I pondered his question a bit. "I guess you could call it that, yeah." Cas tilted his head again. "I thought you said you never had Grace." he commented. "I never had Grace. Heck, I have never even been to a town called Heaven, let alone the real deal. As far as I know, I am human." I looked at each man in turn. Dean, still sitting on the tabletop, twiddling his beerbottle. Sam with his elbows on his knees, hands under his chin, fingers entwined, eyes in a 1000-mile stare. Cas in a similar pose, but his eyes were darting between me, Sam and Dean, as if he was trying to solve an intricate puzzle. A thought occured to me. "Why don't you ask Bobby? Maybe he knows. He knows just about everything. " It was as if I had flipped a switch. The whole atmosphere changed. All three men let their shoulders droop and hung their heads.
After a bit, Sam let out a soft sigh. "I guess I'll tell you. Bobby... Bobby is dead." I felt as if the ground was swept from under me. "What?! Oh, guys... I'm so sorry!" I felt my eyes sting. Bobby had been another of my favorite characters. "What happened?" Sam cleared his throat. "He.. He got shot. The bullet hit his brain and there was nothing that the doctors could do." Dean got another glass and filled it from the decanter. "Yeah, well. He hung in there, fighting to get us that message. I hope he is happy in Heaven, annoying the angels and drinking Johnny Walker blue with Rufus." Cas looked devestated, and didn't speak. The brothers exchanged another look and they both patted his back. "It's ok, Cas. Not your fault." Dean whispered, barely audible.
Cas looked up to them with a sad look in his blue eyes and I fought not to jump to him and hug the stuffing out of him. Somehow I felt that he might not appreciate it. "Thank you, Dean, but we all know it is my fault. If I hadn't..." Sam squated next to his friend. "Don't you even try and finish that sentence, Cas. If you hadn't, then some fang or werewolf or some other monster would have gotten him. Before we salted and burned the flask, he told us that sometimes it is just time to go. This was his." I didn't miss the 'salt and burn' remark, but I decided not to pry. If Bobby had stayed around as a ghost, he did it for the boys, his boys. The brooding silence broke when whith more wingflapping, a man, about 5' 8", appeared.