Authors: PlatinumRoseLady and Kady

Title: More Than Meets the Eye

Rating: PG 13, for language

Words: 20,799

Warnings: none beyond the unadulterated schmoop; also some h/c and angst, sick!Sammy

Characters: 9-yr-old Dean, 5-yr-old Sam, Bobby, John and others

Summary: John leaves his sons with Bobby for the summer while he continues to search for the thing that took his Mary from them. Adorableness transpires. Dean is awesome…and Bobby's pretty good at it too. (Need familiarity with 6.17 "My Heart Will Go On" as fic is set in AU world made canon in that episode.)

Summer, 1988

It was a quiet morning at Singer Salvage, but as Bobby got his coffee ready, he knew it wasn't going to stay that way for long.

He had guests - two very special little guests. John Winchester had dropped them off last night; both boys fast asleep in the backseat of the Mustang. John had gently carried Dean, his eldest son (although the child was nine years old, he was light as a feather in his father's arms,) leaving Bobby to lift five-year old Sammy out and bring him in the house.

John looked down at the boys, innocent in peaceful slumber, and Bobby could see the raging debate going on behind John's eyes. He'd wanted to stay with his children, catch a breather with his friend.

But, there was a new lead to be followed about the thing that had murdered his Mary, and he was just as determined to chase it down. Not knowing how long it'd take, he couldn't continue to haul his boys around, putting them in danger. At his friend Pastor Jim's suggestion, and with Bobby's agreement, John knew his boys would be safe here.

John gave each of his precious sons a quick kiss, gruffly thanked Bobby for promising to keep watch over them, promised he'd be back as soon as he could, and walked downstairs. A moment later, Bobby heard the rumble as the car drove off.

That was last night. Now, as he got out a couple of small bowls and set the table, he had a feeling the quiet wasn't going to last.

He heard a sound and turning to face the door, Bobby saw Sammy standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The child's chestnut hair was wild about his face, and he wore a frown as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Where's Daddy?" Sam asked as he crossed the room toward his Uncle Bobby.

Since Bobby wasn't sure what John had told his sons before leaving them on his doorstep, he finished setting the table, putting a box of Trix™ cereal in the middle of the table.

Before he had a chance to answer, Dean moved into the doorway, and seeing his brother, smiled softly. "Morning, Uncle Bobby," he said as he reached his brother and helped him perch on one of the chairs.

Sam, however, was not going to be swayed away from getting an answer to his question by a box of sugary treats. "Where's Daddy?" he asked again, his voice taking on an even more plaintive tone.

Bobby gave Dean a nod and a smile, ruffling the boy's spiky blond locks, before he walked over and knelt down so he was looking up into Sam's little face.

"Yer Daddy - well, he had to go away for a little bit, Sammy. Somewhere... somewhere where little fellas can't go, an' he thought that maybe you and Dean would like to spend some time here with me." Bobby gently tickled under Sam's chin. "I've missed you two, and I'm glad you're here. So no more poutin', okay?"

When it looked like Sam wanted to continue, Dean stepped in. Putting his hand on his little brother's shoulder, he chided Sam softly, "None of that, Sammy. Dad'll be back soon. He said so, remember? Get on your chair. Uncle Bobby's got one of your favorite cereals, see?"

Sam did as his brother directed, but not without a fine display of his famous puppy eyes expression. Sam pulled his bowl close and waited while Dean put cereal into it, and then again, when Bobby poured the milk. Only then did he look up at the hunter and asked, "C'n I have some juice, please?"

Bobby grinned. "Sure thing, kid." Glancing at Dean, he added, "Want some too, sport?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Breakfast was an average affair after that, and for that, Bobby sent up a silent prayer of thanks. It broke his heart when either of the Winchester boys was upset.

No doubt about it - they'd wiggled their way into the gruff hunter's heart and settled right in.

"Uncle Bobby," Sam asked after downing most of his bowl of cereal. "Can we watch TV when The Tranfarmers come on, please?"

"The Trans-what now?" Bobby asked, a little puzzled.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sometimes little brothers were the silliest creatures on two legs. "It's not Transfarmers, Sammy. It's Transformers!"

Sam looked at his brother with an annoyed frown. "That's what I said, Dean."

Dean didn't bother arguing with his brother. At least not yet. There'd be time for that later. He'd give Uncle Bobby some time to get used to them again before he resumed picking on Sammy, as he felt was his right as big brother.

