Why We Fight
One Shot
Author: Lolly4Holly
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer
Summary: One Shot. My first Wee!chesters story. AU Pre-series piece. John Winchester has to leave his boys with a trusted friend, so he can find the demon that destroyed their lives. Glorified babysitter, Bobby Singer doesn't think it's his place to tell the man how to raise his boys, but he wants them to have some childhood memories that don't involve the things that go bump in the night.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy reading it!
~ Holly
It was another cold evening out in the middle of nowhere.
The Winchester boys had been forced to stay in their Uncle Bobby's hunting lodge, while their father was off on another mission. Their father, John Winchester usually told them some small detail about the mission he was leaving for, whether it was vampires, demons, ghosts or something worse, but he didn't tell them anything this time and he had been gone for four days already without so much as a phone call to let them know that he was alright.
Ten year old, Dean Winchester defied his father's wishes again, stepping out of the cabin door onto the decking outside. There was nothing to do in this cabin but watch boring old cartoons in black and white, mostly with static running across the screen that was starting to give him a headache. His Uncle Bobby really needed a new television, but it wasn't exactly one of his priorities at the moment. He was more concerned with keeping them safe while their father was away.
Dean clutched his jacket tightly around his shoulders, feeling a chilling breeze sweeping over him from the south. It had been like this for a few days now. He hated the cold. He didn't exactly like the hot summers either, but the cold was even worse. He couldn't go out and explore because it was too dangerous while Uncle Bobby was away and he still had to watch over his stupid little brother, Sam.
Bobby had left them to their own devices, while he was out picking up some more provisional's, so he was left in charge, again.
Speak of the devil.
"Deee-an! Dean. I'm still hungry." His little brother called out for him, stumbling through the cabin in his oversized pyjama bottoms, until he found him outside. "Daddy said we weren't allowed to leave."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm just standing here." Dean snapped back at him, pulling open the screen door behind him. He pushed past the little brat to get to the kitchen, grabbing one of the clean bowls from the counter to pour him some cereal. He pushed past him again to get to the fridge, sighing softly at the sight of the dribble of milk left in the bottle. "Did you drink all the milk last night?"
"I couldn't sleep." Sam shrugged it off, dropping to the sofa with the remote. He pointed it at the television, pushing a few buttons, until he found his favourite cartoons. "Dean, the TV is all wavy again." He complained about it for the hundredth time.
"That's not my fault. You'll just have to watch them like that. There's nothing I can do."
"When is Daddy coming back?"
"I don't know." Dean poured the dribble of milk over his brother's cereals, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. He carried it over to his brother, dropping it into his hands. "Eat up."
"Where's Uncle Bobby?" The boy barely acknowledged that he had given him something to eat.
Dean sighed, dropping to the sofa beside him. "I don't know. Just eat your cereal."
"It's too dry. I don't want dry cereal for dinner again."
"Well you shouldn't have drunk all the milk." Hearing the stone driveway crunching outside, Dean quickly got up, grabbing the shotgun loaded with salt rounds from the coffee table. He hurried over to the window, standing just behind the open drapes to see who it was. He stayed hidden until their intruder showed themselves, spotting a dog making its way up onto the deck. "Stay there." He warned his brother, cautiously making his way towards the door.
Sam scooted forwards off the sofa, setting his cereal bowl on the table in front of him. He watched his brother disappearing out the door, before he got up, taking a look out the window. He saw his brother pointing the gun out at something, looking as though he was ready to pull the trigger, but he couldn't see what Dean was looking at.
There wasn't anything there.
Lowering the gun to his side, Dean watched the dog sniffing around, before it lifted its gaze to meet his. He hadn't been around that many dogs growing up, but he could tell that it was a German Shepherd. She looked friendly enough with her long tongue dangling out one side of her mouth, panting softly, while her tail continued to wag.
"Good, girl." Dean ruffled his fingers through the dogs soft fur, looking for a collar or some tags, but she didn't have either. "Where did you come from?"
"She's actually a boy." A voice spoke back to him.
At first he thought it was the dog, but then he spotted a girl walking towards him. She had beautiful wavy sandy brown hair tied into pigtails either side of her head and dark chocolate brown eyes. He had never really spoken to girls before. He moved schools every few months, so he never thought it was worth taking the time to get to know anyone. He didn't have friends his own age. The only kid he ever got to play with was his kid brother and he spent most of his time being a stand in father to him, while their real father was away on business.
Dean quickly hid the gun behind his back, straightening up as she approached him in her sparkly blue cowboy boots. The bottoms were completely caked in mud, but the diamonds really sparkled in the morning sunlight. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt over the top, making him feel colder. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, shirt and a jacket, but he was still cold.
"What are you doing here?" Dean stopped her from walking any closer. He didn't see any other cabins on their drive over or any cars on the road, making him worry that she might have been some kind of demon.
"What are you doing here?" The girl turned the question around on him.
"This is my Uncle's cabin. We're just staying here for a few days, and I asked you first." He raised the gun, pointing it directly at her. "Don't take another step. What are you doing here? How did you find us?"
