Hello everyone,
Yes, I´m still alive, though I have not written a story in what feels like a lifetime…
I would like to take a moment to sincerely apologize to those of you who have read my unfinished stories. I´m so, so sorry, but at least I have now decided to never, ever post anything before it is finished. So there is that.
This is also my very first time writing fanfiction for anything other than LOTR. I have been reading lots of beautiful SPN fanfiction for years now. There is a ton of insanely talented authors in this fandom (I mean, K. Hanna Korossy, for example, writes better stories than the ones that get officially published for SPN) so there certainly is no new author needed.
But after the announcement that the show would end after its 15th season I decided to not just wallow in sadness but write some SPN H/C instead. This little plot bunny has probably visited countless writers before me, but I just had to write a little "How Bobby met the boys" story.
It´s not betaed, so all mistakes are my own. Constructive criticism and feedback are always more than welcome.
Alina
P.S: Why the hell did I think Bobby´s wife´s name was Helen? Changed it to Karen, as it should be. Sorry, Karen ;-)
Hunter´s Nursery
He picked up on the second ring.
"Singer."
"Winchester."
Balls. Of all people. Bobby sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. There were days when he seriously asked himself what idiot demon had possessed him to become the hunting community´s one-person 911 center.
"What?" he asked gruffly, absently swiping some papers off his overloaded desk and fishing for a pen. Because Winchester was not wheezing as if he was dying, and besides being the 911 phone dispatcher, Bobby was also the hunters´ world´s number one secretary. And researcher. It was what most hunters called him for. Had looked up a charm to dispatch of a love-sick zombie and a cure for a ghost-snake´s bite already today. Good times.
"Need a place to crash." A pause. "Not for myself."
And hotel manager. Bobby threw down the pen with a clatter.
"No money left for a room?" he asked, allowing annoyance to seep into his voice. He had met John Winchester only once, on a joined hunt that had been successful but had also driven home the point that the guy was as possessed as any demon Bobby had ever had the displeasure of meeting. The man had driven the other hunters mercilessly, eager for a swift kill. He had disappeared without a word afterwards, off to the next hunt. Freaking annoying.
"Shouldn´t pick up company if you ain´t got no money for a frigging room."
Another pause. Some rustling in the background and a dry, painful-sounding cough.
"Company´s sick. Not bad enough for a hospital, but he ain´t good on his own."
Oh. OK. How could he have forgotten that he was a darn doctor´s office, too. But there was no denying a fellow hunter a place to heal up. It was code. At least for Bobby.
"How long?"
"An hour, maybe less."
Bobby hung up then. No need for pleasantries. Plus, he had a room to air out.
He got up and stretched kinks out of his back with a groan. He had fallen asleep at the desk again, and that habit wasn´t doing him any favors. But at least it had left him right next to the phone, ready to be of service again. For John -never-pause-for-a-thank-you-frigging-Winchester. He huffed on his way to his stash of meds. Pretty certain that the guy would not drop off his sick friend with even the barest essentials, and considering that Bobby sort of planned on at least getting a little sleep tonight, it was better to be prepared.
A short while later Bobby had arranged some heavy-duty pain killers (cause he knew enough hunters who could not sleep without them, injured or not), cough syrup that was not quite past its expiring date and a bottle of water on the night stand of his guest room. Or at least, it used to be called his guest room. Now he had secretly dubbed it the hunter´s nursery. Or not so secretly. He chuckled to himself at the memory of that moron Rufus´ face when he had called it that.
"Not a frigging baby, Bobby", the idiot had complained, though at the time, complaining had been a pretty bad idea considering that the hunter´s throat had still been almost swollen shut after a ghost had tried to strangle him to death. With a silk tie of all things. Bobby had had a great time taunting him for the fact that even ghosts knew he was a sissy and allowed only the best materials to touch his stellar body – even when in the process of getting killed.
Well. Truth be told that he had not felt a lot like joking for a while there at first. Not while he had still been trying to figure out how to save that stupid idiot´s life. It was not like running a salvage yard had made him an expert in first aid, and he would probably never understand why Rufus had dragged his choking ass to him instead of the nearest hospital. Probably a money-thing, though. Rufus was ever practical.