Instead, he shrugged and said, "Whatever," before spooning more cereal.

Bobby, for his part, found the discussion not only confusing, but also kind of cute. "Ok, fill me in on the, what? Transformers?"

Sam began telling him all about the children's cartoon he was currently enamored with, with occasional corrections from Dean, which he shrugged off and ignored.

Sam's eyes lit up with glee, twin pools of blue-green, as he launched into his recitation. "The Transformers are the bestest, Uncle Bobby! They're great big robots from outer space an' they can change so they look like cars an' trucks an' planes an' everything!"

"You don't say," Bobby replied dryly. Kids and their love of robots. Some things never change. He took a sip of coffee and gave Dean a wry smile. "You watch this show with your brother, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, the move of a teenager from a nine-year-old almost causing Bobby to laugh. "I watch it 'cause Sammy does,' he replied.

"Uh-huh," Bobby answered, not buying that for a minute. "Tell me, Sammy, are these Transformers the good guys?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yep! Well, the Autobots are the good guys. The bad guys are the Des-Descrpto..."

"Decepticons," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, the Decepticons," Sammy nodded, hair flying wildly about his sweet face. "Like Megatron. He's scary. I don't like him. I like the Autobots, 'cause they're the good guys - like Optimus Prime - he's like the Daddy, an' there's Brawn an' Rachet, an' Bumblebee, an'-"

Bobby held up a hand, chuckling. "Okay, okay, I get it. There's a cast of thousands - go on, git." He waved the boys away from the table. "Go check the TV and see if your show's on while I clean up in here."

The Winchesters got up from the table, Sam taking Dean's hand, leading the way to the living room, chattering brightly about the cartoon.

By the time Bobby had the kitchen back in order and made his way into the living room, Sam was already engrossed in the cartoon. Bobby arrived just in time to hear Dean tell his brother, "Not so close to the TV, buddy. You know what Dad says."

Sam grumbled but moved back a few feet from the TV screen.

Bobby sat in the chair behind his desk and started going through the papers littering the top. Dean followed him over and stood beside the desk.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby?" Dean shifted from foot to foot, clearly bored.

"Yeah, kid?"

"What's this?" The boy lifted a sheaf of papers, the top one of which bore a detailed drawing of a Devil's Trap. Turning the paper around so he could look at it more clearly, Dean's eyes grew large in his face. "I know what this is. It's a-"

Bobby took it from the kid's hands, and sent a glance over at Sam. "I know what it is, and you know what it is, but we'll save the discussion for when we don't have company. Got it?"

Dean nodded, understanding. Sammy didn't know what Dad did. If Dean had his way, his brother wouldn't learn until he had to. He wanted to protect Sammy as long as possible.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean decided to brave another question.

Bobby took a breath, "Yeah?"

Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. "When will I be old enough to do what Dad does?"

Bobby jammed his thumb into his leg. He was not going to tear up at that - even though the simple question broke his heart. He didn't want this life for these boys. He wouldn't wish the life on his worst enemy.

He reached out and lightly cupped Dean's face. "Hopefully never. Hopefully soon, your Dad will... will take care of things, and then you and he and your brother can settle down."

Dean thought for a moment, then he nodded. "I'd like that. I'd like it if we could all stay here and live with you always."

Bobby had to swallow down the lump that threatened to choke him. "Yeah, Dean. I'd uh, I'd like that too." Shifting his papers around long enough to gather himself, he finally cleared his throat and said, "When the cartoon's over, how 'bout you take that brother of yours outside and get some fresh air. Go see if you can find where George ran off to." George was his dog, an old German shepherd who'd wandered in one day and never left. That'd been close to ten years ago.

"Can we play in the car yard?" Dean knew it was sometimes off-limits, depending on what Uncle Bobby had out there at any one time. Some of the old cars weren't too safe.

"I 'spose, but keep an eye on your brother, 'kay?"

Getting Sam's socks and sneakers on was a bit of an effort (since Sam was in a bit of a squirmy mood that morning,) but finally the task was done. After slipping on his jacket, since it was still a little cool outside, Dean made sure Sam buttoned up, and both of them went outside.

For a moment, Dean stood on the porch, and took a deep breath. The air was a myriad of scents, smelling of grass, and trees, but also of oil and cars.

He loved those smells - he loved it at Uncle Bobby's. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Uncle Bobby he wished they could live here. All of them - he and Sammy and Dad staying here, settling down.