"I was just walking." She ignored the gun, casually strolling towards him. "Bobby Singer doesn't have any nephews."
"You know, Bobby?" Dean cocked an eyebrow in her direction.
The girl smiled, looking up at the cabin. "I should. I'm his daughter."
"Wha...?"
"Dean!" Sam called out to him from the cabin.
"Not now, Sammy. I'm talking." Dean spun around to see what he wanted, realising the girl in front of him had disappeared. He searched around for where she had run off to, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Even the dog had disappeared. There weren't any footprints, paw prints or anything, just a car slowly driving up the narrow driveway with their Uncle Bobby inside and the man looked pissed.
"Uncle Bobby." Sam jumped down from the deck, running towards the car bare footed. He waited for it to stop, before he lunged at the man through the open car door.
Bobby couldn't help but smile, relieved that the six year old still had the spirit of a child. He wished the same for Dean, but he was forced to grow up so fast. The hunter lifestyle really wasn't suitable for children, but it wasn't his place to argue with their father. "Back up, Sammy." He climbed out the car, placing his beat up old baseball cap down over the child's head.
Sam adjusted it to a more comfortable position, following the man around the side of his car. "Uncle Bobby, do you know when our Daddy is coming home?"
"Hopefully never if the idjit knows what's good for him." The man muttered, opening up the back of his car. "We should be expecting a phone call later. I'll let you know when he calls. Dean!" He called out to the other boy. "Dean, get over here and give me a hand." He watched the boy looking around confused, before he joined him round the back of the car. Bobby shoved a full bag of groceries towards him, noticing the shotgun in his other hand. "You hunting something, boy?"
Dean shook his head, shrugging his shoulders together. "I uh... I just thought I heard something. It wasn't anything though. Just the wind."
"Get these inside, I'll fix us something to eat." Bobby ushered him towards the house, suspiciously looking around the front yard. He knew people didn't grab a gun for just the wind, especially not a hunter. "Hey Sammy, do you think you can handle this one?"
The six year old dropped the stick he had been using as a sword, running to his side. He caught the bag in his little arms, giving the man a curious look. "What's with all the spices, Uncle Bobby?"
"Standard protection from the sons of bitches that haunt this world. Set that down in the kitchen, sport. I'll sort it out later." He sent him on his way, waiting until the children were inside the cabin, before he pulled out the extra weapons from his trunk. He stashed them around the house while the boys were looking through the food, getting excited over the box of pop tarts and chocolate chip cookies. Compared the spaghetti-O's they had been living off for the past few weeks, they were a welcome treat to their taste buds.
"Uncle Bobby, can we open these now?" Sam clutched the chocolate chip cookies box in his hands, giving the man a pleading look. Their father never allowed them to have treats. He never allowed them to do much really. They weren't allowed to invite their friends over. They weren't allowed to talk to other people about their lives or what their father did. They could talk to Uncle Bobby though and he treated them like children rather than soldiers readying for war, but he still missed his father.
"Yeah... go on then." The man sighed, stashing a shotgun filled with salt rounds beneath the sofa cushions. "Hey Sammy, gimme one of those." He perched himself on the edge of the sofa, smiling at the child as he presented him with the first cookie.
He rarely got to see children in his line of work. When he did, they were either dead or being trained by other hunters as soldiers for the endless war they found themselves in. He didn't agree with hunters training their own flesh and blood to fight the monsters in the dark, especially not a six year old and a ten year old.
Had they been his own children, he would do everything in his power to keep them away from this life. Growing up was hard enough without adding demons, monsters under the bed and things that wanted to kill them on a daily basis to their lives. They only got one shot at a childhood and John Winchester had already filled his kids childhood with hunting monsters and training them to face the yellow eyed demon that took their mother away from them.
He understood why the man wanted revenge, he just didn't understand why he would drag his young boys through the messy trail of revenge, which was exactly why he jumped at the chance to look after them. He wanted to give them as much normality as possible, until their father dragged them back into his mission.
"Uncle Bobby, you didn't get any milk." Dean presented him with the empty milk bottle and an angry scowl. "Sammy needs milk for his cereal."
"Oh..." The man munched on the cookie, realising he had forgotten to go back for it. "I'm sorry. Add it to the list, I'll head out tomorrow. I managed to pick up some books that you boys might like." He dug into the bag beside him, holding out the fairy tale stories to the youngest, rather than letting him read the real gruesome tales that he had lying around his cabin.
"Wow. Thanks, Uncle Bobby." Sam dropped back into the old recliner across the room, setting the box of cookies down beside him. He opened up the first of his new books, curiously flipping through the pages of the story, while Dean and Bobby prepared the cabin for another night.
"Something on your mind, boy?" Bobby handed him the salt for the windows, watching the ten year old staring out at the driveway as though something was out there. "That shotgun you grabbed earlier." He gave him a curious look. "What exactly did you see?"
"I said I heard something." Dean salted the window ledge, pulling the drapes closed on the last window. He jumped down from the chair he had been standing on, handing the box of salt back to Bobby. "Did you speak to my Dad?"
