I wish I owned them. I don't. That's why I write fan fiction.
A/N: Gah. This has been playing in my head over and over and I really need to get it out. Oh, and yeah, it just kinda grew into this. Morphed into something I couldn't control. Do hope you enjoy my version of when Bobby met the Winchesters.
Bobby Singer sighed as he put his phone down. He just got a call from his friend Pastor Jim Murphy. Got a newbie hunter going around learning all he can. And of course Jim sent him to Bobby. Bobby was the best with demons. He knew everything. Or near as. And Bobby was fine training a newbie. Nothing new there. He trained all sorts of hunters. But this one has got kids. Two of them. Two little boys. Five and One.
He ran his eyes about his house. It was not child proof. He didn't have any toys. And he was not letting them near his books. They would probably completely wreck them. Tear them apart. And if either of them went towards the cars outside. . .
And food. God. He was going to have people - three people - in his house. He'd need to get food. Bobby started making a list in his head as to what he needed to do before the Winchesters came. The new hunter and his two sons. He had tried to talk Jim into keeping the sons there. But no. John wouldn't go anywhere without his sons. Bobby ran his hand over his face. He only hoped that John could keep his kids in line. Unlike a lot of people. Whenever Bobby went out he often found a parent at the end of their ropes. Because of their kid. Their kid. Couldn't even keep their kid settled down. Bobby hoped John wasn't one of those parents.
So, a few days later Bobby had his house looking better. More organized. And stock piled with food. All sorts of food. He had no idea what the family liked to eat. He also got blankets out and put into the spare room where they'd sleep. Extra pillows for the boys. This was as child proof as it was every going to be. And when he heard the rumble of a car outside, he just knew. Knew it was them.
He stepped outside to be greeted by a '67 Impala. One thing was for sure, John had a great car. This put Bobby more at ease. He could usually trust a man with a classic. He saw the man behind the wheel as the car engine was turned off. He looked worn out. Probably was. Just lost his wife and had two kids. Not to mention finding out about demons. The man got out and opened the door for his kids. Out came a small five year old with freckles that spotted his face. Green eyes downcast. Smallish frame. Fragile looking. And in his arms was a small baby. One year old. Already had a mess of hair. And a smile. Damn that smile would win hearts of all the women that boy came in contact with.
Bobby watched as John nodded to the five year old. The boy put the one year old on the ground and held the baby's hand as they slowly made their way to the porch. Five year old took care of the one year old. Helped him walk.
John nodded as they got closer, "Mr. Singer?"
Bobby nodded, "You must be John Winchester."
"That's right." John waited for his two kids to stand beside him, "This here is Dean and Sammy." He put a hand on Dean's head as he said his name.
Dean kept his gaze down. Something about him just seemed. . . Muffled. Like he was hiding. From what, Bobby could only imagine. The kid seemed scared. Secluded. Blank and vacant.
Sammy on the other hand, upon hearing his name looked up a grinned ,"Hi!" he said happily. He kept a hold of Dean's hand. He seemed as if he didn't want to let go. As if he was afraid to let go. Maybe if he let go then Dean was disappear. Bobby felt his heart instantly go out to the family.
He took them inside and showed them around. Their room. Bathroom. Kitchen. Gave a few rules. What not to do. What to do. He make sure the boys understood that the cars were off-limits. And not to mess with his books. He was wondering if the quietness of the boys was only because they were being polite. Well really, it wasn't 'boys' it was 'Dean'. Sammy just kept talking. Not really talking. But just saying things. Noises. Seemed to have a conversation of his own. Made Bobby smile. Kid was cute.
Dean didn't really do much. Kept an eye on Sammy. Watched for his dad. Stayed out of the way. And so far, Bobby had yet to hear the kid's voice. Maybe he was just shy.
But dinner time, they all sat around a table. Sammy switched from using his spoon to his hands. Even would pick up the food with his hand and put it in his spoon. Then moved his spoon to his mouth. Dean ate about half of what was on his plate.
