A/N: I got a request from CommChatter to do a drabble with Dean and Parker, Sam's child from another one of my fics, "As Brothers We Will Stand." If you haven't read it, the gist is that Sam died from cancer when Parker was two. This drabble is set thirteen years later when Parker is fifteen. I'm sorry if that's confusing but a lot of people have asked for this over the past year so…this one's for those guys!

It was one of the five cellphones on his bedside table that woke Dean Winchester from a no-so-deep slumber in the middle of the night. Through the haze of a dream he couldn't quite remember, he fumbled with the phones, two of them dropping to the floor before he found the one that was making all the noise.

'Ello?" he grunted, letting his face rest in the pillow as he held the phone lazily to his ear. He pushed himself up on one elbow when he heard the sobbing on the other end. "Kat? Is that you?"

A minute later and he was sitting up on his side of the mattress, the bedside lamp turned on.

"Okay, Kat, you need to calm down. Deep breaths. I can't understand you when you're crying so hard." The Hunter heard the lamp on the other side of the bed switch on but he ignored the woman who sat up, rubbing her face. "Listen," he said to his sister in law on the other end of the line, "I'm going to come to you. Stay put. It's going to take me a while, though, I'm in Louisiana. Can you wait that long?" He waited until Kat let out a choked 'yes' and then he hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?" the other occupant of the room asked as Dean stood and pulled a pair of jeans on.

"I don't know," Dean said, scrubbing his face with one hand and then running it through his hair so that it stood up straight. "Kat's hysterical about something. Something about Parker, but I don't know what she was saying. I'm going to drive there." He stopped when the woman stood up and pulled on a thin robe.

"What about the case here? You know how complicated it's gotten." Dean paused in packing his duffel. Since he had stopped hunting, he'd taken over the job of phone calls, assignments, and backup from Garth, who had taken over from Bobby all those years ago. It was the perfect way to keep him in the job and yet without the wear and tear that the action had wreaked on his aging body. Dean crossed the motel room.

"What about you taking it from here?" he asked quietly. The woman standing in front of him was the reason that Dean was still around and even doing this kind of work. Dean and Erin had met a few years ago through Hunter friends. She was the daughter of a deceased Hunter who was looking for something to do and the two happened to be in the same place at the same time. It hadn't been instant attraction but the two lonely people had quickly grown close.

"I'll mess it up," Erin said, shaking her head, her short blonde hair fanning out around her face. She was wicked smart and a quick thinker but she usually let Dean handle the majority of the work, preferring just to keep him company and offer her advice when needed.

"You won't," Dean said, stepping closer. He put a hand on her cheek and she narrowed her eyes, well attuned to her boyfriend's charm. A second later, though, she melted and allowed him to kiss her.

"You are a bad, bad man," she murmured, her forehead pressed against his. Dean chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Call me if anything goes wrong," he said for the tenth time half an hour later as he got into the Impala. Erin rolled her eyes and bent down to the open driver side window.

"Yes, sir," she mocked. "You just take care of Kat, okay?"

"I'll try my best," Dean said, expression darkening at the thought of his sister-in-law. Erin kissed him goodbye and then Dean was gone. He didn't like leaving his girlfriend to take care of the Hunt but he let that slip out his mind as the Impala roared to life on the highway. He'd always been good at leaving things behind.

It took him just about twelve hours to reach his destination. The house looked largely the same as it had the first time Dean had pulled up all those years ago, bleeding to death in the very same Impala. There were still flowers out front, still the fountain on the side of the house, but the grass seemed a little long and Dean reminded himself to make sure the lawn mower was up and running. It was just about four in the afternoon but Kat's car was in the driveway when she should have been at work. When Dean had talked to her a couple hours ago, she hadn't been crying but her responses were short and to the point. She still hadn't told him what was wrong.

He didn't bother knocking, but opened the front door and let himself in, setting his stuff down on the kitchen table. Like the outside of the house, some things were still the same: it was the same table and chairs, the same white carpeting with another purple and blue rug that stretched almost wall to wall in the living room. But things were also different. There was a new couch and a new TV and the bathroom he had almost died in had been redone. It was still strange to not have Bullet come prancing over to him as soon as he opened the door; the shepherd had died several years ago. That had been hard.

Kat had called Dean and he came straight away to find her holding Bullet in her arms. Between her sobs, he found out that the dog had some type of cancer and needed to be put out of her misery. So the next day, Dean had uncurled Kat's arms from around Bullet and driven her to the vet. She was so weak, he had to carry her to the car and he laid her out carefully on the backseat of the Impala, which he drove only occasionally now.

