Saying goodbye to a loved one is never easy. Never. But saying goodbye to the person that raised you, and made you the person you are? That's an entirely different type of hurt.

The internal thermometer of Melody Rose Singer's Mustang read 75°, but she'd never felt more cold. Hallow. Lost, even.

"Melody, it's Sam..." his voice seemed distant, and full of regret and urgency. "Bobby is in the hospital. He's...he's not looking good."

Melody had just finished a hunt with her best friend, Blair. "I-," she had pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen to make sure it was actually Sam. "I don't understand. I just spoke to him two days ago. What the hell happened?"

She was now half an hour out from the hospital, running on an hour of sleep. She didn't feel the exhaustion that was creeping over her shoulder. She couldn't feel anything.

"Mel..." Blair looked over to her from the passenger seat. "Let me drive. You look completely fried."

At the mention of potentially needing rest, Melody could just barely feel the sting of sleep deprivation in her eyes. "We're almost there." Her voice was monotonous. She was feeling every possible emotion, heightened. She was angry that Bobby turned her offer down to help hand the Leviathans. Probably because he knew just how dangerous what he was facing, was. More than anything she was anxious at the possibility that she might not make it to the hospital to say goodbye—this made her hit the gas harder.

She rushed into the room Bobby was in, with Blair on her heals. He was still alive. Barely, but he was alive. He grabbed Melody's hands as she rushed to him. They were prepping him for surgery. That had to be a good sign, right? "Everything is going to be fine," she assured him, nodding. She was painfully aware of the tears that were streaming from her red rimmed blue eyes.

Bobby gave her hands a squeeze, and a meaningful took that tells her all she needs to know. He loved her, but he couldn't fight anymore. He turned his head to Sam and Dean with knowing gazes. "You...you know what you...gotta do," he croaked out. "Idjits." He took a final breath and the heart monitor sang a steady tune that would surely haunt Melody for the rest of her life.

"No!" Melody squealed. Nurses tried to pull her back, but she wouldn't budge. She was screaming, begging for him to come back. It wasn't until a strong grip tightened around her waist, that she finally moved. Only because the figure was a bit stronger than her. At least at that moment. She could just barely tell was Dean by the sound of his voice whispering words that were laced with grief as well. If asked to repeat what he said, though, it would be impossible. She was in a trance. "Dad, please," she shrieked, shrinking to the ground. Dean didn't release his grip, only tightened. He was feeling all of the anguish, too. Bobby was more of a father than his own ever was, through most of his life.

"Time of death..."

Another sob escaped her lips as soon as the words filled the air. They covered his head with the sheets, offering their condolences to a devastated Melody.

None of the three trusted Melody to drive from the hospital. Hell, she didn't even trust herself. All Dean knew, was they had to get the hell out of Dodge.

Somebody had carried her out of the hospital—not without a fight, though—and put her in the backseat of the black Impala in the parking lot. "I'll, uh, ride with with Blair. Her backseat just isn't big enough to be comfortable," Sam's voice came from outside the car. They'd all been acquainted, then. "Where are we even going?"

There was a silence for a moment, as Dean contemplated his question. He wanted to hunt down Dick Roman right then, but Melody was in no shape to. Not yet. "To Bobby's," he nodded, looking inside of the car at Melody's frail looking body. "Give her some time to grieve. Give us all some time to. But Dick Roman will pay for what he's done."

The car dipped down as Dean sat down in the drivers seat. He looked back to an already sleeping Melody. Her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red. Mascara streaked down her face. The sight made his heart hurt all over again. He remembered how he felt with his own dad died...but Bobby? Bobby was good to Melody, better than he was to the boys and that was saying something.

He longed for the days that they would practice their shooting down in the fields behind Bobby's house. Sam didn't much care for it, but Melody and Dean were older, so he would sometimes tag along to feel 'cool'. Melody was fifteen at the time of his most fond memory of them. Dean had just turned seventeen, and little Sammy was thirteen and moody as hell. Dean had said something to piss off Sam's little pubescent brain and he'd stormed off. Melody was probably more pissed than Sam had been. She was always the closest with Sam, and extremely protective. At least in a brother sister kind of way. After Sam ran back to Bobby's house, Melody tackled Dean. Being the guy he was, Dean didn't mind a bit. They wrestled around in the twigs, Melody telling Dean how much of an ass he was, and Dean taking it easy on her. She was only fifteen, after all.

She surprised him, though, pinning him down despite actually putting up a fight. Her hands pressed his wrists to the ground, and her legs were on either side of his waist. "That all you got?" He'd taunted, wearing the smirk that just absolutely drove her crazy. He didn't know that, though. He was completely oblivious to how she felt, until that day, at least. She kissed him. He kissed her back.

Their dad came back from a hunt with Bobby the next morning, and the Sam and Dean left. Sam kept in touch, but Dean...he never did. It had been close to sixteen years since that day, and it can be counted on one hand how many times they'd seen each other. Occasionally, they'd cross paths on a hunt, but it never went past that.

Dean noted that she'd grown up a lot since then. Obviously. It'd been sixteen years. He was an asshole then, he knew that. She knew it just as well.

In her mind, it had all been a senseless one-way crush. That wasn't necessarily the truth, though. Somewhere along the way of watching her sit quaintly and impatiently in front of Bobby as Ellen Harvelle taught him how to do anything besides pigtails in the young girls hair, and that day in the field, he developed...feelings. They were a long time away from those days, though.

"So, Blair," Sam spoke from the passenger seat of Melody's car. "What's your story?"

