Bobby figured he'd buried his chance of having kids when he buried his wife. He hadn't minded much, and liked being Uncle Bobby to another hunter's boys.
But now John was gone, and Sam and Dean pestered him for help more often than his junkyard dog asked to be fed. Bobby grumbled, but never thought of saying no, because those boys were his family; he was just never sure the boys understood it, till the time he got an aimless phone call on a summer Sunday afternoon. Just because, Sam said, like he didn't know a damn thing about lying.