Topic: Bobby's Journal

Bobby Singer

Date: 2015-06-13 00:03 EST
Sioux Falls, SD - 2012 (Ain't sure of the date. Think it's a Tuesday.)

Well, here we are, on the verge of another apocalypse. This whole thing is getting a little old, if you ask me, but no one has bothered to ask.

Hades is Public Enemy #1 right now, along with his cohorts. Wish I'd paid more attention to my Greek mythology lessons back in grammar school. Seem like a bunch of whiny kids, all of them fighting over who deserves to be King Shit of Turd Island. Why's someone always looking to look after us humans, like we're children who need a babysitter. Far as I can tell, God ain't done much for us in a while, and everyone else is in it for themselves. One thing the Olympians don't seem to get - they had their shot; their time is over. We don't need no one pulling our strings. We've made plenty of mistakes as a race, but we're still kicking. I reckon we'll still be kicking long after the Olympians have burned themselves out. I have a feeling immortality ain't all it's cracked up to be, and from what Dean's told me of Heaven, it sounds pretty boring. All I'm hoping for after I leave this mortal coil is some well-deserved rest.

I'm hoping when all is said and done - assuming we win - Dean and Nim will settle down somewhere and focus on raising a family. Retire from hunting. Let someone else do it, if it still needs to be done. Coach from the sidelines maybe. Hell, there'll always be monsters of one kind of another. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and the like. They ain't going away anytime soon, but gods, demons, angels? Dean once said that humans were the worst kind of monster, and he wasn't wrong, but we don't need looking after. We can look after ourselves, thank you very much.

That was one thing I never understood about John. Oh, I understood his grief well enough, and his need for answers and even vengeance, but he had two things I never had - two boys who thought the world of him - and they deserved better than a man who only wanted to be a father when it suited his fancy. Ellen and I loved those boys like they were our own. Hate to admit there were times when I wished John wouldn't come back. I'm probably going to Hell for that, but I don't care. Dean's face would light up like a Christmas tree when his dad came around, and when he didn't, well, there was no consoling that boy.

There's no question Sam was better off without John. The two of them did nothing but butt heads since Sammy was old enough to speak his own mind. I ain't saying John didn't love them. He did, and he was proud of them both, but he was too damned pig-headed to tell them so himself, until it was too late. Ain't sure what would have happened if John hadn't taken up hunting after Mary died. Maybe he'd have gotten dragged into it anyways. I sure as hell did, but I didn't have two small boys to look after who needed their dad, especially after losing their mom.

Anyways, I guess there ain't no point in crying over spilt milk. That's what Ellen would say, anyway. Still, not a day goes by that I don't think about it. That I don't think about what happened at the cemetery. Not a day goes by that I don't think about Sam. I'm sure Dean feels the same way. I don't know how he got here, but I ain't looking a gift horse in the mouth. I know he ain't the same Dean that died that day with his brother, but I'm glad to have him back. Fact is, this sorry rock we call Earth would be screwed without him.