But, Dean knew in his young heart that couldn't happen, not until Dad killed whatever it was that had killed Mom all those years back.

Just then, there was a tug on his hand. "C'mon, Dean," Sam said, "let's play!"

Unless it was something Dean knew would harm his baby brother, Dean tried to give the boy whatever he wanted. If Sammy wanted to run around the yard and play, that's what he'd get. Dean followed Sam as the kid ran toward the car yard, his voice loud and happy. Dean grinned and, keeping an eye on his brother, joined him as he climbed into a rusted out Dodge pickup.

"C'mon, Dean!" Sammy squealed. "I wanna drive first!"

The boy's loud 'Bbbbbbrrrrrrr' filled the air as Dean settled himself on the seat beside Sam. "When did you get your license, Sammy? You been holdin' out on me or something?"

Sam giggled up at his big brother. "Did it last week!"

Dean decided to play along - it was worth it to see Sam so happy. He settled in the passenger's seat and put his feet up on the dashboard. "So, where're we going, little bro?"

Sam turned and looked at him, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open, an adorable lowercase "o" of surprise. "I get to pick?" he squeaked excitedly.

Dean nodded. "Well, duh, you're driving, aren't 'cha? So where're we heading?"

Sam's hands went still upon the wheel. All this power had gone straight to his head, and as he scrunched his forehead in thought, Dean was hard-pressed not to laugh.

Little Sammy wasn't used to being allowed to make any decisions. He frowned, and looked up at his big brother. In a small voice, he admitted, "I don't know, Dean. I'm only five."

Dean reached out and ruffled his brother's curls. "That's ok, Sammy. You did good just getting that license. That's more'n I've done."

Sam hadn't considered that. "Really? I got my license 'fore you did?" It was easy to forget it was just make believe when his big brother and hero admitted to not having done something first.

Dean gave him a grin. "Yep. You sure did. Now you can go out crusin' for girls, and..."

"Eeeeeeewwwwww! Dean, that's just gross!" Sam exploded with disgust. "Girls are yucky! They want to hug you and kiss you and... and they got cooties!"

Dean may be only nine-years-old himself, but he was already scoping out girls, noticing them, watching them, thinking about them late at night after Sammy's asleep. He grinned and said, confidentially, "Aww, I don't know 'bout that, Sammy. Girls are ok. They can be silly, but some of 'em are nice."

Sam gave his brother a stink eye. "You got a girlfriend, Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, but the smile on his face said enough. "Don't tell Dad, Sammy. It's our secret."

Sam sat and thought about it a moment. "You really got a girlfriend, Dean? Who is she? Why didn't you tell me 'fore now?"

Dean scoffed and shrugged. "Don't you have some things you don't tell me?"

Sam shook his head. "Nuh, uh. I tells you everything!"

There was something in that statement, so honest, so simple, that went into Dean's heart and stuck there. A grin pulled at his lips as he reached out and ruffled Sam's hair. "You're always going to tell me everything, right, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, beaming. "Yep, 'cause you're my big brother and we're best friends forever an' ever an' ever!" A sudden idea made Sam's eyes light up. "I just thought of where we can go, Dean! Let's go where Batman lives! You like Batman lots an' lots! Let's go there!"

Dean faked amazement. "You know where the Batcave is?" He gave his brother an awed look, and punched him lightly. "I thought you told me everything. Why didn't you tell me this? This is important stuff, Sammy!"

Sam giggled. "Maybe I keeps a secret once in a while." He 'shifted' the truck's gearshift and looked around as if pulling out. "Don't forget your seatbelts, Dean. I'mma drive real fast!"

Dean smirked, but did as he was told.

It had been over an hour and there hadn't been any noise out of the boys. Bobby knew he'd better check on them. Putting on his cap, he slipped outside, and was immediately met by George. "Where're they at, G?"

The dog woofed and turning, headed for the junkyard.

Bobby followed the canine and, as they ventured further into the twisted maze of cars, they could hear a pair of voices, both of them breathless with excitement.

"Dean, which way do I go now?! The Joker's gonna catch us!"

"Quick, Sammy turn down that alley and shut off the engine!"

There was a prolonged "SCREEEECH," then the panting of Sam's little voice.

Dean whispered "Sammy, you need to turn off the engine!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. *click*"

Silence.

"Dean? What do we do now?"

"We wait."

"Is Batman gonna come an' save us?"

"Doesn't Batman always come and save the day?"

Bobby had to grin; Dean sounded appalled that Sam would ever dare to doubt The Caped Crusader.