And, essentially, the reason why Bobby had gotten this frigging job-at-the-side in the first place. Because after the choking incidence, Rufus had used Bobby´s house as a short-time home base to research his next case. So Bobby had gotten some books to add to his supernatural library – now sitting next to the volumes on demonic possessions that he had already collected due to Karen.
And Rufus had not stopped there. No. he had called other hunters, giving away Bobby´s number like frigging Halloween candy, and before he had known what was happening he had had this whole new life acting mother-hen to the world´s most crazy group of people.
Though, fact being that his original plan had been drinking himself to death at that point in his life, maybe the change had not been all that bad. Unless it involved helping effing John Winchester. And thinking of the devil… Bobby could now hear the rumble of an approaching car through the open window.
"All your frigging fault, Rufus", Bobby growled towards the empty bed as if it still held the offending hunter. Then he squared his shoulder and walked off to welcome the newest guest to his house of wonders.
Winchester had already stepped away from his car, surveying the dark salvage yard like a hawk. Looking for a threat. Or a hunt. Ever the hunter.
"Should not have come here if you thought it was not safe", Bobby huffed as way of greeting. "Should know the place was warded."
The other hunter shrugged. "Never know. Not like you are perfect or anything." His smile was easy and oh-so-not-welcome.
Bobby looked away from him at the car instead, because that, at least, was a beauty. If the man knew nothing else, he knew how to pick a ride.
"So, am I getting a guest now or what?" Bobby groused at the Impala. "Not like I have all night."
There was a short pause, and for the briefest of moments Bobby almost felt as if John Winchester, who as far as he knew cared for nothing but the hunt, was reluctant to leave his buddy in Bobby´s care. The moment passed quickly, however. "Dean!" Winchester called roughly, "get a move on. You heard the man!"
The back door of the sleek car was already open, and as Bobby watched, a surprisingly slender person appeared as whoever was in the car seemed to crawl out backwards.
Now, ever since his wife´s passing, Bobby had learned that being surprised did not do you any good in the crazy world of demons and monsters that he had been thrown into. So he had essentially stopped being surprised at anything and had learned to take headless apparitions, talking trees and actual frigging witches in stride.
But he could not quite hold back his sound of surprise when he saw that the hunter he had thought would recover in his back-room turned out to be two boys – frigging children for crying out loud! The older boy might have been almost a teen – it was not like Bobby was a effing expert on frigging children - and he had pulled a smaller kid out of the car with him who now stood with his arms around the older kid, coughing harshly into his midriff, face hidden. Swell.
"Really, Winchester?" He turned to the waiting hunter, feeling his blood boil. "I look like effing Mary Poppins to you?"
The man shrugged, a defiant look on his face. "Said I could bring ´em", he ground out. "Not like I had much of a choice." He glanced towards to boys, face unreadable, before turning back to Bobby. "Usually stay by themselves these days."
"Could", the younger kid wheezed, muffled against the older one´s shirt, "could just…" Whatever else he had meant to say dissolved into another coughing fit.
The older boy was silent, face stoic, though one arm clutched the younger kid to him, the other hand rubbing circles on his back. He didn´t say anything, but stared at Bobby with eyes that were at least three times the age of the rest of his body. It was downright creepy.
Bobby had not even known John Winchester had children, though, come to think of it, he might have heard rumors at some point. Whispered conversations, usually after a beer or two too many, because generally hunters did not care to lecture others for their style of living. But hunting with young kids, dragging them all over the place – now that might ruffle even this community´s feather. Not that Winchester seemed to care.
Bobby turned back towards the other hunter with the clear intention of sending him and his charges on his way again – it was not like the kid was dying, was it? – but instead what came out of his mouth was: "Fine. But only a coupla days." Darn. Surprised twice in one night, and this time by himself no less. Could not be a good sign.
Winchester had already set his mouth in a way that suggested he had expected a rejection, clearly caught off guard, too. Good. At least Bobby had not only surprised himself.
His unwelcome guest hesitated and looked at the boys, holding the older one´s gaze for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Good" was all he said, already striding past Bobby towards his car. He dug a duffle bag out of the trunk and dumped it next to his feet before stepping towards the boys.