When he went to lift her out, she licked his wrist and he found himself couching beside her head.

"You're such a good girl," he murmured. "I bet you miss him just as much as I do." Bullet whined. "You know he'd be crying if he was here. But wherever he is, I'm sure he'll find you. He loved you." As gently as possible, he slid his arms around the dog, and carried her to the door. He couldn't watch. Instead, he gave her one last scratch behind the ears and told the vet he'd be back in an hour. An attractive vet technician hurried over with sympathy but he shook her off. He'd spent most of his life watching things die but it was different when it was something – someone – you loved.

He buried her in the backyard, in the shade of the tree she and Sam had played fetch under during that last summer.

But that was years ago now, everything was years ago. Dean hadn't been back to visit in almost nine months. The first year after Sam's death, even the first two, had been excruciating and without Kat and Parker to keep him on his feet, Dean might have wasted away out of grief. Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning had been too much. Everything reminded him of his brother. Even his own existence.

But things got easier. Not better, but easier. He learned to find other things to live for but it was an agonizing process, like slowly peeling a band-aid off a wound. He hunted for a bit and then eventually fell into his current position, met Erin. The distance he put between himself and his brother's family hadn't been on purpose but it had still happened.

God, he felt guilty.

"Dean?" He turned around to find Kat in the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows.

"The one and only," he said. There was flat silence between them and then Kat took a step forward. She looked awful. The circles under her eyes were dark and unforgiving, almost as if they were bruises. Her hair held many more hints of gray than it had the last time he'd seen her and those blue eyes Sam had fallen in love with were quivering with tears.

"Come here," Dean said, opening is arms and Kat ran into them, letting out a sob into his shoulder. "Shhh," he soothed, running a hand over knotted hair. The bubble of guilt was building in his chest, growing uncomfortably behind his heart. He should have been here, he should have been checking in more,. "It's okay," he murmured and Kat nodded against his chest.

"I know," she said, pulling away. "I'm sorry, it's just…" She wiped her face on her sleeve.

"Sit down," Dean suggested, pulling out a chair. "I'll make us coffee, okay?"

"I can do it," Kat said, but Dean just shook his head and pointed to the chair. She sat.

The kitchen was the same, the coffeemaker was an updated model but in the same place. He started it and then sat down across from Kat, at the same table where he'd had that first conversation with Sam about the cancer. Just over in the living room where was Sam's hospital bed had been. He could almost hear his brother's raspy breathing.

Dean made himself focus.

"Where's Parker?"

"Who knows?" Kat said, staring at her lap. She lifted her face to meet Dean's confused gaze. "I don't know," she said. "We got into a fight last night when he came home at two in the morning, reeking of cigarette smoke by the way. He started yelling at me and then I just lost it and…" She trailed off, rising to get mugs out of the cabinet and pouring them each a cup of coffee.

"You what?" Dean said once she was seated again. Kat shook her head, looking so far from the woman who had married Sam. That woman had been serious but vibrant and confident. Now she seemed lost and unsure of herself.

"I slapped him," she whispered. "I slapped my son."

"It's okay," he said after a minute. Secretly, Dean didn't think it was that big of deal. John had hit both he and Sam plenty of times when they'd mouthed off as teenagers. Parker was a Winchester; Dean was sure he'd deserved it. Kat didn't seem to think so though. Her expression was a mixture of horror and disbelief as she stared into her coffee.

"I never wanted to be that Mom," she said. "And Dean, I just-," The tears started again as she pushed away the coffee and buried her face in her hands. "I need Sam," she choked out, shoulders shaking.

It broke Dean's heart. Dean woke up every day missing Sam. It wasn't that it had ever gotten better, really. More like Dean had learned to live with the aching hole inside him. The hole that never seemed to get any smaller or less painful, no matter how much time passed. Dean had lost so many people in his life, though; he knew how to handle grief. Kat, on the other hand, was struggling with it, even all these years later.

"I know," he said quietly, letting her cry.

"Sam wouldn't have hit him," she sobbed. "He would have known what to do. I don't know what I'm doing with Parker." Her eyes were glassy with tears but bright blue when she looked up at him. "He's so out of control and I don't know how to fix it." Dean couldn't think of anything else to do other than get up and go to her side of the table.

"Come on," he said, taking her gently by the elbow.

"I don't even know where he is," she cried. "I'm a terrible mother."

