Author's note: Time for Bobby.

If you want to make my day, leave a review.

Castiel had been in many dangerous situations before and kept his head.

"Bobby Singer?" he inquired, looking at the man who was holding the gun. He was over fifty, bearded, wore a sports cap and a t-shirt and plaid combination that wasn't that different from the ones he had seen on Dean.

"Who wants to know?" he asked.

Castiel reached into a pocket of his trench coat without his eyes leaving the man. The finger on the trigger tightened.

"I am reaching for my badge".

The finger relaxed slightly and he pulled it out, showing it to the man.

"Special Agent Castiel Novak".

While he didn't lower his gun, he snatched the badge out of Castiel's hand, quicker than he would have thought him capable of, and scrutinized it.

"Seems legit". He focused his gaze on Castiel again, the shotgun still pointing at him.

"Why are you here?"

"Could we discuss this inside, sir?" he asked politely. If he'd wanted to shoot him, he would have done so already.

Singer frowned, then nodded. He stepped aside and Castiel stepped over a doormat he was sure was hiding a sigil.

The man lowered his gun and Castiel looked around the house. He was standing in a hallway from which stairs led to the next floor as well as to the cellar. Through a door he could see in the kitchen; through another in the living room.

Bobby Singer didn't invite him into either, simply stood there and waited for an explanation.

When Castiel was silent, he said, "I repeat: Why are you here?"

"You are a hunter" he replied, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Castiel Novak, was it?"

He nodded.

"You're sure you're a fed?"

"You can call my boss, if you want" he answered, although he hoped he wouldn't. He'd rather Henricksen not find about this little excursion.

The ghost of a smile passed over Bobby Singer's face for reasons he couldn't imagine, but he immediately began questioning him.

"So I might be a hunter. So what? And what does it have to do with you?"

"Hunters have been killed" he said quickly, "George Stevens. Keith and Tracy McCall. . "

He could see that Singer had heard about it. The man's shoulders slumped and there was a flash of grief in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came.

"I know."

"I think that's why" he continued and took the ritual out of his pocket. He'd decided that it would be the best way to convince him that what he was saying was true.

Bobby took it and looked it over.

"It's gonna take me my golden years to translate this" he mumbled, but it was obvious from the way he went carefully over every line that he understood enough.

He looked at him.

"You are aware that that's – "

"Human skin. Yes".

Singer went into the living room without another word, and Castiel took that as an invitation to follow him.

The hunter sat down behind a desk and gestured for him to take place on one of the chairs in front of it. He chose the one to his right, and as it creaked, his head shot up.

Castiel couldn't read the look he gave him. Then Bobby shook his head and continued reading the manuscript.

"Where did you get that?" he asked gruffly.

It was the question Castiel had feared. Dean had told him where to find Bobby Singer and disappeared, more or less grumbling the address and making it clear that he really didn't want to do what he was doing, helping him warning a hunter.

He hadn't been able to ask any questions before the demon was gone again and had had to come up with a story on his own. This man was a hunter and would be suspicious, especially if he had heard about the deaths of the others.

"I – there was a demon. I surprised him at a crime scene. He ran, left this behind."

Bobby watched him shrewdly.

"Disappeared?"

Castiel remembered what he had read and what Dean had told him about demons possessing people.

"He left the body. He was dead. I found the manuscript on him and burned the body".

Bobby nodded, and Castiel felt that he had passed some sort of test. He felt ashamed that he had to lie to the man. Which didn't make sense, considering he had threatened him with a shotgun.

"You know what it is?"

"I know it's a ritual to open Hell" Castiel replied slowly, carefully. "I know that it would allow the demon who completed the ritual to choose who got on Earth."

He didn't mention the war in Hell. He wouldn't be able to explain how he knew about that without telling him about Dean.

Singer grunted before going over it again.

"It'll take some time to translate this" he said, more to himself than to Castiel. The agent waited for him to continue.

"How did you get involved? Working the case?"

He nodded. It occurred to him that the hunter would need additional information, how he knew about demons when he was a FBI agent, and opted for, "My father was interested in the occult. I slowly realized there was more out there".

Singer's eyes narrowed and Castiel wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not. The man seemed to be suspicious out of habit. If he fought demons and other monsters on a daily basis, Castiel couldn't blame him.

"Ever worked with other hunters? Never heard of you."

"I don't know any hunters" Castiel replied. He was growing annoyed. He wasn't used to being questioned.

He only realized his mistake when Singer stood up, his shotgun in his hand.

"Who gave you my name?"

He had to think quickly now. He wasn't only here because he wanted to warn this man, but also because he hoped he would find out more about Dean. He could only do that if he trusted him.

"The demon" he said firmly. "He began boasting who he was going to kill next. It wasn't difficult to find you".

