Authors Note: Got this idea after my friend vampireluvr15 was sick and thought it would be sweet as a short little one shot. Not my usual character concentration but I do love the relationship Bobby has with Sam, Dean and now Cas (before all that was ruined of course by the S6 finale *sighs*) so I figured what the hell. Nice little side project. Can be considered S7 canon AU or beyond if we do get to see my favorite show go that far. Enjoy.
Written: 11 August 2011
Word Count: 2000+
Content: NO SLASH. (God knows I read it though…and now apparently write it.)
Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
Characters: Bobby, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not possess any legal rights to anything to do with this series especially its characters. I'm sure we are all aware of that but this fact must always be noted due to this websites guidelines.
Title: My Three Boys
Summary: One Shot. 1 former angel, plus 2 hunter brothers, and 1 simple bug equals 3 cases of flu and 1 Bobby Singer to deal with it all. This ought to be fun.
"The love a father has for his children is insurmountable. The responsibility of caring for them is his obligation. The want to protect them is even more so. The need to guide them is probably the most important. But even when said children are not of his blood, those instincts never change, and his love for them can never be broken. Not even in the most grim of circumstances. Nor the messiest, annoying or downright infuriating. No matter how much that's challenged, his views will always be the same. He is still their father, and they are still his kids."
anonymous-unknown (b. 1988)
If you ever asked Bobby Singer if he had any children, he'd probably tell you no. Technically, he wouldn't be lying to you. But for those who knew Bobby, they would know that answer by heart, only because they knew the man that many rarely ever got to see. His answer to said question would be simple. "Three, all boys."
Dean. Sam. And Cas.
Two hunters, one former angel, and all made for one very interesting family. Then again, how could you not consider a man who died for his brother and went to Hell, a man who used to carry demon blood and braved against the Devil, and a man that used to have wings and was once a warrior of God not interesting in the least. They were a unique combo, and seemed to fit each other like nothing Bobby had ever seen. Not in his many years did he ever think he'd find himself the witness of such indestructible ties.
In all honesty, when it came to children, Bobby always wanted to have one of his own, but fate just didn't allow him that in this life. At least not in the idea he had expected. Instead of bringing them to him, fate brought him to them. She brought him to Sam and Dean Winchester, hunters, sons of John and Mary, and soon enough to Castiel, former soldier and angel of the Lord. Count that up, and you had three very different, very unique boys he called his sons. Through thick and thin he had their backs, and through Hell and high water, they had his. It was hard not to care about them. Even when they fucked up the world, put themselves through nightmares, got themselves killed, sacrificed themselves and even screwed themselves over, Bobby never thought twice about what instinct always told him. To take care of these boys, no matter what.
This just so happened to be one of those moments (though not in a "facing the end of the world" type deal, thank God). He was getting far too old for that crap.
A simple case had led the hunters to a hospital, where the brothers spoke to witnesses and the angel interacted with the children from the pediatric ward. Unfortunately for them, said angel was now human, and susceptible to illness just like any one of them. It started with a sneeze, which turned into a runny nose, which upgraded to a fever and led to a hacking cough, aching lungs, and shivering limbs. A case of the flu, which would pass onto Dean, who would give it to Sam, and would leave Bobby to pick up the pieces.
Hence the problem in which he currently had on his hands.
Castiel had gotten it first, the former angel now passed out in his bed while Bobby wrung out the washcloth and placed it back on his forehead. It had now been a week since he had fallen prey to the bug now circling the household, but nowhere was it yet finished ravaging his system. Bobby dumped the remnants of the now lukewarm water into the sink of the adjoining bathroom and went downstairs to refill it with more ice.
His next patient was Dean, sleeping flat on his stomach on the hunters living room couch, blankets half thrown off him and right arm hanging limply on the side. His nose was red from the constant blowing and lack of open airway, but Bobby had expected that. He had drugged Dean up to his limit, the oldest of the brothers being the biggest whiner when he was sick, and carefully replaced the covers back over him and left him to sleep.
Sam was the last unfortunate victim to catch this unpleasant ailment, the youngest of the three now curled on his side on the bed in Bobby's study, blankets pulled all the way to his chin and body shivering. Bobby quickly reached the linen closet and topped him with a quilt, placing a careful hand over his forehead and finding that the fever had only risen from the last time he checked it. He was still in the early stages, the virus coursing through his system hitting him the hardest and thus requiring more attention. Out of the three, it was Sam who had it the worst.
Bobby now had them and their specific needs down like clockwork. Sam required more covers and liquids. Dean required a bucket and tissues. And Cas, more rest and isolation. Considering that he was the one that caused it all, Bobby was more than happy to keep the former angel upstairs while the two brothers remained downstairs.
Bobby had been lucky not to catch it, the elder hunter remembering to get his damn flu shot when required while the three younger occupants of the house merely shrugged the idea off. In his oh so pointless but obviously wise words (this was Bobby after all), Who had the last laugh now, idjits.
Bobby went to refilling the bowl for Cas in the sink, adding more ice cubes and fresh washcloths from the kitchen pantry. He went to filling up more glasses of water and electrolyte drinks for Sam, intending to force them down his throat whenever he decided to wake up. Last but not least, he picked out a new box of tissues for Dean, the hunter wasting the previous box pretty quick and already requiring another.