More silence.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Is Batman better than Optimus Prime?"

Dean sighed. "Sammy, Batman's a person, and Optimus is a giant robot from outer space. Of course Batman's better."

"Why?"

"Because Batman's going to rescue us and Optimus Prime's too busy fighting Megatron to come help."

"Oh."

"Shh!"

"What's wrong Dean?"

"I think I hear the Joker's car."

A fearful swallow. "Y-you do?" Sam whispered.

Bobby grinned and moved closer to the truck, with George at his heels. He stole a quick look and saw the boys both staring out the windshield, lost in their own world.

Dean nodded, a look of utter seriousness on his young face. "Yep, that's the Joker's car, for sure. When I tell you to, Sammy, you floor it and drive as fast as you can, okay?"

Sam put his tiny hands on the steering wheel and nodded. "O-okay, Dean."

"One... two... THREE! NOW, SAMMY, PUNCH IT! GO!"

Sam stomped on the gas pedal as hard as he could and let out a very convincing imitation of screaming tires as the truck 'sped away.'

Bobby couldn't stay out of the fun any longer. It felt so wonderful to have such young energy around the salvage yard; it was contagious. He made his way behind the truck, George at his heels. Grinning, he started to make the sound of a motorcycle cop, complete with siren. He grinned as he watched both boys nearly fly out of their skin.

When Dean turned and looked out the back window and saw their Uncle Bobby behind the truck, bent over and laughing uproariously, Dean nudged Sammy. "Dude, it was just Uncle Bobby. Mannnnnnn!"

Sammy gave up the play. Slipping out the driver's side door, he stood in from of Bobby, little hands balled at his hips, and gave the older man a perfect bitchface. "That wasn't funny, Uncle Bobby!"

"From where I'm standin', kid," Bobby gasped, "it was hilarious!"

Dean joined his little brother. Not nearly as appalled as Sam, Dean shrugged and put a hand on Sammy's shoulder. "That's ok, bro. Uncle Bobby knows we were just pretendin'."

"Wellllllll... okay." Sam walked over to Bobby and held out his arms, turning on the puppy dog eyes to full charm. "Up, please."

Bobby shook his head - that child was going to be dangerous with that look when he got older - nobody'd be able to resist. He picked up the little boy and tweaked his nose. "So what's next, now that you and Dean have broken all kinds of speed limits and other driving laws?"

Sammy giggled. "Hide 'n Seek, Uncle Bobby! Please play Hide 'n Seek with me an' Dean?"

Bobby couldn't say no to Sammy's puppy eyes any more than Dean (or pretty much anybody else) could, for that matter. "Alright, Sammy, we'll make this truck home base, you and your brother hide and I'll find you." He put Sam back down and the youngster scampered over to his brother.

Dean was feeling a little cockier, and tossed Bobby a smart-ass grin. "I dunno, Uncle Bobby, do you really think you can find me and Sammy?"

Bobby gave Dean a mocking growl and grumbled, "Oh, you think you're so clever, little man? I know this yard backwards and forwards. Let's just see how long you two rugrats can stay hidden!"

The challenge had both boys grinning mischievously. Dean cackled and took his brother's hand. "You're on, dude!" With that, he led Sam off between two tall stacks of gutted vehicles, leaving Bobby to grin as he leaned over the roof of the truck, burying his face in his folded arms.

Bobby began to count loudly. "1...2...3..." He could hear Sam squeal from a short distance away, and Dean hushing him as their voices faded away. "...18...19...20! Ready or not, boys, here I come!" He lifted his head, cocking it from side to side, trying to listen for more noises.

George was more than willing to take part in the game, his ears pricking up as Bobby began to scan the yard.

"Don't think so, George," Bobby said, taking notice of the dog's stance. He ran a hand between the dog's ears. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm going on this hunt by myself." He gave the canine a gentle pat to the rump. "Head on back to the house, boy. There's some food and water waiting for ya."

George gave a soft woof, and ambled back to the porch to eat and snooze in the sun.

If Bobby had them figured out, and he was sure he did, Dean'd probably had them split up while still staying close together. The best way to hunt them, he surmised, would be to flush them out of their hiding spots by getting them to make some sort of noise.

He also knew, or at least figured as much, that Sammy might be the easier of the two to find. Once he found that scamp, finding Dean would be easier.

Or so he thought.