"There's got to be more than one Robert Singer in the country".

"Not one who has enough time to hunt and lives alone" Castiel shot back. He hoped Singer would interpret this as him deciding that hunters lived alone most of the time so that no one would wonder what they were doing. Putting too many details into one's lies was dangerous. One always had to let the other person think for him or herself.

Singer laid the shotgun on the table again and Castiel relaxed.

"Come on. I could use a drink".

As with Dean, he decided to accept the beer Singer offered him. It was obvious that the hunter had decided to trust him, at least for the moment, and he wouldn't risk alienating him.

Plus, Singer was obviously waiting for him to drink. He had probably put something in that was repellent to demons, so Castiel took a sip. The other man appeared satisfied.

"Can't say I blame you for not wanting to get involved with hunters" Singer chuckled, sitting down on the couch. Castiel wondered if he should carry over the chair he'd sat in before, but decided to take place next to him.

"Hunting – it's a dangerous business".

He looked to his right, but quickly focused on Castiel again. He'd seen the look, of course, and tilted his head to see that there was a picture on the small table beside the couch.

He didn't inquire. He waited, knowing that people usually took this as an invitation to talk. Singer was no exception. Castiel could see him debating with himself if he should show him or not, then he shook his head, drowned his beer, slammed the bottle on the table, stood up and filled a glass with whiskey, everything so quickly and with such practice movements that Castile suspected it was a common occurrence.

Once he had downed half of his glass, he took the picture and all but shoved it into the agent's hands.

Castiel took one look at it and drew in a sharp breath, which he barely managed to cover with a cough. He took a swig of his beer to derail any suspicions Singer might have and took another look at the picture.

It showed Dean and another man he recognized as Sam from the picture Missouri Moseley had shown him at the Salvage Yard. Dean was leaning over a black car, its hood open, but looking at Sam, his eyes sparkling. They were both laughing.

Castiel didn't know why, but something hot flared up in him as he saw them laughing at one another.

"Sam and Dean."

For such a gruff man, his voice became surprisingly soft, and Castiel looked up.

Singer wasn't looking at him, or the picture. He was staring into the air, his eyes showing pain. Grief.

It hurt just to look at him, and Castiel swallowed. He had seen this expression more often than he would have wanted, and he would see it countless times in the future.

Relatives, people who had lost someone they loved.

"These are my – "

Singer looked down, appeared to be searching for a word, then he straightened himself up and continued, "adopted sons".

He was staring at Castiel now, as if expecting that he would challenge him. It took him a moment to understand why – of course he had looked into him before coming here, which the man was aware of; and therefore knew he had never adopted a child. He had been married once, but his wife had died years ago.

He didn't say anything.

Singer raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his silence. He continued. "Hunters. Both of them. The damn finest" – his voice broke a little and Castiel pretended that he didn't hear – "Dean – the elder one, by the Impala" Castiel assumed that was the car "he died. Few years back. Sam got out".

Another pause, before he added, "He's doing good. Living with a girl. Wants to go back to college".

His voice had lost its sorrowful tone, but his eyes still spoke of grief. And it was for Dean. It was all for Dean.

Dean Winchester had been a hunter.

Castiel had learned why the demon wanted him to warn Bobby Singer. His adoptive father. Why didn't he want him to mention him? He had been to Hell, he was a demon. But he had saved Castiel. He wasn't a typical demon. His past must have prevented him from turning into a mindless killer. He clearly still cared for this man, if he wanted him safe. And he couldn't imagine that Singer wouldn't be glad to hear that he was alive.

The other man shook his head.

"Don't know why I'm telling you this".

"I'm a good listener" Castiel said simply. It was something he had been told many times, and why he was usually send to interview the victims' families if they had to do so themselves, despite his preference to stay in the background.

Singer chuckled and took another sip of his whiskey. "Can't argue with that".

Castiel held out the picture, and he took it, his eyes lingering on Dean's face, resuming the sad expression they'd held during his story.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Singer" Castiel said. He was. For not telling him that Dean was alive. For sitting here, hearing his story, knowing what he did.

Singer carefully put the picture back in his place before replying, still looking at the picture, "No one has said that before".

Years of grieving for a loved one without anyone giving their condolences. Without anyone knowing what he had lost.

"Call me Bobby, will you?"

"Alright" he said, "Call me – " he hesitated before continuing, "Cas".

He couldn't tell Bobby that Dean was still alive. He had promised. But he could let him call by the same name Dean had decided on.

It wasn't much, but it made him feel a bit better.

"Well then, Cas, how about I make us something to eat and you tell me about the case?"

It was against the rules, telling someone about the case. Since he had broken so many in the course of the last few days, Castiel couldn't bring himself to care.