"No you're not," Dean assured her, leading her down the hall. There were still pictures of Sam on the wall but he tried to ignore them. "You are a great mother. Teenage boys are crappy." He left her standing in her bedroom and then went and turned on the shower. "Take a hot shower," he said.

"I don't need a shower," she said, trying to stop the flow of tears but failing.

"Yes, you do," Dean said. "This is what I always did for Sam when he was upset. I'm going to go fix you some food while you're in there. After that, we can talk some more, okay?"

"O-okay," she stuttered. When Dean was convinced she was actually going to get in the shower, he closed the door and went back to the kitchen.

He leaned heavily on the counter, letting it support his weight as he breathed deep. What had he expected? To come back to this place and not have memories of Sam assault him at every turn. He didn't know how Kat lived in this place, where reminders of the younger Winchester were everywhere.

That was when the biggest reminder of all stepped inside the front door.

Parker Winchester was tall like his father, had long hair like his father, and carried himself in the confident way every Winchester did – including his father. In fact, there wasn't a lot about the kid that didn't remind Dean of his brother.

"Hey," he said, turning around to face the teenager. At fifteen, Parker was just a couple inches shorter than Dean.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing out of his nephew's mouth. His hair did little to hide the faint bruise on his left cheek. Green eyes narrowed in both directions.

"That's not much of a hello," Dean said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, when you haven't been around in a while I think you lose the right to a formal greeting," Parker spit out.

"Don't talk to me like that," Dean said, straightening up and adopting an authoritative tone. "Where were you?"

"At school," Parker said, motioning the backpack he was holding.

"School got out two hours ago," Dean said, glancing at the clock. He was actually just guessing, but by the way Parker squirmed, he was right.

"I don't have to listen to you," Parker sneered, turning his back on his uncle and walking toward his room.

"Parker!" Dean called. "Don't walk away." The boy's slamming bedroom door was his only answer. When Dean went to follow him, he found the door locked.

Okay so maybe this was more out of hand than he originally thought. Parker had never been a particularly easy child to deal with – he'd inherited his father's stubbornness – but this was a whole different story. Dean didn't recognize the rude and arrogant teenager.

He stewed over what to do while he made Kat some canned soup and brought it to her.

"Here you go," he said, placing it on the bedside table. She already looked better than before, her wet hair dripping onto the blankets.

"Thanks," she said. "For coming, you know."

"Don't mention it," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Parker came home." Kat's eyes widened and she stopped drying her hair. She rose to get out of bed but Dean put a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think you want to talk to him right now," he said.

"But I haven't even apologized," she said. "I mean I did when it first happened but then he locked himself in his room and ran out of the house this morning."

"You don't need to apologize," Dean told her. He wanted to add because your son is a prick but he held back. He tried to think of Sam and what he would do in this situation. Sam had always been better with kids than Dean had, hence why he had one. Dean never understood the attraction of having children, or children in general, but Sam had always been curious about being a parent. And when he and Kat had Parker, he'd been a great father.

"I think you should go away for a day or two," he said after a pause. "Leave me here with Parker."

"No," Kat said, even before all the words were out of Dean's mouth. "No, I can't do that." Dean sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Kat, I think you guys need some time apart. Why don't you go to one of those spas or whatever? Get cucumbers and mud rubbed all over your face." Kat broke a smile.

"Do you think you can handle him?" Kat asked. Dean quirked an eyebrow and smirked.

"Darling, I have an arsenal in my trunk and the blood of a thousand monsters on my hands, I think I can handle a teenager."

"Okay," she said, giving in. "But I really hope you get through to him, Dean, because I don't know what else to do."

xxx

She left the next morning, which was Saturday. Dean banged on Parker's closed bedroom door with his fist.

"Hey, your Mom's leaving! Are you coming out to say goodbye?" He hadn't talked to the kid since their encounter yesterday but Dean had a plan. He wasn't going to let some teenager get the better of him. The door opened a crack.

"Where's she going?" Parker asked.

"Away," Dean said shortly and then walked back down the hallway.

"Emergency numbers are on the fridge," Kat said as he walked her to the door. "I'll have my phone with me, just in case. He sneaks out at night so be careful," she said.

"We'll be fine," Dean assured her. Kat glanced behind but Parker hadn't appeared. "Just go," Dean said. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

He waited until her car had pulled out of the driveway before traipsing back to Parker's room, his toolkit in hand. Again, he pounded on Parker's door.

"What?" the teenager said, opening it. Instantly, Dean stuck his foot inside and then jammed the door all the open, causing Parker to stumble backwards. "What the hell, dude?" he said.

