This is chapter one of my new drabble series, which will be Bobby-centric. Gotta be honest. While this will definitely be Bobby-centric, I am unable to stay away from Sam for too long, so you can expect to see a lot of him in here as well. Especially considering what the story is about. Hope you all like it!



Bobby leaned down and patted Rumsfeld's bullet head. The big dog wagged his tail, grinning happily up at his master.

"Stupid dog," Bobby said fondly. Giving a dog a final pat, he went into the house, leaving the dog outside.

Going into the kitchen, he rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a container of chili. Sniffing it cautiously, he dumped it into a pan and set it on the stove over a low flame.

While waiting for dinner to warm, he flipped idly through the day's mail and stopped in surprise at an envelope postmarked Stanford.


My girlfriend Jess died three weeks ago. She burned on the ceiling. The police think I did it. They found out what happened to Mom, so they think I'm some kind of nut reenacting her death.

I ran before they could arrest me. Stupid, but I couldn't take the thought of being locked up.

Could you please let Dean and my dad know what happened? They changed their phone numbers so I can't call them myself. I'm sorry to bother you. I just thought maybe they'd want to know.

Thanks, Bobby.


Bobby dropped the letter onto the table. "Balls!"