A/N: Hello, and welcome back for another short story. Buckle in and get ready for the journey. The idea for this one came from DSCWin and VegasGranny helped me bring it to life. I hope you enjoy this little adventure that Bobby is going to have. I do like reviews/comments. NC

Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of SPN, and this is my own creation. Any errors are my own.

Chapter 1

The day had been overcast with the hint of rain in the air as Bobby Singer went over his Dodge Charger to check the weapons cache after he was sure his vehicle was good to go. Pulling back the false trunk bottom he discovered that the Holy water had leaked out all over his knives, rock salt, several bags of herbs and some papers. He looked at the mess in disgust with a sour expression and an exclamation of "Balls!". Bobby pulled out what wasn't salvageable tossing it in the garbage can and grabbed some rags to dry the space out.

Bobby took the knifes with him inside to wipe down and oil, so they won't rust and then went downstairs to get replacement items for what was messed up by the water. After putting everything into a paper bag, he headed back outside to the car when the bottom of the bag tore open and dumped everything in the dirt. He threw his hands in the air with an exasperated "Balls!" again. What else could go wrong, he wondered. With a heavy sigh, he picksed everything up and dusted them off as he stored them safely in his cache. He hoped this isn't a bad omen that he shouldn't be taking this case he had found.

He had caught a possible hunt in Washington state and was going to head out early in the morning and drive halfway before finding a motel room for the night. The approximate time to drive there was about twenty hours, and he was getting too old to try and do that in one day. His old bones were creaking and cracking more and more.

Singer Salvage Yard was the business that he inherited and ran when he wasn't hunting or gathering research for other hunters. He had been hunting supernatural monsters for over twenty years, ever since his wife was possessed by a demon and tried to kill him. Had it not been for another hunter, Rufus Turner, breaking into his house, he would have died that day. That was the day his life was turned upside down and started him down the path of the hunting life.

Overwrought with his wife's death, Bobby headed for Japan to get as far away from what had happened as he could. He found out there were even monsters in Japan and started his training before heading back home. He contacted Rufus, who saved his life, to learn what he knew and thus began gathering books, scrolls, tomes, anything he could find on the supernatural to start his library. He turned the dining room into his office and got rid of the table and chairs so he could put a desk and bookcases in the room.

The more Bobby learned, the more he knew there was to learn. He discovered that monsters he thought were make believe were real and they killed innocent humans, to feed on, or just for the hell of it. He hardened and became a grouchy, knowledgeable, seasoned hunter. Most saw him as an ornery old cuss, but knew he was the best at what he did.

The townsfolk thought of him as the town drunk and hermit, and he never contradicted their assumptions wanting to stay under the radar. He became the go to guy for other hunters who needed research for their hunt. His research material grew steadily over the years as he kept adding to his collection. Deceased hunter's journals sometimes made their way to him and he stored them for the knowledge they had inside them. His name and knowledge were passed through the grapevine of hunters and his reputation grew along with his knowledge. He had even trained other greenhorn hunters that came to him.

Once Bobby was satisfied that the car was okay and his weapons cache was well stocked, he headed inside to fix his dinner and catch up on some paperwork for the business before he left. He needed to pay a few bills and answer some emails before relaxing in front of the television for a couple of hours. Then it was off to bed so he could get up early to head out to Washington state.

He looked in the fridge to see if there were any leftovers that needed to be eaten and pulled out a container of fried chicken with rice and gravy that would go bad before he would get back. Bobby heated things up and sat at the table to review the information he had gathered about the job as he ate his dinner.

He looked over the articles he had printed out about supposed animal attacks in the small town of Kettle Falls. The victims were torn apart, and their hearts were missing. This threw red flags for him, thinking it could be werewolf attacks and knew it needed to be checked out. From all the articles he read, it seemed like it was a rogue werewolf acting alone and not a pack.

He checked the directions to Kettle Falls to decide a good place to stop for the night and picked Billings, Montana, unless he needed to stop sooner. He finished his meal and cleaned up before heading into his office to do paperwork. He also needed to call someone, either Rufus or Garth, to man the phones while he was gone. They usually took turns giving the others some downtime. The phones were not that busy most of the time, but they needed to be manned in case a hunter needed backup.

Once Bobby watched the weather, he headed for bed deciding to read for an hour to calm his mind before going to sleep. He set his alarm clock for four am to be sure he woke early. It wouldn't take him long to have a cup of coffee and toast, dress, put his bags in the car, and he would be on the road.

spn

Four am came quicker than Bobby wanted as he rolled over to turn off the alarm. He lay there a moment to wake before getting up and heading for the bathroom first and then got dressed and grabbed his bags to take into the living room. The coffee was perked, and he poured a cup and dropped slices of bread into the toaster. When it popped up, he spread butter and jam over the pieces and took a bite. He went over his agenda in his head as he finished his meager meal.

Bobby fixed a travel mug to take with him and unplugged the coffee pot as he prepared to leave. He double checked the backdoor was locked before heading back into the living room to shoulder his bags and walked out the front door, locking it behind him. He put his bags in the backseat and dropped into the driver's seat, cranking it, and letting it idle for a few minutes to warm up before driving down the driveway. He stopped after passing through the gate so he could lock them. With that done, Bobby pulled onto the road to head for the interstate going west.

Traffic was light this early in the morning and Bobby made suitable time toward Washington state. The sky was overcast with clouds heavy with rain and it looked like he was going to run into the storm. Bobby turned on the radio to find a news station so he could see how bad the storm was going to be. He hoped it was heading away from the direction he was heading. He only planned to stop for gas and food until he decided to stop for the night.

Before he pulled from the gas station, Bobby rummaged around in the glove box for an audiobook on the history of the American West and inserted it into the tape deck. He adjusted the volume and settled back as the deep voice of James Earl Jones began to read the book.

Rain came down in sheets as Bobby pulled from the gas station to get back on the highway. His windshield wipers swished back and forth in a steady motion as they tried to keep up with the downpour. It drummed on the hood of the car, slowing at times and then increasing until after a couple of hours he finally ran out of it. It still sprinkled off and on, but the worse of it was behind him.

Some of the tension left his body as he shrugged his shoulder and rolled his head to relieve the tightness in his neck. Traffic picked back up now that the rain was gone, and he started making good time again. He continued his journey west and made another stop for gas and some food and to stretch his legs before getting back behind the wheel of the car once again.

Billings Montana was only thirty miles away and Bobby knew he needed to stop for the night. He wasn't getting any younger and these long drives took a toll on a person. He was going to get a room for the night at a small motel and continue his journey in the morning. He would still be about nine hours from his destination and planned on finding a motel to set up a base and start his investigation the following day.

Bobby had a choice of motels to choose from, but he liked the smaller, family run places that attracted less attention than the larger chains and were usually cheaper. He found one to his liking and pulled into the parking lot, stopping at the office. He got out and went in to register and got his room key. It was late, so he only stayed up for a brief period to unwind and stop driving before turning in for the night.