"You take care of your brother", he told the oldest and briefly clamped his hand around his neck, then ruffled the younger boy´s hair. "And you be good."
A quiet duet of "Yes, sir"s answered him, and then he was in the car and drove off into the night. Just like that.
When the roar of the engine had finally died away and they were surrounded by nothing but dark silence and a few aborted coughs, Bobby sighed and decided to take this show on the road. Not like he could help it now, and besides, what was the difference, really? He would drop the kids into the nursery – which had never had a more fitting name, come to think of it – and then go to bed. Just like planned, piece of cake.
He went to grab the abandoned duffel only to realize it was already over the older boy´s shoulder, who now waited and stared at him again. The younger boy´s face was still buried in his shirt. Darn, Bobby had met ghosts that were both more talkative and less creepy than these two.
"So, Dean, is it?" Bobby said as he turned towards the house. "What´s the squid´s name?"
"Sam", came the reply, but nothing else was forthcoming. Good because honestly, Bobby did not feel much like small talk either. Frigging kids in his frigging house! Karen would have… He resolutely pushed the thought away. It was only temporary anyway. It had to be. From what he had heard, kids were terribly destructive creatures. And messy. Not that either of these mattered so much in his house anyway, but still
"Only got one bed", he belatedly realized out loud when their little caravan had arrived in the back room.
Dean was already squeezing himself and Sam past Bobby, making a bee-line for the bed. "Doesn´t matter", he said as he eased the younger one down onto the mattress, "need to share anyway. Keep a tab on this fever."
Darn, the kid talked short-hand like a frigging hunter. It should have made Bobby feel right at home but unnerved him instead. "I´ll grab you some extra bedding then", he said and was glad to be out of the room. His room in his effing house. This was going to be a long coupla days.
When he returned, Dean had already changed himself and his fever-flush brother into sweats. Their clothes lay neatly folded on the chair. Huh. Maybe not that much trouble after all.
He handed Dean the extra pillow and blanket, which he took and carefully arranged next to his dozing brother.
"Gotta loo, sir?" he asked then and after Bobby had pointed at the door across the small hallway – very convenient, that small bathroom – he quietly added: "Stay with him for a minute?"
"Sure." No big deal. Bobby had looked after a hunter who had lost half his blood to a vamp earlier that month, so what was a boy with a cold? Rather peacefully resting, too. Easy.
Only, said boy seemed to have some sort of build-in radar when it came to the presence of his brother, because as soon as Dean was out of the room, Sam stirred. "De?" he asked drowsily, one hand sneaking out from under the covers, searching.
"De?" His voice rose a little, beginning to sound fretful, and the reply from the bathroom was immediate. "Right here Sammy. Just taking a leak."
"Oh", the younger kid sighed, but his hand was still restless. Bobby hesitated for only a moment, then stepped closer and took it. Would not do to have the kid roll off the bed or anything like that. Might even make him puke, and wasn´t that always a mess.
To his surprise – darn again… he should stop counting – the boy flinched at the touch, as did Bobby. Geez, that little guy was burning up.
"Sorry kiddo. Didn´t mean to startle you or nothin´", he mumbled. The boy had turned onto his back now, and man, those huge brown eyes staring up at him with a mixture of apology and confusion could not be natural. Bobby briefly wondered whether all young kids looked like that, because so far he had never bothered to pay attention, but then decided to be practical instead.
"Gotta get that fever down. Hold on." Good thing the painkillers also worked well against fevers. Bobby shook one out of the container and grabbed the bottle of water.
"Ok, gonna touch you again and get you upright, ya hear?" Bobby told the boy and waited for the slightly confused nod before he took the kid´s arm and slowly pulled him into a sitting position. Would have gone straight down again like cooked noodles, of course, but Bobby was a pro at this. It had been years since Rufus´ first injured visit here, and many hurt hunters had since occupied this bed. Only none had ever been this small.
He slid in behind Sam, feeling him stiffen but not fight, and then worked to arrange himself in order to feed the boy the medicine. Sam did not relax at all as he fumbled with the pill, and Bobby concluded that its painkilling properties might come in handy, after all.
