Author's note: I really like the idea of demon!Dean and Bobby meeting and decided to write it.

Enjoy and please review.

He had no idea why he was back, and he couldn't even remember Heaven, although he could certainly remember Hell. Story of his life.

But he wasn't going to question it when he had just woken up on a park bench, people running to and fro, going to work without sparing him a glance. Two suits nearly started throwing punches because they had run into one another and spiller their coffee. He was back alright.

His first thought was that he needed to find the boys. He didn't know where he was, though, and he didn't have money or a phone.

He felt dizzy as he stood up. He would have to find out where he was, and then steal some guy's wallet to get something to eat and drink. His knees felt weak when he took his first steps. Maybe he should go for the money first.

The two guys in suits were still arguing and grabbing both their wallets was way too easy. He moved towards the café he could see at the end of the street and was soon sitting in a booth, nursing a cup of black coffee and eating breakfast. He made sure no one was looking before grabbing the salt and testing it on himself. He had no reaction, which was good. He didn't want to go all zombie and start eating folks. He'd still have to check silver and holy water, but not reacting to salt was a good sign.

He felt better once he had eaten, and before leaving he hit the head and checked his reflection to make sure he didn't look any different. No, still the same old hunter who'd died God knew how long ago.

Whoever had brought him back had even put his cap on his head, without the bullet hole that should have been there after the son of a bitch shot him.

Now that he could walk without staggering, he had to find the boys. So where was he?

He grabbed a newspaper from a stand not far from the café.

He was stumbling around in Chicago. At least he wasn't in the middle of nowhere.

When he saw the date, he almost let the paper drop.

He had died over two years ago. He'd ghosted around for a while and spent some time in Hell, sure, but still. He'd died over two years ago.

That meant two years the boys had been fighting alone, with no one to look after them.

What if they were –

No. They were Sam and Dean. They always found a way out. Hell, they didn't even stay dead. He only had to find them.

It wouldn't be easy if they didn't want to be found, and they most likely didn't. So he checked into a motel. On the way, he got a burn phone.

He didn't expect anything out of calling them, and he was right. The numbers he remembered were long out of use. The same with other hunters he tried to call.

He wondered who picked up the phone when a police officer wanted to know if the agent who was investigating his case was the real deal. Maybe he could do that again. After he had found the boys. That was what was important right now.

He went out and bought more salt, as well as a silver knife and a rosary. He had to make sure he was himself before he stumbled back into their lives.

He tried everything, and it was somewhat of a relief that he reacted to nothing. But he remembered Karen. He would have to wait a few days before he could consider himself human.

That didn't mean he couldn't spend the days doing research, however.

He went to the nearest internet café, where they had thankfully still computers with buttons. He had to look for cases.

There were a few possible monsters and hauntings out there, but nothing that seemed like it would catch the boys' attention. Things seemed to be remarkably quiet. He didn't know what to think of that.

Then he found the omens.

Lightning storms, power cuts. Widespread enough that they didn't attract attention, but they told him enough.

A demon. And a powerful one at that. They boys would be on his trail.

He was absolutely sure that they had seen the signs just as he had.

He was concerned that they didn't have the Colt anymore, looking at the destruction some of the storms had caused. Whoever this demon was, he wasn't likely to let them get near enough with the knife to kill him.

Was it Crowley? No, the King of Hell knew how to cover his tracks. This demon – if he was as strong as it looked, he should too. Maybe he didn't care. That was dangerous. If he didn't care about that, he was likely out to have fun, and that was never good news with a demon.

First things first. If the boys were tracking this thing, they must be about –

About a nine hour drive from him. It could have been worse.

Reluctantly, he decided that he couldn't go immediately. Aside from the fact that he had to wait to make sure he wasn't going to turn into a zombie, he needed some clothes, some ID and some money first.

At least this whole I-am-not-sure-if-I-am-going-to-eat-brains thing gave him enough time to get equipment. Otherwise he'd have hotwired a car and been on his way.

He still did that, he had to have a transport, but he also snatched some other plates and made it demon-proof.

The next day, when he woke up in his motel room and realized that he had slept, he quickly went to work again instead of crying from relief.

He assembled a small arsenal – he always knew where to go to get a weapon, it came with being a hunter – bought a few clothes, a suit among them, and made a few IDs. He could add others if the need arose, but he hoped that it wouldn't take that long to find the boys.

After five days, he decided that he could go. Apparently he was human. He barely felt the relief he had the first time he woke up anymore; he was too focused on finally getting on the road. It was good to know that he wouldn't go postal and all, but he had to know what these two idjits had been up to since he had left.

He drove as quickly to Kingsport as he could, while being careful of the speed limit. He wasn't keen on spending his new life in jail for stealing a car.

By the time he got there, he was too tired to commence the search immediately. Why couldn't who ever brought him back have made him a little bit younger?

He found a motel room and went to sleep. The next morning, he decided that the best place to look might be the yellow pages. Sam and Dean had their own system, and they changed it often enough, but he had practically raised these boys, and he'd be damned if he couldn't find them.

There were several things they made sure of. The room had to be easy to defend, easy to leave. And it would be practical to have a diner nearby. Or a supermarket. Or anything that served pie.

Bobby went through three pages before he found a motel that he considered fitting, and just as he was about to investigate, the news came on the radio and he heard that another lightning storm had passed over a town about two hours away last night, mysteriously disappearing afterwards, leaving two dead.

He should have paid attention to the news. It fit with the other omens, which meant Sam and Dean would be gone by now.

He didn't allow himself to get angry, immediately hitting the road again.

He made it in one and a half hours, his impatience winning over his need to be careful with a stolen vehicle.

He did have something to investigate, at least, and he went to the PD immediately. He didn't care that it was already late, not when he was close.

The sheriff seemed bored and cranky, and it wasn't long before he found out why.

"Why is the FBI investigating thunderstorms anyway?"

"We just want to be – "

"Thorough, I know. That's what the other guy said."

"Other guy?"

"Agent... what was his name... really tall – "

"I know him" Bobby said quickly, because he could only mean Sam. He was in town. That was good news. It wasn't unusual for the boys to split up, so he didn't think much about it and instead found a motel. He would do the round tomorrow – with two people that could potentially be just as well be victims of the storm and the demon, with all the injuries they had, it was difficult to tell what they had died from, they weren't going anywhere soon.

He would find his boys, and they'd go from there.

The next morning he was lucky. The second motel fit all criteria, and the receptionist confirmed that there was "a big guy" living in the room nearest to the emergency escape.

It was disconcerting that he lived alone, and Bobby went to the room with a sinking feeling in his gut.

But nothing, no feeling, no premonition could have prepared him for picking the lock and stepping in the room, only to see Dean, a blade in his hand and his eyes black.

"Hi, Bobby".