Bobby nodded his head, hiding a shotgun beside the front door. He turned to check on Sam across the room, still immersed in his new book, giving him a moment with his older brother. "Yeah, I spoke to your father. He's back in Lawrence, Kansas. He thinks he's found a lead on... on the demon."
"He's gone home?" Dean felt his heart sinking in his chest. They hadn't been home since the place burned to the ground. He had begged his father dozens of times if they could go back there, but he refused every time.
How could he go back without them?
"He really went home. Why didn't he bring us with him?"
"Because I made him see sense. Dragging you boys along to every possible lead is destroying your lives. You said it yourself, you and your brother have been sleeping in the car for the past few months, without a hot meal, a shower... that's no way to live and you know it. Your father should know it too, but he's a selfish son of bitch."
Dean put his back to the kitchen counter, looking across the room at the man. He often wished that they could have their normal lives back before they lost their mother, but he knew that things would never be the same again for them. "Why didn't you tell us you have a daughter, Uncle Bobby?"
"What?" The man's features turned pale. He lifted the cap off his head, scratching at his forehead as his expression turned angry. "You stupid ass. What did you do?" He stormed off for the bedroom, throwing the door open to the walk in closet. He grabbed a lock box off the top shelf, dropping it onto the bed as Dean stepped through the doorway.
"Uncle Bobby, I didn't do anything." He quickly apologised, before the man started to get mad like his father. "I swear, I didn't touch any of your stuff." Dean watched the man quickly flicking through the things inside the lock box, satisfied that nothing had been touched. "Is she your daughter or not?"
"She's none of your business." Bobby barked back at him, replacing the lock box to the top shelf. He pushed the boy aside as he stormed past him, grabbing his jacket and car keys off the sofa. "Lock the door behind me." He called back to the boys, pulling the door shut behind him.
Dean ran to the door to watch him driving away, wishing he knew what he had said wrong. He twisted the lock into place, turning to look at his brother sat behind him. "I guess I'm making dinner." He sighed softly as his book worm younger brother kept his attention on the pages in front of him. He was completely clueless to what was going on around him, making Dean a little envious. He had always had to watch out for his younger brother. Sam got to be a kid. He always got to be a kid, while Dean was stuck babysitting him.
Their father's mission was to get revenge on the demon that killed their mother, while his was to watch out for Sam. His baby brother, Sammy didn't have any mission. He got to be a care free child and Dean often hated him for that. He couldn't even remember the last time his father had hugged him. He hugged Sam all the time.
Uncle Bobby was a better father to him, but even he didn't want to be around him anymore.
Reluctantly leaving his brother to it, Dean turned for the kitchen to make them some dinner, hoping that Bobby would be home before it was dark out. He hated being alone out in the middle of nowhere. At least a motel had other people around, but he still felt safest when his father or Uncle Bobby were nearby. Unlike his younger brother, Dean knew exactly what was out there in the dark and he was terrified, but he had to look after Sam.
"Sam, dinner's ready." Dean scooped half the can of pork and beans into the only clean bowl they had left, setting it down at the table for his younger brother. He immediately saw the grumpy look on the child's face, expecting an argument about having to eat something that he didn't want again, but instead he just sat down. "Uncle Bobby said that Dad's in Lawrence, Kansas."
"He went home?" Sam perked up. "Why didn't he take us with him?"
"He probably thinks that it's too dangerous for us." Dean shrugged his shoulders together, carrying over the saucepan that he had cooked the pork and beans in to the table. He sat down beside his brother, taking his first hot scoop with a spoon. "Dad said he would be back in two weeks."
"That was days ago." The child pouted his lip out, reaching out for the pop tarts on the table. He dipped one into his beans sauce, before he took a huge bite out of it. "Why can't Uncle Bobby stay with us?"
"He... had to go out." He motioned towards his brother's bowl of food. "Eat your dinner before it gets cold. You know how much you hate cold beans." Dean glanced towards the door as he heard a bark, wondering if his brother heard it too. He didn't show any signs of a reaction though, so it was just him again.
Once he finished off his beans and half the box of pop tarts, Sam crashed against the sofa with another book, leaving Dean to wash up. He waited by the front window once he was done, wishing that his Uncle Bobby's headlights would appear in the darkness at any moment, but there was still no sign of him after midnight and still no phone call from their father. Sam had already fallen asleep, completely carefree of everything going on around him, leaving Dean to watch over the cabin.
He wanted to crash too, but then he spotted the dog he had seen earlier, running after something in the dark. He made sure that his brother was really asleep, before he grabbed one of the shotgun's that Bobby had hidden earlier. He cautiously stepped out the front door, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped out into the darkness of the night.
Dean pointed the shotgun out in front of him, seeing his breath in front of his face. It was a very cold night, but he knew that it could also mean there was a ghost nearby.
Instead of turning back like any sane person would have done, Dean kept walking, freezing as he saw the dog he had seen earlier. He lowered the shotgun as it came walking towards him, pressing it's snout into his hand, rather than trying to rip him to shreds.
"Hey boy, what are you doing out here?" Dean ruffled his fingers through the dogs fur, realising it was the same dog he had seen earlier. It didn't have any tags and it was oddly cold to the touch, but his hand didn't go through him like it would have if he was a ghost.
