A/N: You guys are amazing! Please keep up the lovely comments as they make me insanely happy! Here is the next chapter; I realized I have ignored Bobby, so here he is. The next chapter is already in the works. I am going to be spending a few chapters on Sophie and Dean's trip, so let me know if you guys want to see anything in particular and I'll see if it fits. :D


Bobby waved Sophie and Dean off and waited on the front porch until the Impala was nothing more than a black speck in the distance. Suddenly, the solitude hit him and his own breath sounded too loud in his ears. For the past two years, the only time he had the house to himself was when Sophie spent the night with someone. This felt different―maybe it was indicative of how it was going to be once Sophie left for school.

Walking back into the house, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness, he couldn't say he was fond of it.

There was no ah-ha moment―no point in time that he just knew she had become a necessary part of his life. Thinking back, it was probably when he opened the door and saw her standing next to her social worker. Since then, she just fell into place, filling a spot in his life he never knew he wanted, but now that he had it, he didn't want to give it up.

Looking after Sophie was different than the boys though. When John dropped the boys into his life, he immediately accepted them; it didn't take more than a full day before he was willing to jump in front of a bullet for them. However, in the end, he had no real control over their lives―John made sure of that. But, Sophie was his responsibility and if he could say so himself, he didn't do a half bad job the past two years. Sophie graduated from high school, she was heading to college in the fall, she didn't have a kid (one of his biggest fears when she moved in), and she seemed pretty happy most of the time―it was better than his daddy ever did for him and better than he ever thought he could.

That's not to say that they didn't have their rough patches…

Getting her to talk was the first hurdle. With that great start, it could really only get better; but, Bobby hadn't fully realized that with the talking, came the talking back. If it had been Sam or Dean, he would've just slapped them upside the back of the head and told them to knock their crap off―but Sophie wasn't a boy and she wasn't raised the way they were.

To an outside observer, their arguments were probably amusing; Lord knew Jim and Johnny had chuckled over it plenty―to see the grizzly hunter that could cow the surliest hunter into shape, rip his signature hat off his head and smash it into a ball to keep from shaking the teenage girl going toe to toe with him, hands on her hips, arguing that she was going to wear makeup whether he liked it or not, was the most hilarious thing they'd seen in a long time. It was times like that he thought back on her silent months with fondness, but even then, her glares spoke volumes.

Then, like a plague of locusts, came the boys. He would give his right arm to have Sophie take after him in looks, or that it was socially acceptable to beat teenage boys away with a baseball bat. He wasn't too worried about Sophie, but if he thought hard enough, he could remember what being a teenager was like. Not to mention, the teenager he had the most contact with was Dean and he created a far from reassuring picture of teenage hormones. He tried his best to keep his fears from preventing Sophie from making her own mistakes, but it was damn hard when he caught the Miller boy following them around the grocery store.

It was probably impossible to count all the things he did wrong―hovering when she needed space, not asking the right questions, being an obviously horrible option when it came to boy problems. However, there was one thing he could guarantee he got right―letting John drop the boys off when Dean was hurt.

At first, he had been terrified; there were too many things that could go wrong having them all in the same place. Sophie could find out about hunting, Dean could end up treating her like all the other girls in his life, or they could just not like each other. At best, he hoped that they would at least talk to each other; he never expected them to hit it off like they did.

Recognizing that she was hurting the same way he had after the fire, Dean took a completely different approach with Sophie than he normally did with girls. Then, he took it a step further and became her friend, deciding that she was going to get the same protection he gave Sam.

Dean's trust was hard to earn; Bobby found that out when Dean glared at him for picking Sammy up and placing him on top of some stacked phone books, looking adorably intimidating in his Batman pjs. Not many people managed to break passed his initial layer of distrust and even fewer got close enough to be considered worthy of being protected—and that boy's protection was better than having a personal army. It was like he had a danger radar for you and if there was even the slightest blip he would come running, ready to help regardless of any threat to himself.

Some might find it annoying―he often bordered between concerned parent, to older brother, to jealous boyfriend, but Sophie accepted it in stride. It didn't take her long to realize where it came from and how a simple nod or hand on the arm could get Dean to calm down.

