Sorry this has taken so long but as a little apology there is lots of it so I have split it into two chapters. Nearly there now I think, maybe one or two more chapters before I leave this story and go back and try to get the others finished! Thanks for your patience and your support. I haven't seen 7.10 yet and my friend tells me that this story strays into its territory so if you are kind enough to leave a review can you not mention the episode - going to watch it on Saturday when I get the time to sit down and enjoy it. Take care Mxx

Bobby raised his head from the book he was reading and stared at the middle Winchester. "You know that lino's new."

Dean stopped his pacing and turned to look at Bobby and then down at the old, badly worn floor. "What?," he questioned distractedly. "Really? This floor?"

"Well it was until you started wearing a hole in it. If you don't stop soon chances are the floor'll go next and you're gonna end up in the god damn basement."

"Sorry." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and sat down picking up a pen that was lying on the table and starting to tap it against the wood.

Pushing his cap up Bobby leant back in his chair and sighed.

Dean dropped the pen and stood again. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's just; they should be back by now, shouldn't they? I mean they couldn't have been that far behind us…"

"They had to load the car, your brother probably had to stitch that arm of your daddy's and maybe your brother's had to drive so they'd stick to the back roads…" He was cut off by the rev of an engine as John's big truck eased its way into the yard. Bobby blinked and Dean had vanished. Easing himself out of the chair he followed at a more sedate pace.

Sam was standing by the passenger door and Dean was getting pushed away by John. "I'm fine, go help your brother bring the bags in," he growled at his son as he manoeuvred round him and headed towards Bobby. The hunter stepped back and let John stomp pass. "Me casa es su casa," he muttered as his friend clomped by him.

John looked like shit. It was blunt but there was no better description for the man sitting hunched over the table opposite him nursing both his arm and a whisky. Sam was sitting quietly, too quietly, at his side with Dean hovering over them like some guardian angel.

"Dean, go and clean the guns, take your brother with you," John barked in a voice that should have brokered no defiance and yet Dean didn't move straight away. He cast a glance in Bobby's direction and then down at his dad. "It was my idea," he started, because he knew why John wanted them out of the room. "If you're mad at anyone it should be me."

"Dean!," John growled without looking at him. "Now!"

Bobby nodded at Dean and tried hard not to smile as John's anger flared when his son obeyed the silent command after only one look. Dean grabbed his brother by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, you can tell me about the hunt."

Sam took a look at each of the three other men in the room and then shook his brother off and headed for the stairs, only giving Bobby a backward glance when he reached them.

"What was that all about?," he asked when they were finally upstairs. He flopped down on one bed and watched as his brother unloaded the weapon's duffle onto the other. Dean didn't answer, he just spread the old blanket they used for cleaning and laid the guns out on it.

"Dean?," Sam prompted.

Picking up the Taurus he had watched Sam shoot the werewolf with, Dean slid the clip out and dropped it on the bed next to his leg. "Nothing. So, you bagged your first big bad? You okay?"

Sitting up to face his brother Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Suppose so. Wasn't what I thought it would be like, what with dad almost blowing the hunt. I mean what was with that?"

Dean stopped what he was doing, gun dropping to rest on his thigh. "Dad what?"

"He was talking; almost let it get right on top of us before we heard it."

Wide eyes stared back at Sam's own. "Talking? Dad? On a hunt? Our dad? What was he talking about?"

Sam bit his lip and shrugged. "You."

"Me? Dad almost blew the hunt because of me?" Dean's face had drained of colour and Sam thought for a second that his brother was going to be sick before he seemed to regain himself. "What was he saying?"

"He wasn't saying anything, he was asking." Sam pulled at a loose thread on the old candlewick bedspread.

"Asking what exactly?"

"About you going out at night, but I didn't tell him you go out a lot." His brother said earnestly. "I didn't want you getting into trouble for leaving me. He was acting strange though and I thought, I thought that if I told him that you didn't eat then it would stop him asking about you going out, because he isn't going to be as mad at you for that as he would have been for you leaving me in the apartments on my own….and I know I said I'd tell him that you did, but I didn't. I swear."

Dean shut his eyes and slowly tried to work through the information that his brother had just spewed up all over him. Dad and Sam almost got hurt on a hunt because of me. Dad didn't believe him about the amount of times that he'd gone out. He knows that the money doesn't last Dean, he's thoughtless not stupid. And now Sam had to go and add fuel to the fire. "Why the hell would you tell him that I don't eat when he's not there? I eat!"

Sam screwed up his face. "Barely."

Running a hand through his hair Dean sighed. "Couldn't you just have told him that I don't go out at night a lot?"

