Bobby sat in front of a pile of books trying to read up on a symbol they had found branded on several victims of what the police were calling a "bear attack". He had been sitting there for hours, but had accomplished almost nothing, due to the constant bickering between the two oldest nine-year-olds he had ever seen. Sure, Sam and Dean were like sons to him, but they were quite a pain in the ass sometimes, and recently their fighting had become much, much worse.

"Would you two just shut it?" he yelled. There was a moment of silence while the incessant quarreling stopped, but it only took a second for the brothers to pick back up again. Bobby was exasperated. "That's IT! I'm done listening to you two idgits argue all the time! You've given me no choice. Next week, I'm taking you two to family therapy. I've already signed up for an appointment."

"WHAT!" They shouted in unison. "That is so not cool Bobby!" Dean yelled, his face reddening.

"Please tell me you're kidding?" Sam groaned. Bobby just shook his head angrily.

"Oh no, I am fed up you boys. You two are going to work out your damn problems if it kills me."

"Don't tempt me," Dean glowered, "And besides, just how do you expect to get us to go?"

"Well how about this? Don't go, and I'll key a nice little message into your precious Impala." Dean flinched at the thought.

"And what about me, huh?" Sam questioned. " I could care less about Dean's stupid car."

"Then I'll key your damn face. Point is, you two are going to be there."

"Why should we have to go if you aren't?" Sam whined.

"Oh I'm going. Someone's gotta be able to stop you two from killing each other, and it sure won't be any pansie psychiatrist."

Defeated, the boys stormed off, leaving Bobby to work in peace. Bobby sighed. "Dear God I hope this works."