The small talk caught Blair slightly off guard. Melody was the only person that she was with on a daily basis, so small talk was a thing of the past. "Um, well," she started, chuckling nervously. "Surprisingly, I wasn't born a hunter. I'm a nurse, actually. I know that's a bit unorthodox and whatnot, but Bobby actually trained me six or so years ago, I'd say it was. Melody and I have been traveling everywhere. That girl is a natural."

So it's been at least that long since I've seen Melody. Sam thought to himself, tuning back into Blair.

She was pretty. Under different circumstances, she might've made his jaw drop to the ground at first sight, type of pretty. Her hair was an ashy blonde color, wavy, stopping right at her shoulders. She'd been wearing a denim jacket, but after removing it, a black spaghetti strapped top completed the ensemble of jeans and Adidas'.

"How do you know Mel?" She asked inquisitively. She noticed Sam's eyes on her, but she didn't pay much attention to it. "She's mentioned you Winchester boys a few times, and I've caught her texting Sammy a few times—I'm assuming that's you. You wouldn't happen to be having a secret romance with my best friend, would you?" She was laughing, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity laced into the words.

Sam grinned, shaking his head. "Nah, definitely more on the sibling level with her," he felt the need to clarify that. "Now Dean, on the other hand..."

"I get the vibe they're a lot alike."

Sam nodded. "Always have been. They used to fight like cats and dogs," he chuckled at the thought. "Dean would be an prick to me, and Mel would kick his ass. It was pretty funny. We met when I was six or so. She was eight, Dean was ten. Our dad had dropped us off at Bobby's on his way to 'work'. He was gone for two weeks, at least. A month later, the same thing. When Dean turned twelve, though, we'd stay in the motels with dad. If it was a longer job, he'd drop us with Bobby and we'd get to see Mel. Trips to Bobby's grew to be few and far between the older we got. I was so glad to be out, once I graduated high school."

"Out?"

"Of hunting. I moved off to Sanford," he swallowed hard, recalling the events of telling his dad and Dean about his plans to move. "Dad was pissed. All but disowned me, and Dean felt betrayed." His shoulders shrugged. "I did what was best for me."

Blair nodded thoughtfully. "What brought you back into the life?"

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Blair almost feared she'd overstepped. Though, really, that's just who she was. "My girlfriend was killed by a demon," he admitted. "I felt like I needed to get revenge. That went for any and every monster out there."

"I'm sorry to hear that," her lips curved downward.

He nodded his head slowly. "Me too."

Every night that week, Melody woke up screaming. She'd seen Bobby's face as he was bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the head, asking why she didn't come to help him, why she just let him die. She saw him flatline on repeat. Dean was always right there with a baseball bat when she'd wake up. Salting windows and checking devil's traps repeatedly.

She thought it would never stop. Until the eighth night.

Bobby was there, in her dream again. This time, he was smiling at her. The warmest smile she would get every time she would walk through the door. "Hey, Darlin'," his voice was smooth and unwavering.

She was frozen, though. Overwhelmed by the desire to scream, cry, and wrap her arms around him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," her voice was shaking as more tears threatened to spill. "I should've gone with you. This wouldn't have happened. We would've been more careful."

Bobby moved closer to her, enveloping her in the most hyperrealistic hug. "There's nothing you'd'a been able to do," he murmured into her hair. "This is what was meant to happen." He pulled away and looked her in the eyes, leaving his hands to rest on her shoulders. "No more tears, you hear me? I'm gonna need you to keep those damn idjits in line, now that I'm gone."

Melody dipped her head, trying to fight off her tears. "I'll try."

"I love you, kiddo," he rubbed his calloused thumb over her cheek. "I need you to take care of yourself, and kill those damn Leviathans. Can't do that if you're starvin' yourself."

Melody hadn't necessarily been starving herself, she just had no motivation to eat...or drink...or shower."I love you, too," she nodded.

For the first time in a week, Melody woke on her own accord. She showered, and joined the group in the living room.

Instead of being dressed in a flannel of Bobby's and sweatpants, with a messy bun on her head, she actually made herself semi-presentable. She wore a red tank top with black ripped jeans, she brushed her hair—it only took twenty minutes—and added a light layer of mascara, allowing that to be her incentive not to cry.

"Hey," Blair cautioned, as if her friend were a ticking time bomb. "You hungry?"

"Starving." She smiled slightly in response to Blair. "We can discuss what you, dumb and dumber came up with to kill this son of a bitch."

After arguing for a good half hour, Melody grudgingly agreed to leave her car behind. "There's no need to bring two cars," Sam reasoned.

"Then leave Baby," Melody pressed her hands on her hips, challenging Dean.

He looked hurt at the suggestion. "No way, Baby's got a bigger back seat."

She was about to ask what that mattered, but the wriggling of his eyebrows was enough to answer her unspoken question. "God, you're insatiable," she mumbled, shoving past him, walking to her own car. Candy Apple red '85 Camaro. "I'll be back soon." She told the car, rubbing the roof. The guys grabbed their bags out of the trunk, earning a scoff from Melody. "We're capable of getting our own bags."

"God, you're insatiable," Dean mimicked her, setting her bags in the backseat.

He started to toss a backpack in the back, and Melody almost lost it. "Careful you oaf! Those are my road snacks."

Road snacks? A woman after Dean Winchester's own heart. More careful, he set the back in the backseat.

Blair climbed into the backseat first, and just as Melody was about to follow her, Sam stopped her. "You can have the front seat," he offered. "I didn't sleep much last night, so I won't be that great of a navigator."

Melody raised a curious eyebrow at the younger brother, but gestured him to go anyway. Melody joined Dean in the front seat with a huff. She wanted food. Fast.