It was gone four in the morning when Dean spotted the elderly woman shuffling along the road. He'd caught himself glancing at the clock on the dashboard just moments after she entered his vision, wondering what on earth someone could be doing walking dangerously close to zooming cars and trucks at that hour on a day like that day.

Rain poured from the heavens and had done for hours.

The old woman was a grandmotherly figure, curly grey hair that had once been jet black cut short and sensible. Laugh lines covered her wrinkled withering skin and she used a walking stick for support. She could have been fat or slim but no one would be able to tell due to the several layers of clothing she wore including a coat and a raincoat as well as three pairs of socks.

A large backpack rested upon her shoulders. That was what really swung it for Dean, he couldn't see her face but he saw the stick and he saw the hobble and he saw the heavy looking rucksack.

Dean sighed. It was reckless and stupid to stop. Demons had nothing against using the bodies of children, why on earth would they not use a little old lady as a vessel?

Nudging his brother with an elbow he pointed at the figure and then gave a non committal shrug. "Do we give her a lift?"

He didn't bother asking the angel who had taken up residence on the backseat. If he had an opinion he'd give it, that is, if he could form one. Castiel was broken and he couldn't see the cracks let alone try to repair them. If Cas had something to say Dean was quite sure he'd say it.

It probably wouldn't be relevant and it probably wouldn't make sense but it didn't matter because a nonsense talking Cas was better than a completely silent Cas.

Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror, opening his mouth and promptly closing it again when the angel smiled toothily at him and he felt his eyes and nose burning, his throat closing up.

"Not a good idea Dean," Sam hissed as they neared the woman. "Demon, Leviathan, Angel, any sort of monster, human axe murderer-"

Dean laughed. "Rule out human axe murderer, come on, we can take an old woman," he glanced in the mirror. "Cas, she look like a bad guy to you?"

"Thor used to appear like an old woman to people," murmured the angel.

"Are you saying that's Thor?"

"No," snapped Castiel. "She will do you no harm."

Dean had slowed almost to a walking pace. "Come on Sammy, any supernatural creature would be a fool to out in weather like this. Besides, we can do a drip of holy water, and rock salt without looking like madmen. Come on-"

"Dean I don't think it's a good idea," warned Sam.

It was too late. Dean had already screeched to a halt. The woman didn't turn around; instead she continued to trudge on. Beeping the horn Dean leant out of his window as rain and wind howled into the Impala.

"Ma'am?" he called. "Ma'am, do you need a lift?"

She turned cupping a hand to her ear and began to cross over to his window; he gestured that she not walk into the road and forced Sam to roll his window down. Sam leant back away from the splatter of rain and uncorked a holy water bottle as inconspicuously as possible, flicking it at the woman's skin as she neared. Rock salt caused no reaction either but a little confused frown.

"What did you ask dearie?" she asked.

"Would you like a lift?" he raised his voice.

Picking up her trousers she opened the door and clambered in placing her backpack on the seat beside her. She swung her stick in then slammed the door.

The Impale tore away. Dean was about to ask where she was going when her face broke into a wide grin revealing all of her four teeth. "Why if it isn't Castiel," she cried taking down her hood to pat the angel on the shoulder. "You must be the Winchester brothers," she shook her head.

Sam tensed turning around in his seat to look at her, he noted how his brother's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She knows who we are...not good...not good at all. The weather outside was frightful but she wasn't in the slightest bit damp. It was as if the rain had simply moved around her, as if it didn't want to touch her.

"You were always such a good child, always trying to do the right thing, always wanting to play with the big boys," she sighed heavily and began to fumble with her backpack. "Oh Castiel I was sorry to hear about what happened. Always thought it'd be Michael who started it all off though, he was such a bossy child. But Lucifer...he always wanted to play with other people's toys."

Dean's eyes widened, he began to ask questions at the same time as Sam did, struggling to keep his eyes on the road ahead. "Who the hell are you?"

"She's the Nanny of Heroes Dean," whispered Castiel. A whimper formed in his throat.

She reached across patting him on the shoulder then drawing his head to her shoulder, running her hands through his hair. "Oh my darling let it out let it out. I know you're broken I know. Doubt you remember much of me anyway, not many do. Just the idea remains. It's better that way," she smiled reassuringly as she met Sam's eyes. "The journey should be fine, Apollo always did hold me high in his favour, though I must admit Thor was my first and favourite," she found what she was looking for in her bag. "Would anyone like a boiled sweet?"

~SPNSPNSPSNSPNSPN~

They'd left Nanny and Castiel in the motel room before they went to do some preliminary research. They had tried to persuade her to take a separate room but she'd convinced them it wasn't safe for a woman on her own, not knowing what strange men were out there, then she'd cackled madly and winked.

When they explained there was usually only two beds in a room she'd told them she was no maiden and didn't mind sharing wink wink nudge nudge. "After all dears, you're honourable young men aren't you?"

The journey had been smooth; the weather seemed to part to let them through. But the journey had been almost hellish at the same time. Nanny sang along to anything Dean put on and she seemed to know only the rude versions of songs. When Dean had enough and cut the music off she got Sam and Castiel to join in an impromptu sing song, which both finally gave in to after she asked nicely.

