Chapter 7

It was different than when Dad had died.

Dean remembered when Dad had died. He remembered the funeral. He remembered the hordes of people who showed up, bringing casseroles and fruit baskets, dressing in black and sympathetically spending hours and hours in their house trying to comfort their mom. He remembered not wanting any of them to be there. He remembered sitting on the top of the stairs with Sammy, hugging him tightly and glaring at all the people in their house who would not just leave them alone.

He remembered that there had been a few legal things to take care of. He remembered a few men in suits talking to his mom about "John's Will" and "financial obligations".

And he remembered leaving their house for the last time, half of their possessions sold, Sammy's hand held tightly in his while their mother couldn't stop crying in the driver's seat of the Impala. He remembered that he had wanted to cry too. Wanted to cry and hit things and scream at the entire world for doing this to his family.

Dean wasn't crying now. Couldn't seem to get any tears out.

Sammy cried on and off for days. After one afternoon of trying to calm down a crying Sammy for almost an hour, Dean had marched out of the house, grabbed a crowbar from one of Bobby's workbenches and proceeded to beat the crap out of a 1964 Volvo.

Even then he still couldn't cry.

And nobody showed up for the funeral. They didn't even really have a funeral. She was cremated and Dean, Sam and Bobby drove all the way out to the Oregon coast to spread her ashes at sea. It was the only place Dean felt comfortable leaving any memory of his mother. The only place where she would be untouched by whatever evil had taken her from them in the first place.

By far their biggest challenge this time around had been Social Services.

The arguments had started in the hospital, not hours after Mary's death, about "legal rights" and "due process". Bobby had cursed out one or two of them rather nicely at the mention of separate foster homes. Mary's Will had thankfully been located, but she had made very little provisions for the event of her death.

Pastor Jim was the first name on the list. Everyone had been surprised when Bobby had informed them that he knew Jim, but Dean tried hard to not show his. They called Jim on speakerphone, the lawyers and social workers listening in as Jim expressed grief at Mary's death, and even more grief explaining that he could not take custody of the boys, but vouched very strongly for Bobby Singer. Dean listened to the phone call between Bobby and Jim, heart pounding at the discovery that, all along, Pastor Jim had been a hunter.

He wondered if his mom had known.

Probably.

Dean had wanted to continue with the idea that Bobby was their maternal uncle, but Bobby knew that lie wouldn't hold up in court, which was where they were headed one way or another. They settled on the idea that he was an old friend of their father's, who they referred to as "Uncle Bobby".

Dean had sat Sam down one night and they had talked about Bobby. They had known the man less than a month but both of them knew there were no other options, other than splitting up in foster homes which, to Dean at least, was not an option. Even though he liked to complain about them loudly every so often, Bobby had opened his house up to them with little fuss and was fighting hard to keep the two boys together, even if it meant being saddled with them for the rest of his life. Both Sam and Dean agreed that, under the circumstances, Bobby was the best and safest option for them.

It felt like years, but it was only a few weeks before Bobby was legally awarded custody. Social Services would keep checking in on them now-and-then, but Dean wasn't worried. There were so few people who knew them, who cared about them…it wouldn't be long before they simply fell through the cracks. As long as they could keep Bobby out of any legal trouble, he and Sam would remain together, and that was what mattered.

One month after Mary's death, and Dean still hadn't cried.


It had been a particularly grueling day.

Dean was surprised, and even a little cheerful at Bobby's announcement that he got to skip school that day. But his heart had dropped when Bobby had explained why.

It was their last legal battle with anything any everything having to do with Mary.

They had rooted through their townhouse weeks ago, the boys taking a few duffle bags each of clothes and possessions that they needed. Bobby had scoured the house for any more hunting supplies that Mary had been hiding and was rewarded with another box of books and a smaller box of spell work supplies.

Dean and Sam had both agreed that the rest should be sold.

Bobby was reluctant that so much of their past should be parted with, but Dean insisted that they sell it and that Bobby got the money. His cost of living had skyrocketed in the past month with two teenage boys eating him out of house and home. Bobby had finally agreed to sell, but told them both that the money would be put in the bank for the two of them to use later in life.

Turns out there wasn't much to sell anyway.

Bobby took Dean to the auction. He had to be there for legal reasons. Sam probably should have been there as well, but Dean didn't want him to be. It was hard enough watching all their possessions sold to strangers. He didn't need Sammy by his side, his puppy-dog eyes begging Dean to "just keep one more thing".

It only took a short amount of time. They had always lived a bit sparsely, easier to pack up and move that way. In the end, they scraped together about a thousand dollars from all of their possessions. It was a meager reminder of all that they had lost.

Neither of them spoke on the car ride home.

Dean felt the check burning a hole in his pocket and he fought the urge to throw it out the window of the moving car. Stupid money. Stupid car. Stupid auction. Stupid everything. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When they reached the house, Dean made a beeline for the workshop in the back. He ducked down underneath the latest car that Bobby was working on, a '71 dodge charger. Bobby had been teaching him a lot about cars in the past few weeks and Dean had enjoyed working with his hands, getting his mind off of his life. His stupid, stupid life.

As he stared blankly up at the underside of the car, he heard footsteps come towards him and recognized Bobby's worn boots.

"Sam needs to be picked up in about an hour."

Dean made a small noise to indicate that he heard.

"I'll take the money to the bank tomorrow. Make you boys an account."

Another grunt of acknowledgement.

Bobby didn't move. Dean started to feel an unreasonable anger build in him as the man just stood there. Just stood there and wouldn't leave him the hell alone.

Alone, he just wanted to be alone.

It had been a particularly grueling day.