The dog growled suddenly, lowering its head.
Dean turned to see what it was looking at, stumbling backwards as he saw another dog cloaked in darkness. He could see drool dripping from its sharp yellowing teeth, it's eyes glowing in his direction. It gave out a sinister growl, chilling Dean to the bone. He had heard tales about werewolves and skinwalkers, but he had never seen them in real life.
Whatever it was, this dog was angry and very hungry.
Dean felt his breath catch in his throat as he backed himself away from it, tripping on a loose root in the ground. He tumbled back onto his elbows, watching the two dogs lunging at each other in front of him like two missiles in the air. They tumbled around in the dirt, growling, biting at each other's necks.
Dean attempted to crawl away from them, spotting his dropped shotgun just a few feet away. He hit the dirt as they came rolling towards him, a trail of spittle and hair left in their wake. He scrambled away while the black dog had the other one pinned to the ground, grabbing the barrel to the shotgun just as a large boot appeared. He glanced up at the owner of the boot, relieved to see his Uncle Bobby looking down at him.
Bobby pulled the boy to his feet, grabbing the shotgun from the ground. He held Dean behind him out of harm's way, watching the entangled dogs ripping chunks out of each other. "In the house. Now." He pushed the child towards the cabin, keeping an eye on them as he followed him. He pushed Dean in the house, locking the door into place. "What in the hell were you doing out there?"
"I heard something." Dean defended himself, jumping back as the man stormed past him to check their defences. "What was that, Uncle Bobby?"
"Can't be sure, but it looked like a black dog." Bobby twisted the lock to the back door into place, moving Dean away from the window. "Where's your brother?"
"Sleeping in the back. What's a black dog?" He gave his Uncle a confused look.
Bobby lifted the lid to the window seat, taking out a gun loaded with real bullets, rather than salt rounds. He checked the clip, moving Dean further back in case it got inside. "The lore on black dogs is pretty vague. They're animal spirits. A little like hell hounds, but you can see them like a ghost."
"What about the other dog?"
"That mutt? He belongs to Rufus Turner, the hunter." Bobby handed him the gun. "His cabin is further up the hill. The idjit probably led that thing up here from his last hunt."
"How do you kill them?"
"You can't. You can send them back to hell, but you have to trap it first." Bobby hurried over to the book shelf behind Dean, scanning the covers for the right book. He tossed aside the irrelevant books, handing Dean the book filled with devils traps. "Black dogs, start reading." He hurried for the door to see where the dogs had got to, but he couldn't see any sign of them.
"I can't read this stuff, Uncle Bobby. It doesn't make any sense." Dean complained, flicking through the endless pages of symbols. He followed the man to the other side of the cabin, finding the relevant page as the man pushed him back from the window. "I think this is it."
Outside the cabin, darkness had settled in completely. Bobby couldn't make out any shapes, glowing eyes or movement in the darkness of any kind. Now was their chance. He pushed his coffee table back against the wall, pulling back the carpet.
"Give me a hand here, boy." He started painting the devils trap on the floor of his cabin.
Dean dropped to the floor beside him, giving the red paint a suspicious look. It didn't look like normal paint and it didn't smell like it either. His best guess was blood. He didn't want to think about who's blood it was. He just followed the man's directions, painting the symbol on the floor.
"Now get in back with your brother." Bobby climbed to his feet, grabbing his gun from the sofa. "I can handle it from here."
"How are you going to lure it into the house by yourself? You need my help, Uncle Bobby." Dean insisted, going for the door before he could stop him.
"Dean, stop. It's too dangerous." Bobby ran for the door, just missing the child. "Balls." He glanced around at the devils trap behind him, hoping that this worked, before he followed the child outside. He didn't like the idea of using the kid as bait, but he didn't really have any other choice. Dean was as stubborn as his old man.
Unlike John Winchester, the child kept calm, doing exactly what needed to be done. He got the attention of the black dog, easily rolling out of an attack from the beast. He led it into the cabin, getting it trapped in their freshly painted devils trap. The kid was a natural, but Bobby didn't want him to have to grow up like this.
It wasn't fair on him.
"It's two in the morning, John." Bobby answered the phone that night, furious that the man had missed talking to his boys again.
After he sent the black dog back to hell, he had more than a few words to say to his neighbour, Rufus about leading such a dangerous creature to a place where they sought sanctuary. He didn't have the patience to deal with John Winchester after that, but he couldn't ignore his call.
"The boys are asleep, as they should be. They're only ten and six. They should be out playing a game of catch with their father, not training to be soldiers for your war."
"Yeah, and where's your daughter right now, Bobby?" John barked back at him, using his own history against him. "I'll swing by tomorrow to pick up my boys. Try to keep them alive until then." He hung up on the man, just missing the foul language spewing out of the older man's mouth.
Bobby threw the phone across the room, cursing the man on the other end. He stormed across the room to grab a beer from the fridge, putting all thoughts of running away with the boys to the back of his mind. John would hunt him down and kill him if he took those boys away from him. He just needed him to see what he was doing to them, especially when he didn't keep his word and call them like he promised.
