Hello friends. Thanks for taking a look at this story. Been a while since I've uploaded something on this site and I'm a bit rusty, but I'm really glad to be back for however long it may last. I've had this story planned for years and I've finally got the first few chappies down. Here's the first one.

Say Your Prayers, Little One

Beginnings

"Goddammit, Bobby, why not!" Dean whined like a spoiled rotten seven year old. For two hours he'd been nagging Bobby to be his hunting partner only to be turned down like a pimple faced nerd. He sneered at the old man and his stubborn ways. "It'll only be a week long hunt. Something you can handle it in your sleep."

"Ya answered your own question," Bobby said, maneuvering around an in-the-way Dean. These were one of the many times Dean felt like that damn man's son. He was on him like a shadow, never letting up with his endless protests.

Spreading a thin helping of mayo onto a piece of pumpernickel, Bobby shook his head. "I got my hand's full with the other hunters who just like you all need my assistance. Like you said, this hunt shouldn't take longer than a week. You don't need me to do the damn job for you now do ya?"

"Depends, would you?" Dean slurped loudly on his flat beer. He took a seat at the small table in Bobby's kitchen and tried his best to keep from fidgeting impatiently. "Stop with the excuses, this is all so you can catch the Dr. Sexy marathon isn't it?"

"You caught me." Bobby's sarcastic tone was dry and uninterested."It's times I wonder how do you do it."

"This mystery partner you want to me with, what's she like," Dean asked.

"Fine."

"Because I'm telling you now Bobby, my name's not Uncle Buck okay – I'm not anyone's damn babysitter and if they're one flew over the-"

"Quit your moping, boy." Bobby carefully placed thin slices of tomato onto what looked to be the construction of a damn good sandwich. "Diem ain't a baby the doctor freshly slapped on the ass. If you don't like the hunters I give you tough. Grow a pair and suck it up or do it on your lonesome."

Dean sighed, partly because Bobby was right, partly because he didn't get offered a piece of that sandwich. It didn't even have to be a big piece, he would've accepted a small corner. "Just answer me one thing," he said, "is she a weird one?"

Bobby stiffened, shifting his eyes back towards his plate. Silence curled around them, tightening into a vice grip that left no room for squirming. Dean watched as the hunter folded under pressure. All his worries had been validated.

"That's it, we're nixing the plan for a new one. You're doing the hunt, I'm getting Sam." Jerking from his chair, Dean angrily marched from the kitchen to the living room. He didn't give a shit about What's Eating Sam Winchester, he wasn't going to deal with another under qualified hunter who'd only get in the way. "I'm not taking one for the team and getting dumped with some looney hunter."

"She ain't no weirder than the rest of us in the business," Bobby called, this time trailing after Dean. "Find me a hunter who isn't a little wacko and I'll get you an Angel-"

"Who wears trench coats and fails to grasp anything pop-culture related? Good. Tell Cas I need to talk to him."

"You know I'm not one to meddle in family affairs, but I like to think that after all these years I earned the right to do so with you boys," Bobby said. "You gotta let Sam have some breathing room. You two are with each other day in and day out, conjoined twins get more alone time than you two. It gets taxing on anyone."

True, maybe Sam did need some time by himself to regroup, but it was the way he went about things that'd struck a chord with Dean.

Sam told him he needed a week off from the job. Dean of course told his younger brother where he could stick his vacation and laughed it off before falling into an alcohol-induced sleep. The next morning he awoke up to both Sam and the Impala m.i.a..

Sam leaving was one thing, he always ran off when the heat in the kitchen got a little too hot for him, but taking the Impala was an act of war. There were things in this world that you just don't do. You don't drink beer before liquor, you don't mess with the Zohan, and you definitely don't touch the Impala. Sammy was daring Dean to try and find him. He was testing his manhood so to speak.

"Can you do me a solid and take the job or not?"

"Fine, I'll do the case for you," Bobby spat. "But no more, Dean. I'm serious. Your obligations don't get put on hold because you and your brother can't play in the sandbox nicely."

"I owe ya one."

"You can't just force him into in your car and hold him against his will, he's a grown man, Dean."

"Watch." Shrugging on his leather jacket, Dean fished for his keys in his pant's pocket. He smiled triumphantly at the tintinnabulation they made whilst he jingled them. "That's what older brothers do and I'd love to kick his ass if he tried to stop me."

Dean got into his 'car', a dingy pickup truck, with a one-track mind of hunting his brother down.

Wherever he was.