Bobby saw the worried look on John's face as he watched the elder of the sons eat, "Hey Dean, want to try another bite?" John asked, quietly. Dean didn't move. Except his breathing. John smiled sadly, "Okay. You did good though, Dean." With that the small boy got up and picked up his plate, fully intending on cleaning up for himself, "S'okay. I can get that for you, son. How about you go and color in our room?" The boy put down his plate and walked into the other room.
In the middle of Sammy's monologue he sighed, "Dada. Dea." He motioned with his hand where Dean went. John nodded and the little guy got out and made his way towards his brother.
"I don't want to seem rude-" Bobby started.
"Don't worry about it. Ask anything you want." John said, leaning back in his chair.
"Is Dean-?" Bobby wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. Is Dean all there? Is Dean always like this? Does Dean have a mental ailment?
John licked his lips, "Dean hasn't said a word since his mom died." He swallowed, "Was murdered. Did Pastor Jim tell you what happened?"
Bobby swallowed, "He said that your wife was killed by a demon. House fire, right?"
John nodded, "I'm not sure how much Dean saw. He came into Sammy's nursery, worried. I gave him Sammy and told Dean to go. M-Mary was on the ceiling. Burning.
"Sammy must have slept through it. He is just a normal kid." John glanced at the unfinished plate of Dean's, "Did you know this is probably the most I've gotten him to eat at one meal?"
Bobby was speechless. Well this certainly explained Dean's behavior. The small boy who seemed to want to be smaller. He knew he didn't have to worry about Dean getting out of control. He was worried still. Worried for Dean.
That night Bobby heard a yell come from his guest room. He had no idea what it would be. Demon? Spirit? He opened the door and saw Dean. Dean was holding onto Sammy. Sammy who just stared up at Dean. Worry in the one year old's eyes. And Dean was in John's arms. Worry in the father's eyes. Dean's face was vacant. Empty. He just held. Held onto little Sammy. Pushed himself further into John's arms.
Bobby soon realized that Dean got nightmares at least once a night. That Dean didn't acknowledge anyone except Sammy and sometimes John. Dean'd color. Watch his brother. Do nothing. Just sit. Not eat. Man, it was so hard to get the kid to eat. Get the kid to sleep. But Dean watched over Sammy. Often John could just leave Sammy in Dean's care.
Sammy was one who never stopped talking. Even though most of the time he wasn't really saying anything. Very cute. He would watch over Dean just as Dean watched over him. He knew when Dean needed to be comforted. Sammy never went far from his brother. Kept out of trouble. Had a quick smile.
And Bobby found the boys in his heart. He tried to not get attached with them. But over the months of them staying there, he couldn't help it. He loved them. And grew to love John as a brother. God loved that idiot. So did Bobby. So, when it came time for the three Winchesters to go, Bobby didn't really want them to leave.
"Bye Sammy." Bobby said, hugging the small innocent child, "You behave now, ya'hear?"
Sammy giggled, "Bye Bob!" He said with one of his winning smiles.
Bobby got on his knees, in front of Dean, "Hey Kiddo." He was amazed that Dean actually made eye contact. And in those eyes, Bobby saw horror. Fear. Sadness. Bravery. Eyes that were well beyond his short years, "Gonna miss ya, Dean."
Dean's eyes shot to the ground, then back up to meet Bobby's smiling eyes. He then looked at Sammy. And Bobby knew that was the best goodbye he had ever had. And he doubted, that he would never get one that great again.
So, Bobby stood up and walked over to John, "Hey, Johnny. You'd better take care of those kids of yours."
John glanced at his boys, "I don't know how I could ever do otherwise. Thanks for everything."
Bobby nodded, "Now if you need anything, you'll call me right away." And here he rattled off his phone number.
So, Bobby made his goodbyes to the Winchesters and wondered when he would see them again. Surely it'd be at least a few months. But he couldn't wait until then.
Weeks later, Bobby was sitting in his house. He wasn't doing much, mainly thinking. Wondering. What was going on in other hunter's lives. Caleb? Pastor Jim? Winchester boys? When his phone rang. He picked it up, "Hello?" He said gruffly.
Though Bobby had never heard the voice before. He knew exactly who was calling, "Dean?" Panic in his voice.