A few hours later, Sam was the first to roll out of bed, stumbling through to the front room of the cabin in his oversized pyjama bottoms. He stopped at the edge of the front room, examining the new symbol on the floor that wasn't there last night. The lamp by the door was smashed, the recliner had been overturned and torn to shreds by some sort of animal and his Uncle Bobby was passed out on the sofa, three empty beer bottles sat at his feet.
Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes, approaching the man's side. He trailed his fingertips across a fresh wound to the man's arm, before he jabbed him to wake him up. "Uncle Bobby, what happened?"
The man yawned widely, adjusting the cap on his head as he looked around the room. "Nothing. It's gone now. Your brother and I handled it." He lifted his arm from his side, looking at the time on his watch. "I suppose you'll be wanting something to eat." He pushed himself to his feet, feeling an ache in his back as he made his way through to the kitchen.
"Did my Daddy call last night?" Sam followed him into the kitchen, standing close to his side, while the man fixed him a bowl of cereal.
"He did, eventually. He said he'll swing by sometime today to pick you boys up." Bobby turned for the fridge to grab the milk Rufus had picked up for him last night. He poured it for him to avoid Sam spilling it over the counter again, lifting him up to the counter to eat it. "So, Dean told me you're starting the first grade soon. Are you excited to finally be in school?"
Sam shrugged his shoulders together, wiping away a dribble of milk from his chin with the back of his hand. "Dean hates school. He says the other kids are mean." He propped the cereal bowl on his lap, watching his Uncle Bobby fixing himself a bowl of cereal.
"Dean hates school because he's not really into reading like you and me." Bobby gave him a smile. "I didn't exactly like school when I was your age either, but it was better than being at home. As for the other kids, you can keep your head low, show em what you're made of with your work or you can punch the biggest and ugliest one, so they'll think twice before they mess with you."
Sam returned his smile, glancing over his shoulder as his brother emerged from the bedroom. "Dean, Daddy's coming back!"
"Really?" Dean looked to his Uncle for answers.
"Yep, told me so himself." Bobby ushered him through to the kitchen, grabbing him an extra bowl. "Did you manage to get any sleep, champ?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders together, leaning against the counter beside his younger brother. "I didn't sleep much." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, giving out a wide yawn. "Dad really said that he was going to be here today?"
"He'll keep his word, Dean." Bobby handed the bowl of cereal over to him, lifting the child onto the counter beside his brother. "How about we head down to the lake for a couple of hours? Until your Dad gets back." He looked between the two boys, feeling as though he was watching their little hearts breaking all over again.
John did his best to keep the promises that he made. He kept the important ones, but he wasn't so good at keeping the little ones, like showing up when he promised or remembering to call when he promised. Bobby hoped today wasn't one of those days, so he decided to distract the boys by taking them down to the lake for a few hours to blow off some steam.
As soon as he pulled the car to a stop, Sam was out the door like a lightning bolt, running as fast his little legs could carry him to the water's edge. He was careful not to get too close, but he still frightened the life out of Bobby. Dean on the other hand had barely acknowledged that the car had even stopped. He was far too disciplined for a normal ten year old boy. Instead of running wild and blowing off steam like his brother, Dean chose to keep a watchful eye over Sam, constantly surveying the area they were in just in case.
He was a miniature version of John Winchester in every way. He couldn't even relax anymore.
"Dean, look how high I am!" Sam exclaimed from a high tree branch, grinning and waving down at his older brother.
"Sammy, come down from there. You're going to fall." The ten year old positioned himself below, anxiously biting his bottom lip as his younger brother ignored his warning, deciding to climb higher on the thinner branches that couldn't take his weight. "Sam, stop. You have to come down now."
"No. This is fun." Sam reached an unsteady hand out for the next branch, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he climbed a little higher.
"Sam! Don't go any higher, I mean it." Dean yelled this time, only making the younger boy grin.
"Uncle Bobby, look at me." Waving in the man's direction, Sam accidentally let go of his support, falling backwards into the tree. He tumbled down the branches he had just climbed one by one, feeling them cracking and breaking beneath him. He came to a sudden halt on the last branch, hitting his chest hard against its hard surface. He didn't want to cry, but the first tear was already making its way down his cheek.
It hurt so much and he didn't think he could get up.
Before he could even scream for someone to help him, his brother had already climbed the tree, helping him up. He didn't think his brother was as strong as his Daddy or Uncle Bobby, but Dean easily lifted him straight onto his back, telling him to hold tight, before he climbed down the tree with him.
His brother was still his hero, no matter how much he annoyed him, Dean was always there for him.
"Anything broken?" Bobby met them at the bottom of the tree, inspecting the child's hands and grazed knees for himself. "Well, I think you'll live. Maybe you should leave tree climbing to the experts, Sammy." He playfully ruffled his fingers through Sam's shabby hair, before he patted Dean on the back for a job well done.
"I didn't even go that high though." Sam protested, brushing away the bark from his chest. "Uncle Bobby, can we go over there?" He pointed into the distance, taking off running in that direction. He giggled as Bobby chased after him, squealing as the man scooped him up into his arms.