Finding two wily boys in the maze of trashed cars was a lot easier said than done, Bobby found. He took the time to stop and listen as he wove his way through, thinking maybe he'd catch a small whisper or giggle out of Sam, but he heard nary a peep. Whipping his cap off his head, he wiped at his forehead before returning the hat back on his head. "Well, crap. Where'd those yahoos get to?"

He listened once more, just in case the boys were near and had heard him.

Not a sound.

Dean hunkered down a little lower in the front seat of the green Buick, the cracked window making the sunlight shine in colored fragments, like water through a prism. It was a great hiding place, one he'd found for himself after he'd sent Sam off in the opposite direction with the firm warning not to wander too far, and not to climb up any cars. Just pick the ones on the ground, and he'd be fine.

So far, this was a great spot, a little dusty, but still, Uncle Bobby hadn't found him yet, so maybe he could creep out and make his way to home base...

As he moved to get out, his hand came down on the seat, and a cloud of dust puffed up, going straight up his nose. Dean's eyes began to water as his nose started to tickle and itch. He tried his best to hold it in, but the sneeze was relentless.

"Ah-ah-ah-WACHOO!"

Under his breath he muttered, "Damn it!" It felt satisfying to be able to cuss whenever his dad wasn't around. No more had the imprecation escaped his lips than he heard Bobby's steady treads move his way. He hunkered down, covering his nose in the hopes no more dust rose to give him away.

"I heard you, Deano. I know you're here close," Bobby grinned, his amusement filling his gravelly voice.

Dean frowned, none too happy with himself. His knees hurt - the floorboard was littered with dirt and small stones, and they pressed into his skin through his jeans. He shifted position, trying to be quiet, but something moved around behind him, making a grating noise.

Less than thirty seconds later, Bobby's head peeked over the cracked glass of the broken window. "Gotcha, son. C'mon outta there."

Dean hit the ripped seat of the Buick and cussed softly again. "Shit."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow and tried to put on a stern face, even though there was just something funny about someone with such an innocent-looking face as Dean had trying to all tough and swearing.

"None of that. Caught ya fair and square. Now hop on out." When Dean emerged from the car, a little dirty with a sheepish grin on his face, Bobby nodded. "Good hiding spot, Dean," he said, playfully ruffling the young boy's short locks. "But it looks like I'm not so old that I couldn't find you!"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled. "But you've still gotta find Sam!"

Sam had done what his big brother had told him to; he'd found a car that was low to the ground, and had no broken glass or sharp bits sticking out.

In fact, Sam thought as he stretched out in the front seat, the car he's found to hide in was quite nice. He wondered why someone had thrown it away. He giggled softly - it was such a good hiding spot, Uncle Bobby would never find him, and he'd make it back to home base and he'd be the winner!

His thoughts were interrupted, though, by a soft noise coming from... somewhere. Sam looked around. What was that? It sounded like something crying. Something small... and it was coming from under the seat of the car he was hiding in!

Forgetting all about the game and trying to be quiet, Sam got on his knees and looked under the seat. There, he found a tiny kitten. Sam didn't know much about animals - Dad had never let him and Dean have a pet since they weren't ever in one place long enough to have one, but even at his young age, Sam knew the kitten wasn't very old. Definitely too young to be without its mama.

He started to reach under the seat to pull the baby out, and then changed his mind. He frowned, and wondered if maybe he should go find Uncle Bobby to get his help. Nodding, he decided that was the best thing to do. He whispered to the kitten, "You stay here, baby, and I'll go get Uncle Bobby."

He sat up and crawled out of the car, and was just wiping himself of the dust covering him when Bobby and Dean walked his way.

"Sammy? What's going on? You're supposed to hide, doofus!"

Bobby rapped him on the back of the head lightly. "Hey, hey...calm down, kid."

Ignoring him, Dean crossed the short space to stand in front of his brother. "You forfeited."

"Nuh, uh," Sam shook his head. "I found somethin'. Come look!"

Sam reached out for Bobby's hand even as the older man and Dean came closer to the car. Bobby could see that something had troubled the youngster. "Sammy, what's the matter? What did you-?"

"Kitty! There's a kitty in the car, Uncle Bobby!" Sam pointed at the seat and said, "Under there," before moving to stand next to Dean, his eyes wide.

Bobby got closer and, sure enough, he could hear the soft mewling. He moved the seat out of the car since the bottom springs were broken, and revealed a pitiful sight.

On the floor of the car were three kittens - one black with a streak of yellow between its eyes, one fully yellow, and one grey. The little black one was making all the noise, crying in hunger and fear.