The anger built but Dean didn't move. Just laid there fuming, trying to understand why he was so mad. He shouldn't be mad. It was Bobby. Bobby, who had been doing everything for them this past month. Bobby, who was probably their only friend in the world right now. Bobby, who's life had turned around just as much as theirs had.

He saw Bobby move a bit, turning around, and the car shifted a bit as he leaned up against it, crossing his ankles nonchalantly.

"Listen, Dean. I know you don't want to talk."

Dean closed his eyes at the impending pep talk. He had actually expected this a while ago. Adults always thought that talking fixed things, talking would make things better.

"And I don't blame you. If I were in your place I'd probably be throwing a punch or two."

Dean remained silent.

"But I was in your place, kid. I lost my dad…and my mom."

Well, that was new information.

"I'm not sayin' that I know how you're feeling, cause I don't. I'm just sayin'…" he took a deep breath. "Look, it's easy to be mad about it. Anger's an easy emotion. Everything else is hard."

Dean felt hands start to shake a bit, his jaw clenched.

"And hell, if you ain't one of the strongest kids I've ever met."

A wash of new emotion seemed to sweep over Dean at those words. Before he could figure out what was happening, he felt tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. His fists unclenched, falling loosely down to his sides and the underside of the car blurred in his vision.

Bobby stayed still for a few more seconds before straightening up and walking back towards the house.

The new emotions bombarded him as he felt his anger get shoved back, replaced with fear and loneliness and sadness and guilt and overwhelming defeat. His hands came up carefully in the small space, covering his eyes. His shoulders bobbed a bit from silent sobs that he could no longer contain. He felt the weight of the past month crash down on him all at once and he gasped for breath, the smell of engines and oil around him new and comforting at the same time.

He was grateful for the small claustrophobic space underneath the car, containing him, holding him together as he finally cried.


Bobby had been tactful enough to not mention Dean's red, puffy eyes that afternoon. Dean grabbed the keys for the Impala and told Bobby they'd be back by dark. Bobby made sure they both had a warded necklace and Dean promised to keep holy water and salt on him at all times.

After picking up Sam, Dean drove them both to a nearby state park where they spent the afternoon throwing rocks at geese and walking on the man-made trails through the forests.

Sam didn't question Dean about what they were doing, which Dean was grateful for, and though they seemed to be constantly surrounded by people, both of the boys kept their attention focused on each other.

It was the first time in weeks that Dean had really gotten to spend time just with Sammy. The first time in weeks where the cloud of their mother's death wasn't looming over them. Dean still heard her every time Sam laughed, and Sam still saw her every time Dean smiled. But they held on to each other and, at least for that afternoon, they were not drowning.

That night, after Sam went to bed, Dean got Bobby to agree to teach him how to shoot.


The next year brought on a lot of changes for the Winchesters and Bobby.

For one thing, Sam hit 13 years old, which seemed to trigger what Dean called a "freakish growth spurt", causing Sam to grow several inches within only a few weeks. Sam, for one, was delighted at the changes and constantly annoyed Dean with how he was almost as tall as him. Dean, on the other hand, constantly reminded Sam that no matter how tall he got, Dean would always be older and that trumped everything.

Bobby had taught both Dean and Sam how to shoot. The boys seemed way more comfortable with it than he had expected, but he knew that revenge was always a good motivator. He kept them in school, determined to give them at least some normality in their lives, but Bobby knew that having both a mother and a father killed by a demon would guarantee a life of hunting for both the boys. Whether it was a nearby haunting, or geographical signs of demon possession, Dean and Sam were always keen to investigate.

Like it or not, Bobby couldn't seem to keep the Winchesters away from the Supernatural.

Dean also had a birthday. The January he turned 17, Bobby took him on a hunt. It was supposed to be just a deer hunt, but the Winchesters seemed a magnet for the unnatural, and they ended up taking out a Werewolf, which delighted and terrified Dean at the same time. Sam, who had been forced to stay with Pastor Jim for the weekend, sulked about missing the action. Bobby compromised by letting Sam start reading some of the more questionable books from his massive collection.

The Werewolf hunt spurred on several more weekend hunts…and several more after that. Once he had overcome a few initial fears and doubts, Dean took to hunting like he had been born for it. Sam took more to the academic side of hunting, reading up about the hunts that they went on and coming up with ideas and theories that even Bobby didn't think of right away. While neither Dean nor Bobby let Sam go on the hunts, they eventually started leaving him alone at Bobby's. Between all of the protective measures and his grizzly, newly acquired dog Rumsfeld who watched over Sam like a mother hen, there was probably not a safer place for him.

Bobby introduced Dean to a few of his more trusted hunting buddies, among them were Ellen and Bill Harvell who ran the Roadhouse down in Nebraska. Dean got Bobby's help in outfitting the Impala with a compartment in the trunk for hunting tools. Sam's visions hadn't returned and, unable to come up with a better explanation, Dean and Bobby had chalked that one up to "good luck".

Through it all, the yellow eyes of the demon watched them.

He smiled as his plans fell into place.

Only a bit more motivation was needed.


a/n: First off, I have no idea how child custody gets dealt with, so just roll with it. That being said, I know I crammed a LOT into that last little bit, but I wanted a sort of transitional, passing-the-time chapter, showing things getting back towards the cannon a bit, but not completely cause that would be boring. I tried to make Bobby's actions as realistic as possible, in terms of letting the boys hunt. Surely he wouldn't want to, but how would he keep them away from it? Answer: he couldn't. There will be a bit of a time jump next chapter and I will include some flashbacks onto the years that I'm just kind breezing by. I've actually be contemplating starting a sequel and just ending this one here with that last part as sort of an epilogue. Let me know what you think.