Sophie was good for Dean too―she gave him an actual friend.

The Winchester lifestyle was not exactly conducive to friend making. For Sam it was easy, he showed up in a new town and after an hour, just about every family was willing to take him in. Dean didn't have that luxury―he was surly, defensive, sarcastic, and everyone knew that if you messed with Sam Winchester, you'd better be prepared to lose a few teeth. Teachers brushed him off, other teens steered clear, and girls fell for him the second his booted feet crossed the school's threshold, but they'd never consider bringing him home to meet the parents.

And that was what he wanted people to do. His job was to protect Sammy, not make Mrs. Johnson love him. Well, that might be what achieved his goals, but it wasn't what he really wanted. He would never say it, but watching Sammy run off with new friends always felt like a kick in the gut. He told Sammy he didn't mind, that he was going to stay in and clean the weapons, but what else was he going to do? Sam was his go to source of entertainment—they would sneak into movies, go swimming, or just hang out, which always descended into them wrestling around and trying not to break something in their motel room. But, when Sam made friends, it was like Dean became last year's toy—until Sophie came along.

Suddenly, Dean had someone to call when Sam ran off to grab ice cream, someone who was a constant. It took Dean so long to open up and trust people that the constant moving meant he was never going to find someone to talk to. Sophie was different; they might not get to see each other as often as they wanted, but they were always available for calls. They tried to talk to each other at least a couple times a week. Sometimes when Dean was on a hunt, calls were postponed, but they always made up for it later. Bobby would never purposefully listen in on their conversations, but he always heard snatches—Sophie telling Dean about a test or laughing and telling Dean that he deserved to have part of his eyebrow shaved off if Sam was walking around missing a strip of hair off his head.

It didn't change Dean's behavior every time they hit a new town, but it did mean that for a couple of hours a week and when they were at Bobby's, Dean could be himself with someone other than his brother. When Sophie became friends with Dean first, Bobby caught the same slightly jealous looks on Sam's face that he had found on Dean's. But, Sam didn't have to worry about being left behind because it was impossible to have one Winchester without the other.

Anyone who had met them knew that Sam and Dean came as a package deal, so it was only natural that Sophie became friends with the younger Winchester as well; however, it wasn't the same kind of friendship that she had with Dean. It was easy to lump Sam and Dean into the same category—hell, half the time their names ended up coming out SamnDean. But, after silently observing the two of them, Sophie realized that they needed different things out of a friend.

Although Sam made friends quickly, he always felt like the odd one out; moving constantly meant that he was always the new kid and was always trying to avoid unwanted attention from his classmates—which meant every time he figured out a math problem, or knew the theme of the book they were reading, he would all but sit on his hands to keep them from shooting up with the answer. He would always answer if called on and his homework was impeccable, but he always held back in order to avoid being labeled a nerd and missing out on getting invited to hang out. And it was a damn shame because Sam was smart―smarter than most people Bobby had ever met, young and old.

That's not to say that Dean was dumb, he was just smart in different ways― ways that Bobby and other hunters could understand, even if they couldn't figure out how he did it. Where Sam was all logic, Dean was all intuition. Give Sam a problem and he could instantly break it into its various parts and give you an answer with detailed explanations. Dean would look at the same problem, give you a completely different answer, but when you asked how he knew, he would just shrug. Then, for some unknown reason, they'd both would end up having similar results.

Dean could do amazing things with his hands; what starts out as tinkering with a broken radio turns into a prototype EMF reader, cars go from whining to purring after a few twists of a wrench, an afternoon of sorting through hunting equipment has him eagerly explaining how they can put rock-salt into shotgun rounds.

Sam was all books and research and academia. It made him one hell of an asset on hunts, but it meant that without being able to get it out at school, he was going to go insane trying to figure a way to get all the thoughts that were bouncing around his brain out. He wasn't going to be able to engage a hunter in a conversation on literature or history; they had a whole different set of concerns. He could debate philosophy with them if it was about where a ghost goes when they salt and burn it…and they were piss ass drunk.