"Don't call me dude," Dean said. "Dean or Uncle Dean. Or sir," he added, smiling to himself as he got down on his knees. Maybe channeling his inner John Winchester wouldn't be so difficult.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking your door off its hinges," Dean said. "Which is something your mother should have done months ago."

"You can't do that!" Dean glanced over his shoulder as he loosened a screw.

"Watch me."

It took all of five minutes and then Dean was carrying the teen's door to the basement. Then he took the lock off the guest bedroom door and the bathroom in case Parker tried to lock himself in either one of those rooms. It wasn't so different from babyproofing the place.

"What do you want to do today?" Dean asked when he was finished.

"Nothing with you," Parker said, not looking away from the TV. "I have plans later."

"No you don't," Dean said. "You and I are going to be spending today and tomorrow together. Maybe the next day if you don't get your act together."

"What is your problem?" Parker said. "You can't just waltz in here whenever you want and start telling me what to do."

"Your mother called me and asked me to come," Dean said, twisting the story a bit. "So I'm here. You're my nephew and you're acting like a douche." Parker rolled his eyes.

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" Dean shrugged.

"Maybe a little."

"You're a mechanic. You drink beer all day and whiskey all night. You're just an old loser and I'm not scared of you." Dean felt the heat of anger flare in his stomach. So that's how the kid wanted to play it? Kat didn't want Parker to know about Hunting but that didn't mean Dean couldn't scare him a bit, ruffle his feathers.

"Get up," Dean said, pulling on his coat.

"No."

"I said get up," Dean growled, turning off the TV set. Parker eyed him before rolling his eyes and getting off the couch. He made it clear the whole time he didn't want to go but Dean just ignored his grumbling.

"This car is a piece of crap," he said after they'd been on the road ten minutes.

"Whoa," Dean said. "She is not," he shuddered, "a piece of crap. Do you have any idea what great condition she's in? Sam and me kept her in shape through some shit, let me tell you." He said the last bit without thinking.

"So my dad had shitty taste in cars?" Parker said. Dean gripped the wheel and let out a long breath. It was getting harder to keep his cool with the kid. It was one thing to bash the Impala, another entirely to do it to Sam.

"We're here," he said a couple minutes later, pulling into a wooded area that he knew led to a deserted field.

"We're in the middle of no where," Parker said, getting out and looking around. "Where are we?" Dean ignored him and unlocked the trunk.

"Dude, holy shit!" Parker said, staring into it. Dean's collection had only grown more impressive since the years of he and Sam hunting.

"Don't call me dude," Dean said. "And watch your mouth."

"What are you? A serial killer?"

"No."

"Does Mom know you have all this?"

"Yep." Dean picked out his usual gun and then a smaller, lightweight one for his nephew.

"I thought you were a mechanic." Dean's eyes brightened as he laughed.

"Nah man, only sometimes. I'm damn good with cars though." Parker seemed to realize how eager and interested he sounded so he backed off, taking a step away from Dean.

"So what? I don't get it."

"I taught your dad how to shoot," Dean said thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb along the ivory grip on his gun. "Thought you'd might like to know how too."

"Well, I don't," Parker said. "And this is stupid. My dad isn't here. You and Mom shouldn't pretend that he is. I don't even remember the guy. How do I know he was even as great as you say he was?"

"That," Dean said, shutting the trunk, "you're going to have to trust me on."

"I don't trust you."

"I know," Dean said, recognizing some parts of himself in the young teen. He saw how confused and angry Parker was and remembered feeling that way for so much of his childhood. "And I'm sorry I'm not your Dad. I wish he was here instead of me. But he's not. So I'm what you've got." He offered the pistol to Parker. "And I can tell you shooting is a lot more fun than sitting around smoking cigarettes and mouthing off to your mom." Parker's lips pursed in indecision but he took the weapon, holding it unsteadily in his hands.

"You taught my Dad to shoot?" he asked, voice quieter.

"Yeah," Dean said. "He was great at it. Better than me. Come on, I'll show you how to set up the targets."

The two Winchesters disappeared into the wooded area and you almost couldn't tell that it was Sam's son beside Dean. From the back, you could just make out a taller man with a boyish figure and short hair walking shoulder to shoulder with a lanky, shaggy haired teen. Almost like it had been all those years ago, as if things had finally come full circle.

As if Sam Winchester was ever present.

A/N: I know that it's kind of open-ended but these are drabbles after all, not full stories. I always get carried away it seems! Hope you enjoyed. If you can, leave a review and tell me why you did (or didn't) like it!