"Dad's hurt." A small wavier in the smaller voice.
"Where are you?" Bobby was already up and getting things together.
"Rest In Peace Inn. Room 8." Then he gave the name of the town. And with that Dean hung up the phone. Bobby tried not to think of irony in the name of the hotel as he ran to his car. He only hoped he wouldn't be too late. Thanking is lucky stars that the town was only 'bout an hours drive. Which he made in 'bout half that time.
He knocked on the door of room 8, "Dean? It's Bobby."
The door swung open and Bobby marched in. He looked around the room. Sammy was asleep. And small Dean grabbed Bobby's hand. Grabbed his hand and lead him over to John. John was in a bed. Head wound. Bleeding bad. Seemed to be breathing shallowly. Favored his right side. Dean was staring at his father. Wide-eyed. Worried eyes.
"You did good Dean. Calling me." Bobby didn't get a reaction. Not that he was expecting one, "You did good." He repeated, "Dean, have you got a first aid kit?"
Dean got up and went over to John's bag, he reached down and knew exactly where it was. Bringing it over, he laid it on the bed. Then his gaze when back to John.
Bobby set to work. He stitched up the cut on John's head and lifted up the shirt. His chest was bruised. Bobby felt around on John's torso. Causing the father to moan in pain. Which made Dean glare at Bobby. If it were in different circumstances, Bobby would have laughed. Laughed at Dean's glare. Glad to get some recognition.
"It's okay, Dean. We've gotta wake your dad up to make sure he doesn't have a concussion." Bobby said.
Dean nodded, "Been waking him once an hour."
Bobby jumped at the sound of the small voice. His throat tightened. Dean was talking. "Yeah. That's what you do if you are worried about concussions. Wake the person every hour." He paused, "How did you know that." Only response was a small shrug.
"John." Bobby said in his gruff voice, "You need to wake up." He prodded John. The eldest Winchester's eyes opened slowly.
"Bobby?" Question in his voice, "Whas'going on?"
"You're hurt, John. Dean called me for help." Bobby was not expecting that reaction.
John's eyes opened more. Large eyes. Shock, "He what?"
"Dean called me. On the phone."
"And he spoke?" John tried sitting up, eyes searching out for the boy, "You spoke?" Dean nodded, eyes brimming with tears. John smiled. His boy spoke. And he was doing his best to stay awake. It was easier now. Though his side hurt like a bitch, "Dean? How did you know Bobby's number?"
Bobby's eyebrows shot up. He had never thought of that. How did the boy know? He turned to the kid, awaiting an answer. If they were ever going to get one. And it seemed as if they weren't going to get one, so Bobby filled John in that his ribs were bruised. Possibly cracked. John nodded, agreeing. That would explain the pain in his torso.
The adult's eyes shot towards the boy. John held back his tears. Dean was talking. He was really talking. He reached his arm out and placed it on Dean's shoulder. "Remembered what, son?"
"The number." Dean's voice cracked. His throat hurt. Felt raw. Dried out.
Bobby got up and grabbed a glass of water, "You should drink this, kiddo. You're throat has gotta hurt from all this talking." He smiled. All this talking. Yes, Indeed. "My number?" Dean nodded. He was participating in a conversation. "When I told it to your dad?" Another nod, "How'd you remember that?" A small shrug.
"Listen." Dean said quietly, "I listen."
Bobby thought of that. He could only imagine how much that boy learned from listening. He could only imagine all the people - including himself - who spoke in front of Dean. Not thinking anything of it. Kid wasn't there. Didn't speak. Acknowledge anyone. Could say anything in front of Dean. He wouldn't tell anyone. But he listened. What did Dean know? Through all of his time listening quietly? How much was told in front of him?
Heck. If John knew. If he knew that his injuries would get his son to talk again, he would have gotten hurt ages ago. He chuckled at that thought. He'd get hurt? To save his son? Of course. He'd die to save either son. In a heartbeat. He felt his eye lids droop. He forced them open, staring into Dean's green eyes. He smiled, "You did good, Dean."