As a kid, he had tried, but the only ones he could get to even humor him were Bobby and Dean.


Bobby groaned loudly when he heard the gravel in his driveway crunching underneath tires. He had just laid down and was hoping to grab a couple hours of sleep. From the sound of the engine, he had a feeling he knew who it was, which made him even more reluctant to throw the warm blankets off of himself and go to the door. But, if his suspicions were correct, there were two reasons that would make the cold trek across the house worth it. Knowing it was only a matter of time before the knocking began, Bobby bravely threw one leg off of his bed and quickly followed with the rest of his body.

"I'm coming," he mumbled under his breath, stumbling through the house towards the door. He did a quick check out the peep hole before he flung the door open without ceremony. "Come on, I'm not paying to heat all of South Dakota."

John ushered Sam and Dean through the door, stomping his own boots outside to shake some of the snow off of them. "Thanks," he said gruffly, grateful for the change in temperature. The heat in the Impala had been glitchy and the past few hours had been spent with Sam and Dean shoved together on the front seat next to him with blankets thrown across their bodies.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby was about to send them upstairs when he caught sight of Sam's face. "I'll take them upstairs; I gotta grab some extra blankets for the beds. You can get cleaned up, blankets are in the closet, and you know where the couch is."

He got the boys upstairs and knelt next to Sam who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He gestured to the deep bruising around Sam's eye, "So, that's quite a shiner you've got there, you wanna tell me how it happened?"

Sam's explanation had better be good because he was more than ready to grab his shotgun and make sure Johnny would never be able to sit comfortably again.

With a reassuring nod from Dean, Sam said quietly, "Some kids decided that I was a geek."

Bobby wasn't that big on hugging, but when tears formed in the small boy's eyes, he found himself pulling Sam in tight. "Are you okay?"

When the sniffling reply of, "Dean fixed it," reached Bobby, his eyes shot up to the taller Winchester and was met with the narrowed, challenging gaze of an older brother who was prepared to defend his actions to his dying breath. There was no need―if Bobby had been in his shoes, he would've done the same thing.

"I'm never raising my hand again," Sam declared passionately, running the back of his hand over his face.

Bobby knew that was a promise he wasn't going to be able to keep, but he did doubt Sam would ever put himself out there like that again. So, Bobby made his own promise, silently but with the same passion―to never let Sam's need to express his knowledge and his desire to learn more be ignored.


Bobby kept up at first; he contributed to the bits of trivia Sam liked to spout off, with knowledge from his own distant education. Then he nodded, unable to add anything, but still vaguely remembering the topics. By the time Sam was 11, Bobby was just nodding as he listened to Sam ramble on about different kinds of rocks. Now, he was bringing up books that Bobby had never even heard of and was asking questions about math that he didn't have a chance in hell of knowing―the boy was like a damn sponge.

Dean had been able to keep up with Sam for longer than Bobby. Way before Bobby had made his promise, Dean was doing his best to make sure Sam didn't miss out on anything. Stories were read every night from the time Sam could toddle over to his brother with a book in hand―some of the words being skipped over, only to be filled in a few months later when Dean learned how to sound them out.

After they were both in school, Dean would sit down with Sam and go through his homework with him―answering questions if he knew them, and staying up for hours after Sam had gone to bed to learn them if he didn't. Then, when Dean's time was split between Sam and hunting, Dean would pack his duffel a bit slower than necessary so Sam could ramble on about what they had done in class.

When Sophie became friends with Sam, it was like a relief hitter coming up to the plate. Finally, there was someone in Sam's life that knew nothing about hunting. She didn't want him to translate a Latin passage from a decaying book, or want to know how to kill a water spirit. Better still, he didn't have to justify how Of Mice and Men would help him if a werewolf was attacking him, or if he could apply the Battle of Hastings to a fight against vampires (if they actually existed). Sam was free to talk to someone about things that interested him and even engage in discussions that would have his brother ready to do research just to get him to shut up.

Sophie had come in and unknowingly begun to patch them up, just as they did for her.

As Bobby took a long pull from his warm beer and patted Cooper's head resting on his leg, he couldn't help but wonder if the thread was going to be strong enough.