We arrived at Bobby's house the following afternoon. My first impression was that he was nice enough, but there was an underlying feeling that he was not someone you wanted to piss off. John had called him ahead of time, and he knew exactly why they had brought me to his doorstep.
The Winchesters left shortly after to find another case, which left me alone with another perfect stranger. If I hadn't been so numb with grief, it might have bothered me that I had spent the last few days with men I knew nothing about, or that I would now be living with one for the foreseeable future.
Bobby gave me the tour of his house, starting with his den. There were books everywhere, most of them extremely old. I felt myself smile slightly as I looked at some of the titles; reading was one of my passions, and Bobby's books all had to do with various supernatural entities.
After that, he showed me the kitchen, and I was surprised at all the phones lined up against the wall. Each one had a different label on it, a large piece of masking tape with a name written on it. Homeland Security, FBI, CIA, Federal Marshalls, and State Police were just some of the names I saw.
"What's all that for?" I asked, pointing to the phones. He smirked.
"When we're investigating a case, sometimes people ask to speak to a superior before they'll cooperate. Whoever's hunting gives them a number, and whatever their cover is, I can assume the identity of their superior and browbeat the dumbass wanting to play hard ball." I shook my head, trying to not laugh.
After the tour of the house was over, he started making burgers for lunch, and I sat on the counter as he did the cooking. Inwardly, I was hurting so badly I had grown numb, and I hung my head and closed my eyes.
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked after several moments of silence. Tears burned my eyes as I shook my head. "Well, if you ever do, I'm here."
"You know, John told me what happened…he said you've got the right stuff for being a hunter…you're smart, you're adaptable…you didn't panic, you didn't scream, you just did what needed to be done…"
"Look, I don't wanna talk about it right now," I burst out, hot tears starting to roll down my cheeks. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. "Look, I've been doing some thinking, and I need to change my identity. I mean, my parents are gonna report me as a missing person if they haven't already, and the cops might find it suspicious that I ran off right after…all that."
"John was right," he said as he dug in a drawer for a spatula. "You are smart. So, any particular name or identity catch your attention?"
"Well, since I'll be staying with you for the foreseeable future, I figured it would lower suspicions with your neighbors if I was your niece," I told him. He looked at me strangely for a moment. "You're not an only child, are you?"
"I like you," he stated, pointing at me with the spatula for a moment before flipping the burgers. "And to answer the question, I'm an only child…but I didn't grow up here, so I think that'd work. Thought of a name?"
"Kyra."
"Kyra, huh? Why that name?"
"I like it…besides, Kyra Singer has a bit of a ring to it, don't you think?" He chuckled as he grabbed plates out of the cabinet and set them on the counter.
"Could be worse," he admitted, then looked at me with an expression I knew well. "If you're not hungry, I can save yours for later…John told me you haven't been sleeping, and you look dead on your feet. Go upstairs and get some rest, Kyra."
"Thanks, Uncle Bobby," I mumbled as I hopped down from the counter. He smirked, and I was halfway to the door before I paused. "You know what's funny? I actually do have an uncle named Bob."
His laughter followed me all the way up the stairs.