"Go back to sleep John. We'll wake you in an hour." Bobby said, forcing the new hunter to sleep. As John slept, he had a smile on his face, forgetting about all the pain he was in. Bobby turned and looked at Dean, "Do you know what happened to your dad?"
Dean nodded slowly, "Demon."
A demon? Bobby tensed up, had John been able to exercise it? He glanced around the room to find John's journal opened to a exorcism. He picked it up and glanced down. It was a good one. It'd work easily enough. "He get rid of it?" Dean shook his head. It was still around? Bobby saw a small salt circle in the middle of the room, "What happened?"
"Followed him." Dean took another drink of water. It felt good to be talking again. And he needed to tell Bobby what happened. So that he can help his dad. "While it was hurting dad. Put a salt ring down. Around it." He swallowed, "I'm quiet. I listen."
Bobby nodded. Okay, smart kid. Trapped the demon in a salt ring. Amazing that the demon didn't notice a kid trapping it. Dean was quiet enough. All the attention was on John. Because what could a five year old kid do? Listen. "Then what, Dean?"
"I read dad's Journal." Dean was watching his dad. Eyes hardly ever leaving him. Once in a while they'd glance at baby Sammy. Sammy just kept sleeping.
"You read it out loud?" Bobby asked, surprised. Dean nodded, "You read Latin? How do you know how to pronounce Latin?"
"I listen." Seemed Dean did that a lot, "People taught Latin to Dad. I listen. Remember." He took another drink of water.
"You got rid of the demon?" Bobby asked, shocked. Dean only nodded. Did John know what his kid did? How brave? How strong? Bobby suddenly grabbed Dean and held him close. He could feel a hitch in Dean's breath. Was John unconscious when Dean saved them? The way he acted earlier, Bobby guessed no. Did John think Bobby got rid of the demon?
Then a thought occurred to Bobby. Demons really do not like to be exercised. They tend to fight back, even contained in a circle of salt, they still had powers. And after John was unconscious, and the boy turned out to be a threat.. Bobby glanced down at the boy in his arms, "Dean. Are you hurt?" The boy didn't acknowledge him. Bobby took that as a yes. He sat the kid down on the bed, "Can I see?" Dean glanced at his dad, "You're dad is fine. We need to take care of you now." Dean nodded in consent.
Bobby lifted Dean's shirt and glanced down at the small frame. Damn, the kid was bruised. No wonder his breath hitched when Bobby hugged him. He hurt the boy. Bobby mentally berated himself. Kid took on a demon pretty much by himself. "How bad does it hurt?"
"Doesn't." Dean said, face vacant. He shut out the pain. Wasn't important. Dad was important. Sammy was important. Him? Nope. He didn't ever do anything anyway. He watched. He listened. He remembered.
Bobby knew that was a lie, "Okay, kiddo. If you say so." He got out the aloe jell and rubbed it over the small torso. This stuff healed things well. Got rid of bruises quicker. All around, Bobby was fond of it. Fond of the Winchesters as well. When he was done fixing the small boy up glanced at him, "You should probably get some sleep, kiddo."
Dean shook his head, "Dad." He glanced at the clock. Then Dean walked up to his dad and started poking and prodding him.
John mumbled something, "Dean? Hey." He smiled. Remembering what happened last time he was awake. "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep yourself?" He glanced at Bobby, knowing that was the exact same thing his friend had been thinking, "Bobby can watch me, son." John patted the bed on the side that didn't hurt as much, "Why don't you come sleep next to me."
Dean simply crawled into bed and curled up next to his father. He fell right to sleep. Feeling safe near his father. John watched his kid sleep, and so when he was sure Dean was out - at least for a bit, he glanced at Bobby, "What happened?"
Bobby had a sort of shocked smile on his face, "Dean. Dean happened, Johnny. Kid exercised the demon."
John's eyebrows shot up, "No. He couldn't have. Dean doesn't know Latin, Bobby."
"Apparently he does." Bobby said, "Kid is smart."
John chuckled quietly, "You know, I was jealous of you. You were the first one to hear my kid talk again. But you say it was a demon who heard his voice first?" Bobby nodded, "Now I'm not jealous. Just proud."