"I told you not to go running off again."
"Wow, look at that." A deer caught the six year olds attention. He watched the animal walking around ahead of them with wide eyes of wonder, acting as though he had never even seen one before.
Bobby started to wonder if John had ever actually taken his boys anywhere just to blow off some steam or play like normal children.
Leaving Sam inspecting insects in a shallow puddle, Bobby joined Dean round the back of his truck, dropping a baseball mitt into his lap. Dean pinched his eyebrows together as he glanced up at the man, confused by the gesture. He had never seen a catcher's mitt before, much less held one.
"C'mon boy," Bobby pulled his own glove on, tossing a ball into his palm. He cracked a grin in his direction, ushering him over to a more open part of the field. "Heads up." He called out, throwing the ball in his direction.
Dean stumbled out of the back of the truck after it, crawling towards where it landed on the ground. He gave the foreign object a curious look, wondering what exactly the man expected him to do with it.
"Dean, c'mon," Bobby punched his fist into his open glove, showing him that he was ready. "Just throw it."
Pushing himself to his feet, Dean gripped the ball tightly in his palm, taking a few steps away from his Uncle's truck. He tossed the ball towards the man, biting his bottom lip as it didn't even get close to him.
"It's alright." Bobby scooped it up from the ground. "Try an over arm throw this time." He showed him how, watching the boy flinching away from it, rather than trying to catch it. "Use your mitt to catch it."
"I can't do it, Uncle Bobby." Dean complained, ready to call it quits already.
"Yes you can." Bobby assured him, pointing him towards where the ball rolled off to. "It's not rocket science, Dean. Just throw it back to me." He wondered if John had ever given his boys anything to do other than hunting monsters. He lowered his glove to catch the boy's next throw, giving him a smile. "Not bad. Now keep your eye on the ball."
"Why are we doing this, Uncle Bobby?"
"For fun." He threw the ball in his direction.
"Damn it." Dean fumbled with the ball in the air, looking more annoyed than entertained at the moment. He sighed softly before he threw it back, hoping that this torture would be over soon, but it seemed to last an eternity. He finally caught a high ball in his mitt, smiling for the first time all day.
"See, this isn't so bad, is it?"
"Yes." Dean spoke softly, trying to throw the ball a little further, but his Uncle Bobby still managed to catch it in the air. "Did you do this with your daughter?" He curiously asked the man, wondering why he had an extra mitt if he lived alone.
Bobby paused a moment, pursing his lips together as he looked down at the ball in his mitt. "No." He spoke in a barely audible whisper.
"Why?"
Dean attempted to catch the next ball, flinching back as the fast ball hit his hand like a lightning bolt. He had clearly upset the man.
He pulled his glove off to rub his sore hand, seeing a look of empathy on his Uncle's face.
"Why didn't you tell us you had a daughter, Uncle Bobby?"
"Because not everything is the business of you, Winchesters." He snarled back at him, lowering his mitt to his side as he realised that was a little harsh. He didn't like talking about her because he couldn't protect her. He was a fool to ever think that he could have a normal life now that he knew all about the monsters that haunted the world. He just wanted something good in the world after all the bad he had seen, but his father was right.
He broke everything he touched.
Instead of continuing with the game of catch, Bobby perched himself on the back of his truck, watching Sammy playing ahead of them without a care in the world. He wished that Dean could still have that innocence. He wished that he didn't even know the truth about the monsters in the world, but it was too late to turn back now.
Bobby turned to look at Dean beside him, deciding to confess a few things, before hunting completely destroyed his life too.
"We've all got our stories of how we got into hunting. Mine was my wife. Karen." He started at the beginning, feeling chills running down his spine, just from the mention of her name after all these years. "More than anything in the world, Karen wanted children of her own. She married me, believing that one day we would have children of our own, but I never told her that I didn't want them."
Bobby turned to check on Sam in the distance, making sure he wasn't getting too close to the lake.
"My old man," He laced his fingers together in his lap. "He... he was a son of a bitch. Every day was a battle with that man. When he drank, he was the worst. He'd beat my mother, just for looking at him the wrong way. I never wanted to turn into him. I-I never wanted to raise a hand to my child, so I decided that children weren't for me. I told Karen all of this... we argued... I-I left her at the house. I couldn't face the arguments anymore. When I came back... it was as though she had become a completely different person. She came at me with a knife, repeating what my old man always used to say to me."
The old man's words ran deep, sending another chill down his spine.
"I didn't know it at the time, but a demon had possessed my wife. When she came at me with the knife, I... I-I defended myself," He started to get choked up at the memory. "I took the knife off her... she kept coming... so I stabbed her. She kept coming at me though, the more I stabbed her... the more she laughed." Bobby lifted the cap off his head, scratching his head a moment, before he returned his gaze to the child beside him. "A hunter, Rufus Turner helped me... he exorcised the demon from her... helped me... helped me bury her."
Dean clambered onto the back of the truck beside his Uncle Bobby, giving him a curious look. "If you never had kids..."