Sam thought about that for a moment. "No, because that would have been a lie and he would have known." He looked up at his brother, watched Dean shrug his agreement. "And you've just got gun oil all over your hair."

Dean looked down at his fingers and cursed. "Perfect," He muttered. "Just perfect." He slid the clip out of one of the other guns and tossed it at his brother. "Make yourself useful and tell me about the werewolf."

Sam caught the gun and the cloth that followed it. "Not much to tell."

Dean frowned. "You bagged a werewolf that was coming at you first time and you're not even hyped about it? Are you sure we're related?"

"You're Chuck Norris, not me." A thoughtful look crossed Sam's face. "You were there!"

Dean almost managed to hide his startled expression. "What? No!" You and your big mouth Winchester.

"How did you know I bagged it first time then?" Sam put down his gun and crossed his arms.

"Lucky guess. If you had taken time for two shots, it would have eaten you."

Sam glared at him. "That's why dad's pissed at Bobby!"

"Dad's pissed because he fucked up the hunt," because of me. "Bobby's just the nearest target."

"Nope and language." Sam closed his eyes and sat so quietly that for a moment Dean wondered if he had fallen asleep sitting up. "It wasn't an echo! That was you, wasn't it? You shot it too!"

Realising that denial was useless Dean raised his hands in surrender. "You got me."

"So it might not have been me that killed that woman?," Sam asked, a little more brightness to his voice than had been there before.

"Werewolf," Dean corrected. "And no, I shot her…it too, so it could have been either one of us."

"We can tell," Sam offered and his brother raised an eyebrow at him. "Dad's got the bullet…or bullets."

"Does it matter?"

Sam huffed out a breath of air. "No, but it would be interesting to see. Where were you anyway?"

"Made the shot from up on the rocks, Bobby gave me a rifle," Dean said sounding more than a little prideful, pride that was quickly dampened by his brother.

"Well then it was obviously me that shot it, you couldn't have bagged it from that distance."

"Hey! I hit it, once you got your big head out the road! Not like you Mr Sharpshooter, I can't hit a can from four feet!"

"You knocked my arm!"

"Still missed it!"

"I hit the woman…werewolf! Let's go get the bullets and see who the better shot is!"

"No, and you were nearer. If you couldn't hit it from that range I've wasted a shit load of time showing you how to shoot."

"It was my kill! Dad can prove it!"

Dean wanted to laugh at his brother's sudden change of heart about killing things, sibling rivalry overriding his morality. "Fine, we'll see, but just wait until he calms down."

"Yeah, because I'm going to go down there and get added to the fight." There was a crash downstairs as he finished talking. "Definitely staying here."

Dean stood. "Maybe I should go…"

Sam shot out a hand. "Don't. He was in a real funny mood the whole way back here. Bobby can handle dad."

"I know but it's my fault he's mad at him in the first place. I wanted to come get you guys."

"And Bobby took you. He knew what he was getting himself into." Sam picked up his gun again and started taking it apart. "Dean?"

His brother froze at that tone.

"Why is dad so bothered now about you going out at night when he wasn't before? Did something happen? Did you get hurt or did you do something that made him so….so…weird?" Sam couldn't find a better word than that.

"No," Dean answered way too easily for Sam's liking. "Why? Did he say something to you?"

"No, did he have something to say?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That! Turn my question back round on me without answering it. Nothing happened okay? I don't know why dad's so weirded suddenly with me staying out late."

"Weirded? Is that even a word?"

Dean snorted and went back to work on the gun, effectively ending the conversation.

"Dean?"

He raised his eyes with a sigh. "What?"

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you? I won't judge you like dad does if you've done something you shouldn't have." The 'I love you, you're my big brother' went unsaid but Sam knew that his brother would hear it anyway.

Dean stared down at the gun in his hands. Cursing John silently for saying anything to Sam he just shrugged and glanced up at his brother. "Nothing to tell Sam, dad just doesn't like me going out and leaving you, that's all."

Sam stared at him for a minute or two and then got back to work on his gun too. Yeah right, he thought.

"I told you he was to stay here, that he wasn't to be allowed to follow us and what did you do? You bloody drive him to us!" John banged his fist down on the table making everything on it jump.

"Well he was worried and truth be told I was worried too and it looks like we had a right to be! You're lucky that's claw and not teeth marks on your damn arm and that your youngest isn't werewolf kibble!"

"I had it under control!"

"Was that before or after you were eatin' dirt?"

"Sam coped!"

"Just as well because you weren't gonna be much use with your gun lying ten feet away from ya! What if he had froze? What if it had got him? Or don't you remember stitching Dean after he coped with his first big hunt? I can call him in and get him to show you the scars on his back if you don't!"