It was very obvious to Bobby that the other two bundles of fluff were beyond helping, having succumbed to starvation.

Bobby's voice was sad but firm, "Dean, you and your brother stay back." Bobby reached out, and scooping up the still-living kitten, held the thin creature close to his chest. He knew he'd have to come back out and bury the sad little corpses after the boys had gone to bed.

His face grave, Dean nodded and did as Bobby directed. Taking Sam's hand, he led his brother away, distracting him by telling him how Bobby had found him a little earlier. Even as he did so, Dean was sad that Sammy would have to find out about the two dead kittens. He'd seen them and known immediately they were gone.

When he and Sam got to the porch, George greeted them with a soft 'woof.' Dean ran his hand over the shepherd's head, then opened the screen door and pushed Sam inside ahead of him. "Go get cleaned up, Sammy. I'm gonna see if I can find a box for the kitten."

Sam nodded even as he watched Bobby enter the house, the tiny kitten curled into the man's cupped hands. "Is it gonna be ok, Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked as he met him at the door. "I don't want it to die." Tears began filling his eyes, and one escaped to slide down his dirty cheek.

As much as Bobby wanted to comfort the boy, he knew time was of an essence to give care to the kitten. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected the baby was somewhere around a week old, much too young to survive without its mother, or without human assistance.

A few years earlier, he'd played Mother for an orphaned puppy, so he knew what it took to keep this little one alive. He just hoped it worked, and that the boys wouldn't have to experience their first animal loss.

By late afternoon, Bobby had managed to gather what he needed for the kitten – kitten formula and the bottle needed to feed it – as well as all the other accoutrements such as a way to keep it warm, and an old alarm clock that would act as a mother's heartbeat.

As he took care of the kitten, a little male he'd discovered, he had two assistants in Sam and Dean. Sam was engrossed in everything he watched Bobby do, and whenever asked, made an excellent gofer. Dean, on the other hand, did his best to distract Sam when Bobby asked it of him.

Sam was filled with questions. "Why do you have to wipe his bottom for him, Uncle Bobby?" he asked as the boys watched Bobby gently help the kitten relieve itself.

"Because he doesn't have his mama here to help him." Bobby smiled at the young boy as he explained. "We'll have to do this for a while until he's old enough to take care of things on his own, and start using his litter box."

Dean stood behind Sam, and watched over his brother's shoulder. "He needs a name."

Sam looked back at Dean, and grinned. "Can I name 'im?"

Dean shrugged. "What do you want to call him?"

Sam sighed, and studied the kitten. "I don't know."

Bobby looked at Sam, and commented, "He kinda looks like a bumblebee, with that streak of yellow on his face and back."

Just the word 'bumblebee' sent Sam into paroxysms of glee. "Just like the Transformer!"

Dean sighed and muttered, "Transformers, Sammy? Get real."

Sam was insistent. "Yeah! Bumblebee! That's his name!" He jigged in place, his excitement complete.

Dean gave a bitchface. "Really? Dude, that's a silly name for a cat." He looked to Bobby for support. "Tell 'im, Uncle Bobby. That's not a good name, is it?"

Bobby held the kitten to his chest and gently massaged its' back until he heard a tiny burp. "Sammy found the kitten, Dean. Let him name it."

The elder boy crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. "Whatever. I still think it's silly."

Losing his big brother's respect didn't fall easily on Sam. He slumped beside Bobby on the couch and pouted, his lower lip quivering slightly. "Fine."

Bobby sent Dean a reproving look, and shook his head. "I think it's a fine name, Sam. If you want to name him Bumblebee, then that's what we'll call him."

Sam smiled up at Bobby and, wiping away a tear that had begun to streak down his face, he said, "Maybe we can call 'im Bee, for short." He looked at Dean, wanting his brother to support his choice.

Dean looked at the kitten, now wrapped in a fluffy towel and asleep, and then said begrudgingly, "Bee's ok."

Sam grinned, happy once more. He reached out, wanting to pet the baby then pulled back. "Can we pet 'im?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not yet, son. He's too tiny. Let him get a little older – maybe a couple weeks or so – then we'll see."

Sam didn't like having to wait, but he knew Uncle Bobby knew best. He'd just try really, really hard to be patient.

For more information on how to care for an orphaned kitten, see this web link: Care-for-Orphaned-Kittens-Less-Than-Three-Weeks-of-Age