Bobby's Day
The Impala left a cloud of dust floating through the air as it sped away from the junkyard. Sam and Dean watched it go. Bobby stood behind the boys, a hand on Dean's shoulder and the other ruffling Sam's hair. He bad for the boys, he really did, getting dropped like luggage when their dad couldn't find the time to take care of them. But while he knew it was a crap situation for the boys, the few days that John left them with Bobby were the highlight of his week. Hell, sometimes the highlight of his year. He looked down at the boys and smiled.
"Alright, boys. Let's get you settled." Bobby led them into his house, already thinking about what he could do for the boys over the next couple days to give them a chance to be regular kids.
After a day spent laughing and running around the park, Sam and Dean found their way up to the room they shared at the top of the stairs. They collapsed on the beds, fully clothed and exhausted. Dean was prepared to fall asleep then and there when Sam's little voice found its way to him through the darkness.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"Tomorrow is Father's Day."
Dean rolled on his side to look at his little brother. "And?"
Sam mirrored him, leaning his cheek on his little fist. "Dad's not here. What do we do?"
"Nothing, Sammy," Dean sighed. "We do nothing."
They went to sleep without saying another word.
The next morning, Dean woke up with a fistful of glitter covering him from head to foot. He sat up quickly to see the entire room looked like an arts and crafts store had exploded. And sitting in the middle of all of it, completely covered in glitter and scraps of paper, was Sam.
"Sam!" Dean hissed. "Bobby'll kill us! What are your doing?"
Sam looked up at his older brother and Dean paused in his scolding. For a seven year old, Sammy sure looked serious and mature sometimes. His wide hazel eyes were full of the determination and stubbornness that was apparently a genetic trait of the Winchesters. Dean could already tell arguing would be useless.
"I'm making Bobby a Father's Day card."
Dean sighed and climbed off the bed, only to step in another pile of glitter. He gave Sam a look. This time he at least had the decency to look a little guilty.
"Bobby isn't our dad, Sam."
"But Dad isn't here. And Bobby loves us." Sam said and Dean caught a hint of tears in his little brother's eyes. He realized how hurt Sam was that their dad had left them behind and he wondered when that had started. Dean sighed again and kneeled next to Sam in the mess.
"Alright. I'll help." Sam smiled and went to hug Dean, but was stopped when Dean put a hand up. "Don't even think about it, glitter boy."
Sam smiled and went back to gluing and cutting.
A few hours later, the boys came downstairs, hands behind their backs. Bobby didn't look up until they were standing right in front of him.
"Good morning, boys – what in the HELL happened!"
Dean and Sam were covered in an assortment of craft materials. Dean had artificial feathers in his hair and sticking to his neck along with a fine sprinkling of glitter and paper scraps. Sam, on the other hand, was completely covered in glitter, as if he had dumped buckets of it on the floor and rolled in it. Bobby's eyes were wide as he surveyed the mess that the boys were. Sam stepped forward after a moment.
"We made you this," he said, and held out a piece of paper. Bobby took it with some trepidation, wary of the glitter, but after glancing up to see Sam's half hopeful, half apprehensive face, he opened it.
Inside the card, there were three stick people drawn. The two littlest were obviously Sam and Dean, distinguishable by the spikey hair on one and the long hair on the other. In between the two little stick figure-Winchesters was Bobby, with his hat and beard, holding both of the boys' hands. In big letters above that, written in crayon, were the words "Happy Father's Day, Bobby!" Besides the drawing, the thing was covered in the craft supplies that had made its way onto Sam and Dean.
Bobby felt tears well up in his eyes. He had thought that hi chance for something like this had come and gone. He had never imagined that the boys would do something like this. He was silent for so long that Sam started to shuffle nervously.
"Do you like it?" He asked shyly.
Bobby pulled him into a hug and then reached for Dean.
"Thank you, boys," he said gruffly, trying not to let them see the tears in his eyes. Sam smiled up at him and then wiggled free to go skipping down the hall, leaving a trail of glitter in his wake. But Dean was looking very closely at Bobby and saw that Sam's gift had meant more to Bobby than probably anything else.
The next day, John came to pick up the boys. He packed all the boys' bags in the impala and talked to Bobby about his hunt. Sam and Dean were running around, laughing, when John told them it was time to leave. For a moment, Sam's face fell and he ran to Bobby, hugging his legs. Bobby patted him on the head and then watched as John led his youngest to the car. When both the boys were in the car, John turned to Bobby with a strange look on his face.
"Bobby, why is there glitter in Sam's hair?"