"Not with Karen, I didn't." Bobby shook his head, wiping his nervous hands down his jeans. "Rufus introduced me to the hunters life. There's a place out in Nebraska, sorta like a hunters retreat. After my first werewolf hunt, I met a hunter... name of Jessie. She got into it after a demon tore apart her family. She was just a kid at the time. Mom, Dad, brother, sisters... all dead. She was the only survivor. She grew up in the hunter life. She taught me... a lot more than I needed to know about demons, witches... you name it, she had heard of it."
Breathing in a deep breath, Bobby clapped a hand over the boys shoulder, giving him a slight smile.
"We uh... we spent one night together after a witch hunt. That whole near death experience thing brought us closer together. I didn't think I'd ever see her again... not after she hightailed it out of there in the morning. I didn't see her until six months later, she showed up at my door at the Salvage yard with a belly out to here." He demonstrated with his hands. "I couldn't believe it. I thought it must have been some kind of joke, but she was pregnant and I was the only one she had been with. I thought I had lost everything when Karen died, but Jessie... she gave me another chance."
"Your daughter?" Dean remembered the ghost girl he had seen the other night. "How did she die?"
"Well uh... Jessie, she stayed with me for a while after our daughter, Molly was born. She didn't feel safe at the scrap yard with a baby though. I didn't exactly want history to repeat itself, so I didn't put up much of a fight when they left me." He realised what a mistake that was now. "Jessie took her up north with her. She knew some folks who had got out of hunting and could protect them. I didn't see Molly again until she was your brother's age. Jessie had got back into hunting. She got overrun at a vampire nest. A hunter, a friend of hers ditched the kid on me... told me what happened to Jessie. I wasn't ready. I could barely take care of myself, much less a child. I made the mistake of staying in the hunter lifestyle."
"Uncle Bobby, look." Sam scurried over to them, his hands clasped together. He slowly opened them up, revealing the spider he had caught inside. "It's the biggest spider I've ever seen."
"Yeah, he's a biggen." Bobby gave him a smile, glancing up at the sky above them. "It looks like it's gonna rain. I better get you boys back to the cabin and fed before your old man gets back." He slid himself off the back of the truck, turning to give Dean a hand.
"But Uncle Bobby, you didn't finish the story." Dean reluctantly climbed down from the back, giving the man a pleading look. "How did she die?"
"I'll uh... I'll tell you when we get back. C'mon, Sammy." The man avoided the question, ushering the kids round to the front of the truck. He lifted them inside, making sure they buckled up, before he drove them in the direction of the cabin. He really didn't want this to be his last day with the boys, but he didn't want to get on John Winchester's bad side, again.
As soon as they made it through the door, Sam rushed straight for the remote for the TV, flipping through the few fuzzy channels they had, before he found his cartoons. Dean followed his Uncle through to the kitchen, watching the man preparing them some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sam's favourite, but Dean never really liked them.
"How did she die?" He asked him again.
"I'm trying to fix you boys some lunch before your father gets back."
"I'm not even hungry though." Dean climbed the stool next to the counter, sitting himself down now that he was eye level with the man. "Why is your daughter's ghost hanging around the cabin? What happened to her, Uncle Bobby? I swear I won't say anything to Sam, I just want to know."
Bobby twisted the peanut butter jar open, lifting his gaze to meet Dean's. "You saw her ghost?"
"Out the front." Dean replied. "She looked so real."
Bobby nodded, spreading some peanut butter on the slice of bread in front of him. "That's because she is real. She's as real as she was when she was alive. Eight years old. Same clothes, same hair... same everything. She never changes."
"But she's a ghost?" The child tried to understand.
Grabbing a spoon from the cutlery drawer beside him, Bobby gave the child a nod, spooning some jelly onto the sandwiches in front of him. "Technically, she's a revenant. It's a rare type of visible ghost. I've only ever seen one other revenant in my time and that was back in the day with Rufus."
Dean raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious look. "What's a revenant?"
Setting down the jar of jelly, Bobby sighed softly, really wishing he wouldn't have to explain this to someone else, but there was no way out of it now. "Well, unlike other ghosts, they're corporeal. Solid. They can't pass through walls like other ghosts. They feel pain. They look and act... more human than the others."
"So..." Dean thought a moment. "Does that mean that she's alive?"
"No... no," Bobby shook his head, reaching for the knife to cut their sandwiches into small squares. "She's dead, she just doesn't know it. A revenant ghost is different from other ghosts because it doesn't know that it's dead. That's usually what keeps em hanging around. Rufus described them as a continuous manifestation, reliving their last few moments on this world forever." He grabbed a couple of plates, transferring the sandwiches over to them. He took the first plate over to Sam, making sure he sat himself down to eat them, rather than jumping about around the coffee table.
Dean watched the man returning to the kitchen, taking the second plate off his hands. "But how did she die?"
"Do you really need to know?"
"Yes." Dean pleaded the man. "I just want to know. Please, Uncle Bobby."
"Uh... alright. The uh... the police ruled it a car accident." Bobby licked the peanut butter off his fingers, leaning against the counter to eat his own lunch. He didn't feel very hungry though. "Truth is... I had pissed off a lot of demons. They came seeking revenge on me... Molly was in the back. They flipped my truck. I got away with a busted wrist. Molly... she was on the back seat... asleep. I crawled out of broken window... before I could go back for her... they hit the truck again."
