Hey Guys! This is my first Supernatural Fic, I apologise if the characters are OOC.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Bobby was awoken in the dead of night by a strangled scream. Within seconds, Bobby was out of his bed and making his way down the hall. When he entered his sons' room, Bobby's heart nearly broke at the sight.

His ten-year old son Dean was sitting up in bed, his eyes frantic and his whole body covered in sweat. Bobby's younger son Sam was curled up against Dean's side, trying desperately to comfort his older brother.

Making his way over to the bed, Bobby knelt by Sam and whispered, "it's alright, Sammy, I'm gonna take care of Dean. You just go on back to bed."

"Ok, daddy," Sam said, after a pause,

"That's my good boy," Bobby said, reaching over and drawing Sam into a quick hug and kissing the top of his head.

Once Sam was settled, bobby turned his attention to his eldest boy. Moving slowly, Bobby made his way to the head of the bed and sat next to Dean. Almost immediately, Dean curled against his adopted father's side and fisted his hands in Bobby's shirt.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby murmured, gently maneuvering the his son so that Dean could lay his head comfortably on his chest, "what's go ya all riled up, boy? Was it a nightmare?" Bobby's only answer was a distressed whimper as Dean's sobs increased in magnitude.

"I'll take that as a yes," Bobby murmured as he stood up and lifted Dean into his arms, settling his son on his hip. It was then that Bobby noticed that his son's pajama pants were wet and Bobby knew it was not from sweat.

Dean must have noticed Bobby's realisation because he immediately began sobbing apologies over and over into his father's chest and begging Bobby not to beat him.

"Aw, kiddo," Bobby murmured sadly as he rested his chin on top of Dean's head, "It must have been a really bad nightmare, you haven't done that since when you first came here."

"I-I'm -hic- s-sorry!" Dean wailed, "p-please d-don't -hic- b-be m-ma-mad!"

"I ain't mad, boy," Bobby murmured, beginning to rock Dean back and forth in his arms.

"Now," Bobby said, once Dean had calmed a bit, "why don't we get ya cleaned up and see what can be done about getting us both some more rest.

Once Bobby had gotten his eldest boy cleaned up, he made his way into the kitchen to get some warm milk and Dean's anti anxiety medication. Heating the milk up on the stove, Bobby grabbed Dean's special cup and crushed up the pills to mix into the milk. Over the past three months, Dean had made tremendous progress with his physical healing. It was the psychological healing that was hell for the boy.

Once he had prepared the drink for his son, Bobby made his way back upstairs to his room. Dean was laying exactly where Bobby had left him on the bed. However, when he saw his adopted father approach, Dean held his arms out expectantly and looked pointedly at the rocking chair in the corner of Bobby's room.

"Alright, alright boy," Bobby chuckled as he lifted Dean into his arms again, "you really are persistent when it comes to this, aren't ya."

Dean gave his dad a cheeky grin before burying his head into the crook of Bobby's shoulder. Smiling gently, Bobby made his way over to the chair and sat down, shifting Dean in his arms so that the boy was leaning against his shoulder.

"Here, boy," Bobby said, bringing the cup to Dean's lips knowing that Dean was too tired to hold the cup on his own, "I got ya some warm milk, it'll help ya sleep."

"I don' wanna go sleep, 'm not tired no more, Daddy" Dean murmured, although his eyelids were slowly drifting closed.

"Of course you're not, champ," Bobby responded, chuckling as Dean quickly finished off his drink and curled against his father.

"Daddy, am I a good boy?" Dean asked after a while, his voice heartbreakingly timid and sad, as if he expected the answer to be no.

"Oh Dean," Bobby murmured, pressing a kiss to his eldest son's head. "Of course you're a good boy! What in the world would make you think that you're not?"

Dean shrugged, burrowing himself closer to his father, his thumb now firmly in his mouth.

Bobby let out a long sigh and decided to drop the subject for now and concentrate on getting Dean back to sleep.

After about twenty minutes, Bobby was almost asleep when he heard the door to his bedroom creak. Opening his eyes, Bobby saw his younger son Sam standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"Hey Sammy," Bobby called, quietly, "I thought you were supposed to be asleep"

"Can I sleep with you and Dean, daddy?" Sam asked in a small voice, "I can't sleep alone."

"Sure, champ," Bobby said, motioning for Sam to enter the room as he stood up from the rocking chair and made his way over to the bed. Laying Dean on the far side of the bed and climbing in himself, Bobby motioned for Sam to lay down next to him.

The eight year old quickly obeyed and lay his head on Bobby's chest. Dean had shifted in his sleep so that he was laying his head on the other side of Bobby's chest and one of his hands had a gently grip on Bobby's T-shirt.

Smiling to himself, Bobby leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Dean's head before doing the same with Sam.

Closing his eyes, Bobby sent out a whisper into the darkness before falling into the deep oblivion of sleep.

"Sleep well, boys, Daddy's here, ain't nothing gonna hurt ya on my watch.