"Mr. Grumpy has to concentrate on driving. Don't mind him boys, and a one two three four, if you're happy and you know it-"

It had only got worse. After they'd finished the sing song and all had gone quiet for a few minutes there was a rustle and she had produced three packets of teddy bear potato chips and passed them around. Then she brought out several little pots of fruit, half a packet of ham, and two bottles of squash.

It was then that she began to tell stories. Dean regretted even mentioning the name Crowley when he thought she'd fallen asleep because she sat upright and sprouted a tale about what a dreadful demonic beast the man was.

"Always was a naughty boy. It's down to potty training you know. Calling himself a Prince now is he?"

Shuddering at the memory Dean glanced at his little brother. The bags under his eyes were rough and deep, he was starting to look gaunt. With a shake of his head he dismissed the previous day from his head. They'd driven for most of the day alternating between him and Sammy and by the time he'd crawled into bed he was exhausted.

Because neither of them was prepared to share a bed with the old woman and it felt cruel to do so anyway. Castiel seemed content to disappear for a while and that had still left them with two beds and three people. It had been inevitable.

Dean found sharing a bed with Sam quite pleasant really. It reminded him of times that had been better. Not good, never good. But better, when things were simple and the rules were straight. Look out for Sammy. Salt and burn anything that gets in your way.

Before angels and demons that were more than just evil, before Leviathan and Gods and Apocalypses.

When it had been two brothers and an absent father.

The woman had taken almost an hour to get ready for bed. She'd pottered around in a nightdress for a while, brought out teabags from somewhere in the rucksack and offered everyone a cuppa. Then she'd brushed her teeth and washed her face before tutting at the Scotch Dean was downing.

"I know he drinks too much Sam," she'd murmured quietly. "I know it hurts you. If he carries on he'll be dead before any monster can kill him. And I wonder if he knows that and wants it that way."

Sam didn't like the way she spoke, he didn't like her and he didn't trust her. She told dirty jokes and talked about Bobby like an old friend as if he was still alive and kicking. Said in a drinking contest she'd had him under the table. When she learnt that both he and Dean was esteemed bachelors due to the fact they'd lost so many people they both believed themselves to be beyond redemption she informed them she had many single granddaughters.

Unfortunately Dean didn't think he'd stand a chance with Young Artemis, no matter how nice a girl she was and no matter how much she liked to play with the hearts of broken men.

It worried Sam, her cheeriness, her mentality of trundle along and hope you get somewhere eventually.

They'd made up the need to do a little investigating on their own first. They could have given it a few hours; at least let the clock hit nine before heading out and disturbing people's days with questions about strange occurrences and deaths.

But the opportunity had arisen and they'd taken it, donning their suits and escaping while they still could.

"Just make sure you're wearing vests," she'd howled. "The weather can change aweful quick. And clean underwear. You never know you might be hit by a car-"

They'd waved goodbye and hurried away then. Dean had to confess to himself that it felt better leaving Cas with someone instead of alone. Alone Cas wasn't something he wanted.

"She could be useful," Sam admitted. "Remember what Cas said, Thor used to appear as an old woman, to test people. He rewarded people if they were good to him."

They already had burdens to bear. Dean was well aware of that. Hell he already had burdens to bear. It wasn't often he admitted that. But he was the one left to deal with loopy angels and lost fathers, because losing Bobby was like losing Dad but worse and he hated himself for that. But Bobby had been more of a father to him than his Dad had and it felt so bad to even think it.

But it was true.

He was the one who didn't go off to college; he was the one who was never enough, never Sam. He was the one who died because it was always Sam, his little brother was the chosen one, his little brother was the chosen one.

He was the one who broke in hell and he was the one who made all the mistakes and he was the one no one was the one who had to deal with the loopy angel and the broken brother. He was the one...

He was always the one who had to pick up the pieces.

Because he'd already screwed up his promise, his one job, to protect Sammy, he'd screwed that up.

"Dean?"

They were nearing the first address they needed to visit. No police tape that was always a sign. Not always a good one. But definitely a tell.

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Dean even shed a tear, part of him wanted the man to sob buckets then move on. But an angry single tear over burdens and the guilt he knew he couldn't ever know, in the middle of a street in broad daylight, was not good.

Especially when it came out of seemingly nowhere.

"Dean?"

The older brother's chin trembled. "We don't need another liability Sammy. We did our good deed, we gave her a lift, it's dangerous to keep her around. We'd be responsible for any harm she came to and I don't know if you've noticed but we carry pain and suffering around with us like it's carved into our bones!"

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dean-"

"I don't understand what she is or who," he snapped. "But what I do get is that she's got friends in high places. She looked after Thor when he was a toddler and is the only person I've ever heard refer to Achilles as a very naughty boy! We've got enough to deal with; we do not need more people pissed off at us."

Sam removed his hand quickly. "But there's more isn't there? Dean, what is it? She could be useful; she seems to be able to look after herself. If not just to babysit Cas."

"Damn it Sam she's an old lady. I like her," he swallowed. "You know I really do like her. I don't know why. But she's like the Grandmother we never had. You know? She's a nice old woman and I don't want to know that I got her killed."

