Next up in John Winchester: Not the Worst Parent Ever, we have Part 2: Bobby Singer Wasn't Automatically Awesome. (He had to work at it just a tiny bit.)

Bobby was laid up gimpy from a spoilt drama queen of a frustrated spirit, and his usual partner Rufus was across the country giving Harvelle a hand with a particularly vicious coven. That left just John Winchester to take on the jealous teenaged ghost before she broke any more aspiring theater students' legs. It wasn't that he'd only been Hunting for a few years, Bobby thought sourly. Though in a perfect world Bobby would like to give the man a partner for backup, he'd been well trained by Daniel Elkins, one of best out there, and the world was full of Hunters who muddled through however they could manage. No, the problem lay in the responsibility John wanted to saddle Bobby with while he was gone working the case.

"I guess I just plumb forgot scrawling "Professional Babysitter" across the sign for the scrapyard I run," Bobby muttered, pointedly loud enough that John couldn't miss it. "Because you know what goes together better than chocolate and peanut butter? Kids just old enough to run around getting into trouble, and towering stacks of rusting metal and car parts."

Bobby directed a scowl at the children in question, who, as though trying to prove their maturity, sat quietly across his living room and stared at him with hopeful faces. The younger one was hugging a stuffed dog. "I'm real good at keeping Sammy out of trouble, Mister Singer," the older one declared earnestly, all of seven years old and looking crushed when Bobby snorted disbelievingly.

"The first five sitters I called were all busy sitting for kids whose parents were going the big play production tonight," John told Bobby. "You want me to cool my heels until Monday morning when it's a decent hour to ask around, or you want me to go take care of this thing before any more of the cast gets hospitalized?"

Bobby was a big old pushover, was the problem.

"Take cawe of Beaw too?" Sammy asked, waving the stuffed dog.

"He means Bear," Dean explained. "Bear is the name of his dog."

"Ok, I got that," Bobby told him. "Yeah, alright. Git outta here and we'll manage for a day or two. Idjits," Bobby added for good measure. All three Winchester gazes snapped to him in varying degrees of shock, alarm, and hurt. "Sorry," he added self-consciously. He really wasn't used to kids, dammit.

"Can I have a word with you, Singer?" John asked, gesturing to the porch. Bobby sighed, heaved himself onto his crutches, and followed John out the door, shutting it behind them.

"You can't call Dean names like that," John was saying urgently, every inch the anxious parent instead of professional hunter. "I know, I'm sorry I'm imposing them on you like this, but he's not like other kids. He'll take everything you say to heart."

Bobby's leg was hurting and he was skeptical. "Kids take everything personal, sure, but they're tough. They get over it just as quick."

"Sammy, maybe. Other kids Dean's age. Not Dean." John ran his hand over his head, frustrated, knowing his words weren't convincing Bobby yet.

"He's had to grow up too fast in a lot of ways. And it hasn't been easy, losing his mom and me having to work, but he doesn't complain and he doesn't shirk, and if you say you want to hang the moon in your outhouse for a nightlight, he's the kid who'll set off to fetch it down for you or pass out trying."

John looked at Bobby, making sure he was listening. If Bobby was nothing else, he was a good listener. "He's a good kid, and I wish like hell I could tell him to just be a kid 'cause there ain't nothing to worry about, but I ain't that good a liar."

Bobby sighed, accepting. "I'm a cranky old geezer, John, but I'll make sure he knows I don't mean it. You watch your ass out there, and come back in one piece."

John nodded, gripped Bobby's arm briefly, and turning, stepped inside for a few minutes to say goodbye to his boys, then came back out and strode easily down the stairs and into his well-cared-for old muscle car. Bobby limped back inside. Sammy was making his stuffed dog sniff around all the corners of the room, and Dean was hovering anxiously over him. Dean looked up immediately when Bobby came in, trepidation clear on his face.

"Alright, Dean," Bobby started. "If you're staying here, I've got some lessons on something for you. It's a very important skill for any hunter to know," he added.

Dean stood up very straight and looked Bobby in the eye. "Yes, Sir," he said.

"Kid, we're going to learn all about the art of sarcasm," Bobby informed him, collapsing back onto his couch and grinning a little at Dean's confused look.

"You're going to teach me sarcasm?"

"I am. Learn it well, and a good knack for sarcasm'll take you far in life."

End.

Author's Notes:

I wanted to offer an explanation other than 'John was abusive' for Dean's kicked puppy look: namely, that Dean was the kind of child who would react like the world was ending if John so much as gave him a disappointed look. (See 1x18 Something Wicked, 5x16 Dark Side of the Moon.)

And then I wanted to see John understanding this about Dean and explaining it to Bobby, who, let's face it, can be rough around the edges. It's a lot easier (and you get less flak) being the cool uncle. That said, Bobby's still awesome because he can't not be.

*steps off soapbox, looking embarrassed*

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