He had almost figured out what to do with the medicine, the water bottle and the boneless, overheated kid in his arms when there was a sudden snarl and his hand was violently slapped to the side, sending the pill flying. Before he could even muster a response, Dean hissed at him: "Are you crazy? You trying to kill my brother?"
Oh boy, and he had thought Sam´s doleful eyes had been out of this world. Faced with the piercing green stare that the older boy held him with now – and seriously, had his eyes even been green before he had gone to the bathroom? – he was glad he had stared down witches not too long ago. It enabled him to plow past his momentary shock and right on into anger at the boy´s insolent behavior.
That was until he suddenly realized just why Dean was so furious and his anger washed right out of him, leaving him cold with shock. "I – I didn´t realize…" He stopped himself from stuttering and squared his shoulders instead. "Sorry, kid", he said truthfully, "only ever take care of grown hunters. Not used to squids." Squids who, naturally, could not take heavy-duty medication meant for grown-ups.
Dean stood in front of him posed for a fight, fists balled, and it obviously took him a moment to realize just what Bobby had said to him. Honest surprise showed on his face, but only for a moment before a mask of indifference slipped back onto his features. Though Bobby could see straight through it. There was nothing indifferent about a young boy who had obviously paid close attention to what kind of medication had been sitting on his night stand.
Dean shrugged.
"I´m used to squids", he said. "Take care of that one all the time, right bro?"
It was only now that Bobby remembered that he actually held a boy against his chest, not some sort of over-heated doll, and he patted Sam´s shoulder in apology. "That right, son?" he asked, and at Sam´s croaked "Yeah" he began to slip out from behind him, looking at Dean as he did so. "Ok, means this old man should get out of the way and let the pro get to work."
Dean caught on right away and swiftly took his place behind Sam, who, Bobby noted with a mixture of relief and astonishment, melted right into him, stiff muscles loosening without trouble. "Don´t feel so hot, De", he mumbled, turning his face in an attempt to snuggle into his brother´s chest.
"That so?" the older boy replied in a light-hearted tone that totally belied the worry and bone-deep exhaustion on his face. "Feel plenty hot to me, kid. Here, swallow this." He held another pill – this one squid-friendly, Bobby assumed – to his brother´s mouth, gently keeping him from turning any further, and waited for him to take it. He followed this up with some water, expertly fed, not even a drop spilled. Bobby was growing more impressed by the minute.
Dean put the water bottle back onto the night-stand and slid down a little in the bed. Sam went with him and, finally allowed to turn, and snuggled into his brother with a sigh.
"Dude, don´t get your snot all over me", Dean groused, but it was a half-hearted protest at best. He did not even attempt to push his brother´s face away. Instead, he settled an arm across the younger boy´s back. "Man, you are a freaking furnace. No way I´m gonna sleep like that." He turned and shot a look at Bobby that was no longer murderous, but certainly pointed.
And Bobby could take a hint when he got one. "Gonna turn in now", he declared as if it had been his idea and he had not just been dismissed from his own effing hunter´s nursery. "Holler if ya need anything, but don´t go expecting room service."
Dean huffed what might have been a laugh at that, but it was all the attention Bobby got before he turned it back towards his brother.
"Really Sammy, couldn´t you have decided to get sick closer to Pastor Jim´s? Never had to frigging save you from wrong pills there."
"Wh´s ron witha pill?" came the sleepy reply and Dean chuckled, tired but real. "Nothin´if it puts you out, squid. Now shut up and sleep so I can, too."
Only, he wouldn´t. Bobby could see it even as he glanced into the room one more time while sliding the door shut. As relaxed as Dean´s posture looked, lying back against the pillow with his brother cradled against him, this was not a young boy about to sleep. This was a hunter keeping vigil, as true as Bobby had at that idiot Rufus´ bedside. Minus the cuddling, that was.
Bobby closed the door with a snort. "Idjit", he mumbled, unsure whether he meant Dean for being a grown up when he should have still been a boy. Or John for letting him get that way. Or Rufus, just on principle. Or himself, for ever letting such crazy people into his life.
Hell yeah, he was probably the biggest idjit of all. Bobby shook the head at himself, climbing the stairs and trying not to contemplate his friggingly messed-up life, unaware that pretty soon he would stop thinking of the back room as the hunter´s nursery, dubbing it the boys´ room instead.