Can't Find My Way Home.

Well, That's One Way To Do It.

I look up into a set of deep green eyes that mirror my own. I know that my eyes must be as wide as his currently are. I try and form words, but nothing happens.

Whoa, wait. Could it really be him? I mean he looks exactly like my picture, just older. Does he know who I am? Did he know Bobby? How?

With the little bit of hope that I have, I stand up, grabbing the confused man's jacket violently. There is only one thing that matters right now and it's not who the hell this man is. I mutter, "Please. Tell me you know where he is."

I am met with an equally confused expression. He opens his mouth as if he is going to talk but his eyes grow wider, and he's obviously dealing with our likeness. I roll my eyes and try to get him to talk, "Yes I know we look alike, but where is Bobby?"

I shake his jacket, which pushed a single horrifying word from his mouth, "Dead."

I let go of his jacket and stumble backward feeling the stabbing pain in my chest. I reroute the pain to help ignite my rage. A single thought pops in my head as everything falls into place "Dick Roman." Dean automatically answers "Yes."

I close my eyes as I feel the tears begin to prick behind my eyes once more "How?" I hear Sam's voice suddenly as he answers quietly "He got captured, Dean and I went in and got him, but Dick shot him as we got back into the van."

My body shook violently with this new information but only one thing mattered at that moment; you looked Dean in the eyes "You killed him." Dean answered with a single nod.

I nodded asking "Did he suffer?" This time Dean answered "He was in a coma. He came to, helped us save the world and passed on. He's in heaven now. Don't worry, we made sure."

I closed my eyes, as I felt the tears come down my face. I felt a hand on my shoulder but I jerked away. I didn't want to be consoled right now, I wanted to be alone. My feet carried me out the door.

I feel my body start to shake uncontrollably as I feel the cool autumn air hitting my face in a whoosh. I can feel my body start to hyperventilate. I need Bobby. Please, come back to me. I can't breathe. My lungs have seemed to stop working. There is a strange man in Bobby's living room, that looks a lot like my biological father . . . But it can't be my biological father.

I lift my hand to my eyes and hold my eyelids down, trying to make sense of all this. I can't deal with this, not without Bobby. I mean I always dreamed about meeting the man who fathered me, but Bobby was always right beside me. Every single scenario I came up with, Bobby was always involved somehow.

I hang my head. Can this be real? Is this actually happening? His letter drifts through my mind. I rip it out of my pocket. Reading it once more.

'October 15, three PM. Do NOT be late. Bring your gun, and stash your knife in your pants just to be safe, you might need it. Be there. –Bobby.

I growl at the plain white paper. What the hell? What in the hell did that old man do? Did he track down my father and arrange a meeting? That stupid sneaky son of a bitch. I need to get out of here.

Thoughts of getting in my car and driving off cross my mind, but I notice that a car is pulled in behind mine. Well, that's just great. I can't even leave.

I look at the two cars and something from the back of my mind whispers, "It will help you figure some stuff out." I run to my car and grab the picture from my duffel. Oh. Goddamnit Bobby. Bobby's Sam and Dean, are MY Sam and Dean. Oh if he wasn't dead I'd kill him.