"Stop interfering with my family!"

"Well, stop involving me then! When Dean's in my care it's up to me and him what he can or can't do, you give up the right to dictate to either of us the minute that door slams behind you."

John scoffed. "You wanted a son so badly Bobby you should have had one of your own, instead of trying to muscle in on mine."

"You god damn son of a bitch. I don't need to muscle in, you damn well throw him at me! Way you treat that boy; you don't deserve to have him! What kind of father are you that would leave his two sons in some dank fucking motel room or shitty apartment and not even make sure that they had enough money to eat? For Dean to be so desperate that he'd do….that…." Bobby wiped a hand down his face and threw back the drink he'd poured himself. "I always knew things were bad for them when you weren't around but this….I ought to break your face."

John raised his eyes to Bobby's. "He told you?" He let out a dry, wry chuckle. "Why I'm I even surprised by that."

"He talks to me because I listen John, and I don't judge every little thing he does and find him wanting! And for your information he didn't tell me, boy's been running a fever off and on the last couple of days, always did give him a slack tongue."

"I didn't ask him to do that Bobby; I'd never ask him to!" John stood, limped to the sink and leant on it. "I know that I ain't father of the year but even you can't think I want him out on the streets."

Bobby let out a long suffering sigh. "You ain't even father of the week John. If keeping your boys safe is the most important thing to you why the hell do you leave them? Why John? Because you have to chase down the thing that wrecked your life? Newsflash, Dean getting hurt out whoring himself out is gonna screw up your life more than some smoke and mirrors demon has!"

"Don't use that word!"

"Why? It's what he did. What you left him with no choice but to do! Even If he hadn't done that, he's only seventeen John and you leave him to sneak his way into bars to hustle pool that I wouldn't even step foot in and from guys I wouldn't even approach in broad daylight!" Bobby took a breath, tried to take the edge off his anger before words turned to war. "Mary's dead John but Dean and Sam aren't so maybe you should spend more time protecting the living than avenging the dead."

"What if it had been your wife? Think you wouldn't have done the exact same thing I did? I can't protect my boys from this thing Bobby, only thing I can do is kill it and then take it from there."

"And what if you lose your boys to something or worse, someone, else before you seal the deal John? What would have been the damn point? What would Mary think of that? Do you think that she would be pleased that you put revenge for her death before her sons' welfare?"

John swept all the dishes off the counter and into the sink with a clatter. "I called you didn't I? The minute I found out! I asked for your help."

"That's you shutting the stable door after the horse has darn well bolted John and you know it! 'sides, you shouldn't have to call me John because your damn kids shouldn't be left on their own to fend for themselves in the first place. I told you that you could leave them here but oh no, the great John Winchester is such a selfish bastard that he'd rather drag his kids all over the god, green earth than let them settle some place they'd be safe!"

"Fuck you Bobby! They're safe with me! I do what I can! And don't think that I don't know it ain't good enough or that my kids don't always come first…"

"You kids are the end of a god damned long list John. How many times are we gonna have this argument before it's over one of their cold, dead bodies? Kid's gonna get himself killed John taking risks to look after his brother when it should be your job to look after them both!"

John stomped over, anger etched in every line of his face. He grabbed Bobby and hauled him to his feet, reeling him in hard against him. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that thought haunts me every day?" He pushed Bobby back down into the seat and then folded into the one opposite, fight leaving him as he did. "I need them with me Bobby. Without them I can't…..I just can't." He dropped his head into his hands. "He's so damn like her, and they're all I got left…my only reason for not just biting a bullet and being done with it."

"Just a little more care and attention John, it's all I'm saying." Bobby pulled his chair closer. "Gimme a look at that arm."

John shrugged his jacket off and dropped it on the floor at his feet. "Sam cleaned it and patched it."

"Not bad, wound's leaking a little though." He dragged the first aid kit from its place on the counter and opened it. "Let's get you patched up and then we can all eat, damn boy of yours would hardly eat the whole time you were away….what?"

John looked down at the table stroking it with the fingers of his good hand. "Yeah, about that, I found out something else that you aren't gonna like."

Bobby slid the whisky over and held up a hand to stop John talking. "Don't tell me until after I've patched you up and I've had a few or you might regret it, although I can guess what you're gonna say."

"You can?"

"Eldest ain't exactly carrying any extra weight John, not like his brother. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what's been going on there."

"Is that you're polite way of calling me dumb?" John reached for the whisky and took a slug, hissing as Bobby poured antiseptic over his wounds.

"I might be the one wearing a cap John…,"

"…but I'm the one it fits, I hear you Bobby, I hear you."

"Yeah John, I know you do, but are you listening?"