Everything was scary and confusing for the five-year-old who had lost his mother in a strange fire. The fire had destroyed everything he held dear, and especially the home he used to come home to after playing ball with his friends. Now, instead of being tucked in by the warmth of his mother, he was tucked in by the distant hands of his father.
It was okay; he didn't mind it. Turning over on his side, he was instantly greeted by the cartoon-ish smile of the fluffy bear-like figure who had come to keep him company. Bobba was unlike any bear that Dean could ever remember having, but he helped him in more ways than one. Smiling at him, he raised a finger to his lips to remind his visitor to keep quiet. His daddy might not like this visitor.
"No one can see me, Dean, but you."
"Why's that?" Dean whispered.
"Because I'm your very own friend." The bear laughed jovially and patted his stomach cheerfully.
Over the last few months since Bobba had taken up residence in his reality (and wherever they happened to be going at the time), Dean had slowly but surely grown out of the shell he had placed around himself since his mother died. Hardly speaking to anyone, not even his father, Bobba had gotten him to open up in a way that he never did anymore. Instead of quietly taking in the appearance around him, he had started to engage more.
"Do you 'wike Metallica?" Dean paused, pondering his next favorite band. "Or AC/DC?"
"Oh, dude, I have Fade To Black on repeat!"
Dean laughed, the sensation felt foreign to him after so long of hiding it. "That song's okay. But, Bobba, you have to remember one thing." Stopping for dramatic effect, he cleared his throat. "Zeppelin rules."
"No, sorry. I think you have it all wrong."
Dean shook his head. "No. You're the one who has it all wrong."
Dean attributed his love of classic rock to his mother and father. Even though he shouldn't be able to remember it, he had vivid memories of his mother singing a Beatles song to him. The lyrics made no sense to him, but the melody and tone was what stuck with him. It was a loving lullaby she always sang to him when he had a hard time sleeping.
Snuggling under his covers, Dean could remember his eyes fluttering shut whenever she sang to him. Reclaiming that was impossible after she died-his father was often too busy or distracted to sing to him, and it wasn't easy to sing himself to sleep. Gazing at Bobba, he could see a love in his friend's eyes for him. A love that was hard to see from his father nowadays. His baby brother loved everyone, and was always happy to see him, but it wasn't the same.
Having Bobba there, for however long he stayed, was a rare light at the end of the tunnel for him.
