May 17
I can still smell that fire, even though I took a shower and changed my clothes. I got a second chance with Bobby, but I didn't tell him anything about this crap.
I didn't tell him because I decided it doesn't matter anymore. Bobby's really my Dad. Always has been. Sam's too, and the biology doesn't matter a damn bit. The way Bobby looked at us, the way he called us his boys- he knew. In all the ways that mattered, he knew we were both really his in all the ways that count.
I'll admit, though, dropping his flask into the flames ranks right up there with the worst things I've ever had to do. I hope he's with Karen now and they're having a blast roaring around Heaven in that crappy ol' Chevelle.
If I get back up there, I'm finding Bobby Singerland first thing, because he'll be a big part of Dean Winchesterland too.