"What if we don't get a say in the matter Dean?"

Dean turned on his brother pausing as the mailman had just finished his rounds scampered past them. Quite an early finish for a Saturday, but then it was a nice neighbourhood, probably paid to be efficient around there. He gave the two men a nod before scurrying to his van like a frightened squirrel.

"Do you think we need a Nanny Sam?" he shook his head in disbelief, squinting at the sunlight that reflected off Sam's hair and directly into his eyes. The man took too much care of his hair if it was that shiny. The world would have to be ending before Sam would put up with greasy hair, let alone split ends. Dean held back a chuckle, well aware that he was avoiding any uncomfortable thoughts, well aware that his brother's feminine side was a joke for another day.

No wonder he didn't make a good student. Too fond of hygiene.

Sam's voice faltered, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Mom, not here, not now. Dean met his gaze and both brothers knew what the other wasn't saying and what the other should be saying and neither said anything at all.

"Fine," Dean threw his hands in the air. "Let's get this over with first. Before we figure out what the hell to do next."

Sam sniggered as they walked towards the white washed walls of the perfectly normal house on a perfectly normal street, in a perfectly respectable area. It was some sort of irony, thought Dean, that it was in these types of places the unimaginable happened.

"What?" he demanded.

Sam shook his head wiping his brow. "Thor's Nanny's sitting in our motel room. She's got a backpack that has to be bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, her walking stick if you haven't noticed has a silver tip on the end and she's got enough food, rocksalt, herbs and various amulets in that bag that were gifts she could feed an army and hold off a demon attack for months. And she's a little old lady who wants to pair us off with goddesses, and asks if we're wearing vests!"

Dean laughed. "Goddesses tend to get vengeful. And Nanny gave me a little bar of chocolate this morning for being a good boy. She told me not to tell you."

Sam withdrew a hand from his pocket, holding up a candy wrapper gleefully. "I got one last night."

~SPNSPNSPSNSPNSPN~

Castiel sat on the bed with a book in his hands.

Nanny watched him, her knitting needles clicking to their own tune. She remembered when he'd been just a child, just a little bundle of energy and joy. Always trying so hard to do what was right and not what he was told to do. Always wanting to play with Michael and Lucifer and the older ones. Always wanting to learn.

"Sometimes it's easier to be completely cuckoo than to face all the feelings you should," she told him quietly. "You told that friend of yours, that he didn't think he deserved to be saved. You judged him for that. Tell me, did Dean deserve to be saved?"

Castiel's eyes snapped up. "It wasn't for me to decide. I should not have judged. I followed God's orders."

Nanny didn't look up from her knitting. She liked knitting. Made a teddy bear once. She thought Thor still had it. "It's hard for you lot, having a Father who doesn't know how to show his love and no Mother around. Same for the Winchesters don't you think? Once when you were sad I sat you on my knee and told you that as long as you told the truth your Father would not mind how you felt. Honesty's important. So tell me, do you think Dean deserved to be saved?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Pass me the green ball of wool; I think it'll go with his eyes. Picked it up when I was in Wales, I'll always have a soft spot for the Welsh mountains. Tryfan and Dafydd and them lot," she glanced up. "I knew you'd do great things Castiel. One of my favourites you were, some of them, Achilles, Apollo, them lot, they get a bit pompous. Thor never was. You were always a good boy at heart. Always."

Castiel handed over the wool.

"You fought hard to save Dean Winchester, you know that, and your Father does love you. Even if he's gone AWOL and doesn't know how to show it," she set down her knitting needles. "That man loves you Cas dear. You're as much a brother to him as Sam darling is. You must trust him as he trusted you."

"I do not deserve to be saved Nanny. I deserve to be punished."

She nodded knowingly. "That's what they all say Dear. That's generally how I know it's not true. Now, tell me, what colour scarf do you think Sam might like?"

Author's Note: Now just in case anyone reading hasn't quite got the hang of the whole fanfiction thing- Supernatural is not my creation. That means I don't own Sam or Castiel or the television show or the merchandise. I do however own Dean Winchester- well no actually I don't, just thought for a moment there I might manage to convince someone other than myself that I do. I do have a poster of Dean Winchester which hangs very neatly on a spare section of wall.

This is the first, hopefully not last, Supernatural fanfic I've tried, even though I'm probably considered a sort of vetran in the fanfiction world. I think Dean and Sam need a bit of mothering. This idea started when I was complaining about Mary Sues and asking my dear sister why Dean and Sam always find a teenage girl (little creepy seing as they're quite a bit older than this from Castiel onwards) and happen to fall madly in love with her immediately. Or they find they have a teenage sister, cousin, etc. I was thinking, hrm, yes, they don't get many women who aren't connected to them already on the show and they don't get many men who aren't either for that matter.

But then I thought, hrm, why don't they ever meet strange old women?

So here we go, Thor's Nanny will supply them with endless supplies of cubed fruit and little bottles of water, tales of her younger days to make even Dean blush, drinking games, amusing stories about Gods and temper tantrums and possibly the edge they've always needed.

Read and review please~

Natalie River