away in terror. So he sat still, waiting on Sam. And he could see clearly when the switch had been flicked and a decision made.

"Okay, so I haven't been totally honest with either of you."

"Shocker…Sorry," Dean apologized again. He was going to have to learn to keep better control of his verbal urges.

"Honest about what, Sam?" Bobby asked, not bothering to even shake his head at Dean.

"The Alphas. All these monsters we've been hunting lately. There's a reason that we're going after them. A reason that we just happen to keep stumbling across the Alphas. And I'm pretty sure it has to do with their souls."