He followed Bobby into the kitchen, his beer in hand. As he watched him place a pan on the stove and take ingredients out of the fridge, he couldn't help but wonder when he'd cooked for a guest the last time before this.

Maybe it had been for Dean.

There were bottles all over the house, but Castiel couldn't blame him. He was still grieving. Just like George Stevens.

The temptation was there. He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out. He kept his mouth shut. Dean would be furious if he told Bobby. Bobby would be –

He tried to imagine what the hunter's reaction would be like. Would he be happy? Shocked? Hunters killed demons. But he wouldn't want to go after Dean, would he?

It was all too risky. So, even though he wanted to, Castiel didn't say anything as Bobby cooked, only quietly drank his beer.

He hadn't eaten all day and could feel it going to his head, so he put the bottle down and asked him if he needed help.

Bobby told him to set the table, and since Castiel had to clean it before and the hunter had to think for a moment where he kept more plates than the one he usually used and quickly rinsed before having dinner, his suspicions that he didn't have guests often were confirmed.

He hadn't known the man long, but it made him sad. He was polite, if a little abrupt, and he was lonely. If he had adopted Dean and his brother – at least unofficially – they must have been here often. He pictured a small Dean running around, perhaps chasing his younger sibling. A teenager, listening to loud music. A young man drinking beer with his father and working on the car – Impala, that's what it had been called, he remembered – his upper body all but disappearing under the hood, laughing at something his younger brother said. It made him smile.

"What are you smiling about?"

Bobby was standing by the stove, staring at him.

"Nothing. It just – I was reminded of someone".

"Family?"

Castiel, unwilling to lie to the man, said "It's complicated."

Bobby nodded understandingly, and only when Castiel turned around to finish setting the table did he realize what the hunter had believed he meant.

He blushed without reason, something that seemed to happen annoyingly often in the last few days, and concentrated on why he was here.

He didn't know what Bobby had cooked, and he didn't tell him, but there was a lot of meat and it tasted good. He remembered again that he hadn't eaten anything since he'd left the hotel and ate greedily.

A chuckle made him look up.

The smile the hunter wore made him look younger.

"You could try chewing, you know. You eat like – "

He blinked and turned his head to look out of the window, his smile dropping.

Castiel realized that they had barely talked about the threat that the ritual brought, but it didn't seem strange. Somehow, he felt comfortable around Bobby, and he thought that the other man felt the same.

He could have ignored his comment and spoken about the manuscript. Instead, he asked, "Your son?"

The silence that followed told him how stupid his question had been, and he was going to finally talk business when Bobby replied, "Yeah. Never could get his food down fast enough. Always wanted more than he could eat". He smiled again. "Haven't talked about him since – since it happened, really".

It was hard to lose someone and not being able to talk about it, he knew from experience. Gabriel hadn't died, but he had left, and Castiel had been too concerned for their father to try to talk about him. Their father hadn't mentioned him once. Castiel hadn't spoken to anyone about his brother since he had left – if one didn't count Balthazar, who he'd told one evening after an especially difficult case when they had been out and he had drunk a little too much. His friend had tried to mention the subject once, but had stopped when he realized Castiel didn't want to talk about it.

"What was he like?" he asked against his better judgement. They other things to focus on – but he couldn't resist the temptation to learn more about Dean. He only knew that he had been a hunter, that he liked beer, that he had a brother and that he had saved his life.

Bobby looked down on his plate. "Confident. Downright cocky. Could annoy the Hell out of you". He smiled fondly. "Loyal. Smart. Kind."

"It must have been difficult" Castiel said softly.

"It was worse for Sam" Bobby replied, apparently carelessly. He had obviously remembered that he was talking to a stranger, and it was unlikely that he would tell him more, Castiel registered with disappointment.

There was one thing he had been asking himself for a while, though.

"He was young, wasn't he, when he died?"

"Twenty-nine".

Dean looked like twenty-nine, or at least his body did. Hadn't he mentioned that he was using his own? Did this mean he was stuck forever at the age of twenty-nine?

"So, the ritual" Bobby said abruptly, taking away their plates and putting them in the sink, "Whoever's doing this isn't just any demon. Has to be a powerful one, and insane".

"It's risky".

"That's one word for it. Powerful spells can hurt the one who's casting them. He has to know exactly what he's doing."

"And if he succeeds – "

"Then we'll all have a problem".

Bobby looked at the page, now and then scribbling something on a notepad on his desk.

"There's three parts he has to complete. The first says is it necessary to kill ten of those who fight against darkness. And something about crosses – "

"Here" Castiel said, showing him the file he'd brought with him. "That should answer your questions".

He had never taken a file and showed it to anyone who wasn't allowed to see it.