"Uncle Bobby." Sam called from the other room.
Bobby straightened up, making his way through to the other room to fix the television for him. In the sense of banging his fist against the side of it while he adjusted the antennae on top, until the picture became clearer.
"There you are." Bobby gave him a smile, getting out of the way so he could continue watching his cartoons. He returned to Dean in the kitchen, watching his little mind processing all the information he had just been told. "The accident site where she died was at the bottom of the drive here. I gave her a hunters funeral at the top of the hill, but it turns out that revenants can still manifest without their remains. A simple motive, whether it be vengeance, unfinished business... fear. That's all they need to keep them here."
Dean tilted his head to the side, giving the man a curious look. "Why is she still here?"
The man shrugged his shoulders together, picking up his uneaten sandwich from the counter. "I guess... I just don't know how to deal with her. She doesn't know she's dead. She'll appear in the back of my truck or the cabin with no memory of the accident, her death or the last time she appeared. I've relived the accident with her... more... more times than I'd like."
He cleared his throat, turning for the fridge to grab a beer.
"Sometimes I come up here and pretend everything is alright. She's still technically my daughter and she's more or less alive. But other times... I just can't deal with the fact that she's still here. She should have moved on or something. I don't know what's keeping her here and I know that the longer she's here, the more likely she's going to turn into a vengeful spirit or something. But she's just a kid, like you and your brother. Without her, I feel like I really have lost everything."
"Like my Dad?"
"No, not like your father, Dean." The man shook his head, walking across the room to the front door as he heard a noise. He checked out the window, turning back to the child. "I lost everything. My wife, my daughter. I lost my family. Your father still has you and your brother. He still has his family, but he's determined to push you and your brother into this life. It's not safe for you, either of you."
"Is that Daddy?" Sam jumped up from the sofa, rushing to the door beside his Uncle. "It is. It's Daddy. Dean," He turned to look at his brother. "It's really him. I told you he would be here. I told you."
Dean muttered something as he picked at the crusts on his sandwich, almost wishing his father hadn't come back yet.
Bobby opened the door for the excitable six year old, watching the child hurrying down the stony driveway as fast as his little legs could carry him. The truck pulled to a stop halfway and out climbed John Winchester, wearing a shredded pair of dirty old jeans and his familiar tan brown jacket. He managed a smile through the sadness in his features, crouching down to scoop his little boy up into his arms.
"Hey, Sammy." John hugged his son tightly in his strong embrace, showing that loving father side to him that Bobby never got to see.
"Dean," He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't you want to see your father?"
Dean remained seated with his uneaten sandwich a moment, really wishing that they could stay here at the cabin in a stable home for just a few more days. He hated moving around all the time. He hated staying in motels and lying to everyone they met. He wanted to stay with Bobby where he could have a semi normal existence, but he knew that his father would never allow it.
The mission mattered more than their lives.
Reluctantly climbing down from the counter, Dean lethargically made his way towards the door, clearly not as eager to see his father return. He slowly made his way towards them, watching his father releasing his younger brother just enough to make room for him to join them in his strong arms.
"Hey, Dean." John presented him with the familiar smile that the child always longed to see.
"Dad." He finally gave in, throwing his little arms around the man's shoulders. He closed his eyes against the shoulder of his father's jacket, breathing in his family musky scent as the man embraced him tightly in his arms. He loved his father's hugs more than anything in the world. His hugs proved that they were a real family and he did really care about them.
No one could ever accuse him of not being a loving father. He loved his boys more than anything in the world.
It was just the constant hunter training and dragging them along to every hunt that made him seem like a selfish man. Bobby didn't understand how a father could continue to put his sons directly in the path of danger on a daily basis without any regard to what it might be doing to their spirits or even their health.
Bobby knew the feeling of losing a child all too well. He wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. He wanted to remind the man that he was raising children not soldiers, but John would never listen to him. He had already lost the most precious gift in the world to him and he was paying the price for staying in the hunter life everyday his daughter's ghost reappeared.
All that mattered to John Winchester was the mission.
Destroying the demon that killed his wife and ended his boys happy childhood was his priority now. Everything else would have to wait, including the lives of his children.
Bobby reluctantly waved the boys off, hoping to see them alive and well again soon. He turned back to his cabin to clean up, finding crayons stuffed between the sofa cushions, army men charging across the mantle, toy cars circling the bath tub and finally a hand drawn picture stuffed underneath Sam's pillow.
The six year had drawn the cabin sitting beneath a big smiling sunshine with four stick figure people standing underneath. His father was unmistakably the biggest stick figure in the middle, holding a shotgun and wearing his dusty old jacket. Dean and little Sammy were pictured beside him with big smiles plastered across their faces. Finally on the right of the cabin stood a man with a blue baseball cap on his head, a shabby beard on his face and a check shirt.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby muttered, "Balls."
That's all folks :)
This is my first wee!chester AU pre-series story, so hopefully it's up to scratch for wee!chester fans. Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Please leave me a review if you did.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
~ Holly