He went back to the study, placing the glasses on his desk before heading to the living room and placing the box of tissues on his coffee table, before going back upstairs to the bedroom and placing the bowl of water on the nightstand. It was now routine, treating the most severe cases and leaving the manageable ones for last.
At least, that had been the plan.
Castiel was experiencing his first real time being sick, and so kept seesawing from good to bad to okay to worse within a matter of days. Dean had been helping to care for him when he came down as well, and was soon enough out of commission. Then came Sam, who tried his best to hide his symptoms until Bobby convinced him it was pointless, the youngest of the three finally going down too, and going down hard. So hence was the pattern. Cas catching it in the hospital, giving it to Dean who gave it to Sam and leaving Bobby to clean up the mess, literally.
Castiel was now on his seventh day, and Bobby was sure that he was bound to go through another seven before it finally went away. Dean was on his fifth, but he looked to be doing much better than he had previously (probably from the massive amount of drugs that Bobby had plunged into him. Again, whiner) and Bobby knew that he would be back on his feet within the next couple of days. As for Sam, he had been bedridden for only four days, and Bobby was more than confident that Cas would pass it before he did, given his state. Still, Bobby couldn't help but feel sorry for all three of them. And who wouldn't. They were all downright miserable.
It had been a week of water, medicine, chicken soup and bed rest, and Bobby couldn't wait for it all to be over.
As he had suspected, Dean was the first to start recovering after just a couple more days, experiencing dizzy spells and nausea on occasion, but still much better off than the other two. Plus, he was the only one actually able to stand, or be conscious for that matter. Cas looked to finally be passing it as well, his fever finally breaking at the end of the tenth day, and stabilizing around 102 for another two before finally dropping on its own. Sam on the other hand was another story as expected. The youngest of the three was still experiencing persistent fevers, violent shakes and even extreme dehydration, causing Bobby, Dean and now even Cas to force him awake at times just so he could get some fluids into his system. This flu was just not letting him go, and after almost two weeks with the ailment, Bobby thought it may have finally been time to take him to the hospital to flush the damn thing out.
Thankfully, the issue never came to that as on the eve of his fifteenth day of being sick, his fever finally broke and Sam was able to stay conscious long enough to eat, shower, and even talk a little with his brother, former angel and father figure. It wasn't for long though, as tiredness eventually took claim over him again and he promptly fell back to sleep. His next few days were spent almost exactly the same way and after three weeks of seeing nothing but the inside of Bobby's now claustrophobic study, Sam finally managed to take himself out of the house without any issues.
This had been his longest run in with the flu in a very long time, and Bobby could only be happy that it was finally freakin' over.
The boys spent the majority of their time for the next week at his house, not wanting to get back to routine too quickly should any of them catch something else to bring down Team Free Will. The past three weeks had been a God forsaken nightmare, and the three of them just wanted to have a little bit of peace before succumbing to chaos once again.
Bobby wished for the same thing, and even though he didn't admit it, he felt that he had just that with all three boys goofing off, horse playing and just hanging out together as the not so simple, dysfunctional family and band of brothers that they were. Bobby couldn't ask for anything more really, his life feeling just a little more complete with having them around. Even with their problems, their troubles, their doubts and their fears, Bobby always felt that those boys were his responsibility and his to take care of and keep standing. No matter what. He had made himself good at a lot of things over the years: hunting, research, supernatural shenanigans, but it seemed that being a parent to those three boys was what he cherished most. It was his greatest treasure, his most cherished moments in life now, and even when they brought the most difficult of situations and most complicating of circumstances, Bobby couldn't complain.
Sure they may deliberately get themselves into trouble from time to time during hunts, cause mayhem for him and their loved ones, and even jumpstart freakin' Armageddon and whatnot, but in the end, none of that mattered to him. He cherished them. He would even go as far as saying that he loved them, even if he didn't say it. Besides, he would tell himself, it's not like they didn't already know. Bobby chose to be that rock for them. To be there for them. To be the father the three of them never really had, and he found that he actually appreciated it. Dealing with them when they were sick, hurt, dying, in trouble, or just plain out exhausted from life or with each other, well, it comes with the territory. So deal with it, he would say, or more colorfully, put up or shut up.
He never took for granted the opportunity to be that for them. Again, not that he would admit it, but he did sometimes wish that they were around more often than usual. He would miss them when they were away, and always prayed that they were okay and taking care of themselves.
So what. It was natural as a parent to worry, psh.
Not even a week later, Bobby came down with the same thing they had and what a pain in the ass it was to have three mother hens and the roles reversed on him. He was literally on the verge of bolting himself shut inside his panic room. His only thought at having all three boys now trying to take care of him, "Damn it."
Be careful what you wish for.
Authors End Note: Love it? Hate it? You decide. Just really needed some more Bobby in my life (to quote zeppx XP) and so this popped into my head and then down on paper. You know what to do from here. Reviews are always fun and very much appreciated. Now onto my other stories that having been waiting because of my little one shot distractions. XD