Then again, he hadn't known about demons or hunters a few days ago.

Bobby took a look at the pictures. He grimaced.

"Sorry" Castiel said as a thought struck him, "I didn't ask you if you knew – "

"Met George Stevens once, years ago. Never met the others" he said. "That certainly answers my questions about the "turning inside out" part of the manuscript".

He carefully went through the pictures. "Clever demon, this Billy" he said. "Could get past the sigils".

"It might be they are trained to do so" Castiel answered. "This is important to whoever orders them to commit the killings. I'm sure he only takes the best".

"Great. Not just any demons, but trained demons." Bobby closed the file. "What made you suspect anything in the first place?"

He didn't use the suspicious tone of their conversation when Castiel had first entered the house, but the agent knew that much was at stake. He had to keep Bobby's trust.

"Like I said, my father was interested in the occult" he said, "and there were a few cases over the years – I eventually learned about the hunter community. I was satisfied to know that they were taking care of things outside my jurisdiction".

Bobby laughed. He noticed again that it made him look younger. Dean must have made him laugh often, he decided. Anyone who was spoken of with such fondness was sure to have done that.

"This case – I saw the pentagrams and the books." He shrugged. "It wasn't a difficult leap".

"No one's made the connection yet" Bobby said, frowning, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"They police have been very carefully what they reveal to the press. They don't want to risk mass hysteria because a serial killer is murdering people in their homes".

"No wonder no one caught it yet" he grumbled. "You people should be more willing to share information."

"Because that's what hunters do?"

Bobby said nothing.

They went over the text together, but couldn't make out much except that the second part seemed to be about throwing a town into chaos. Neither of them could say what this meant. Castiel thought about Dean telling him that he knew, and decided to call him as soon as possible.

As soon as he had left, because he was certain Bobby had his ears everywhere on his own ground.

He could have left the hunter to translate the manuscript and returned to working the case, or acting like he did, but Bobby offered him a bed for the night and he was too tired to say no. The older man seemed to like having him around, if because he had brought him the text or because he had been able to talk about Dean, he wasn't sure, and a few hours of sleep would do him good.

Soon enough, he was fast asleep in a guestroom.

He smiled when he saw the last light had gone out.

This was a special mission. The boss had told him to make a very nice display of the body.

The bodies. He had seen someone else through the windows, dark hair, suit. Why not take him out too. It wouldn't be any trouble.

But Singer – that would be pleasure.

His smile grew into a grin. Every demon had heard about Bobby Singer. He had been after them for so many years, and he had been like a father to the Winchesters.

If it weren't for Dean Winchester, he wouldn't have to die now.

If it weren't for Dean Winchester, everything would be easier.

The one time the hunter was supposed to be strong, and he broke too soon. He was supposed to be righteous, but he turned into something else the moment he was cut loose.

At least he got this kill out of it. Winchester was working for Crowley, so the boss wanted to send him a warning. Kill two birds with one stone and take another step towards completing the ritual while he was at it. Singer was perfect. Fighting against darkness and an old friend of the guy.

Winchester, really. Still holding on to his friends. Pitiful demon, just like he had been a pitiful human.

He would wait a little longer, to make sure they were asleep. Then he would slowly search for a weak spot in the protection. There had to be. There always was.

He could be patient. It would make everything sweeter.

Some patterns truly didn't change, Dean reflected, drinking another glass of whiskey in another bar. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the hangover tomorrow morning.

He had reached a dead end. Again. He could have called Cas, but there was a chance he was still with Bobby, and what if he greeted him with his name –

No, that wasn't it. He didn't want to hear Bobby's voice, or know that the agent was seated across from him. Damn feelings. Damn human feelings.

Sending someone to Bobby had been an impulse, and if he had learned anything about his impulses, it was that it normally didn't end well if he gave in to them.

He waved for another glass. He was even more frustrated than he'd been after he had told Cas where to find Bobby.

There were no leads, Crowley was away doing God knew what, Bela didn't have anything to tell him or she would show up –

He slammed his glass on the table when he realized, almost hard enough to break it, and ignored the reproachful look of the bartender.

He could hear Bela's words, clear as day.

They say you're working for Crowley.

If only one demon who worked for the enemy had heard that –

They would want to send Dean a message.

Most likely by killing someone they knew he cared for. Killing him wouldn't be easy, and perhaps they hoped they could use him later once they'd taken over Earth.

Attacking someone else, though –

They'd want to keep working towards their goal, of course. Which meant Bobby was the more likely option.

And he'd sent Cas to him.

He disappeared, leaving the bartender to stare at the chair he'd been sitting in.

Author's note: I have a lot of Bobby feelings. The romantic entanglement is coming eventually – I simply got caught up in the plot.

I hope you liked it, please review.