Bobby was not an idiot. He had known from the beginning that John Winchester had 'missed' a few details when he had called him to ask for help two hours ago, announcing his arrival right about now.

The elder hunter stood in his hallway, right behind the door, waiting and listening to the noises filtering in from the driveway outside. The black Impala that John loved so much slowly drove up the long, graveled road leading to his front porch, the grit crunching under the heavy tires. Bobby heard several doors opening and closing, the trunk banging shut, and much to the hunter's astonishment, the revving of the strong engine. The car was gone as fast as it had appeared. Only then he realized, what he had agreed to.

"John, you bloody bastard!", Bobby grumbled, angry at the younger hunter. He knew exactly who would stand in front of his door when he answered the soft knocking.

The old door opened with a creak and revealed a tired looking Dean Winchester with his little brother cradled safely in his arms. The only thing left of John was a cloud of dust that rose into the air in the light of the fading afternoon sun. Dean's short hair was unkempt, standing in all directions, but it wasn't the sight of the elder boy that worried Bobby. No, it was Sam, who was clinging to his brother with everything he had. He was wrapped in a blanket and had his pale, sweaty face pressed deep into Dean's neck.

"Hey, you two. Come on in.", Bobby said, opening the door a little wider.

"Hi, Bobby."

Dean's greeting was quiet and downcast. No trace of the spark the eight-year-old usually possessed. The boy took the bag that was sitting next to him and stepped into the house. Bobby closed the door behind the kids, uneasy that Sam hadn't shown a hint of interest, hiding even further into his brother's jacket. The little one was clearly sick; Bobby could tell on first sight. So, John had not only simply left his children with him, but he also expected him to play nurse for his sick son. Surely, the brothers were the last ones to blame for this situation and he would certainly help wherever he could. It wasn't their fault, that their father was an asshole. For the moment, he held his anger at bay, at least until he had everything under control. Right now, he had more important things to worry about. Still, a warning would have been in order. He would have said yes anyway.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

The boy looked at him full of despair with tears shining in his green eyes, while he pressed Sam a little bit closer. "He's sick, Uncle Bobby. You gotta help him. You gotta make him ok again."

Dean's behavior was so uncharacteristic, Bobby knew there had to be more to the story than met the eye. But first, he had a couple of kids to take care of. Fortunately, he had stocked up on every imaginable type of children's medicine since he had spent more and more time with the little Winchesters over the past years. He was a hunter through and through and he rather was too prepared than not at all. Which paid off, apparently.

Bobby knelt down in front of Dean, put a gentle hand to his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "Calm down, Dean. It's gonna be fine. We'll take care of Sam and you'll see that he'll be back on his feet in no time."

Dean nodded barely noticeable, still sad, but Bobby could see a spark of hope in his fearful gaze.

"Let me bring Sam upstairs to bed and we'll take a look at what we're dealing with. What do you say?"

The hunter reached out to take Sam from his brother's arms but didn't dare to make a move to simply grab him from Dean. He knew better than that and had learned pretty early on that Dean actually trusted nobody with his little brother. It had taken a long time to gain his faith. The kid was a protector to the core. All the more surprising was, when Dean tentatively loosened his grip, softly told Sam to let go of him, and finally handed the sick child into Bobby's waiting arms.

Although Sam was wrapped up in a blanket, Bobby could still feel the warmth that radiated from the boy. Sam drowsily blinked up at him, his eyes glassy and bloodshot. He seemed a bit baffled at how he got to where he was, however, he didn't seem to be afraid at all. The hunter gently stroked back sweat soaked strands from Sam's forehead, making sure he had him secure in his arms, before pointing upstairs.

"Let's go."

With a gentle hand on his back, Bobby guided Dean towards the stairs, taking their bag with him as they went. Upstairs, in the room the boys always used when they were at his place, he laid Sam onto his bed. The kid instantly curled up and then reached out with searching hands. Dean sat down next to him, letting his brother's little fingers cling to his shirt. He carefully stroked Sam's head, looking at Bobby fearfully when Sam whimpered weakly.

The hunter bent forward to take a closer look at the sick child. He was by far no pediatrician, but even he could differentiate a flu from something more serious. Carefully, he put two fingers to Sam's neck, taking his pulse. With a hand to his chest, he felt and listened to his breathing. Finally, he pressed his fingers to the side of Sam's nose, observing the grimace Sam made at that. The short examination revealed what Bobby had already suspected: Sam had a flu. A pretty nasty one, but only a flu.

"Okay, Dean. I'm going to get everything we need. How about you change him into his pajamas?"

Dean nodded at Bobby's request, glad to be able to help. And grateful that his brother finally became the help he needed.

"And then you're gonna tell me what happened.", Bobby added. By now he could imagine what had happened, but he wanted to hear it from Dean himself, not wanting to draw any conclusions without knowing the whole story.

When the older man left the room, he could hear Dean whispering to his brother. "See Sammy, I told you Bobby could help. Everything's going to be fine now." The hunter couldn't stop himself from smiling at that statement. Had somebody told him a few years ago that he would care that deeply for a couple of boys someday, he would have laughed lustily. He had never wanted kids himself and had the few, that had crossed his path throughout time, written off as annoying naggers. Always demanding, always dirty, leaving handprints everywhere. Nonetheless, John Winchesters boys had managed to worm their way into his heart, where they would remain forever.

Bobby hurried through his house, gathering everything he might need. The quick assessment had been enough to tell him what he was dealing with. He just hoped he had everything he required in order to take care of Sam. What he didn't have, he would buy. Soon he had a pile of little boxes and various supplies stacked in his arms – antipyretics, cough syrup, decongestant, a wet washcloth, a bottle of water, and an extra blanket.

When Bobby came back into the boy's room, Dean was just helping his brother with his dinosaur printed pajama top. He threw the stuff onto the lower end of the bed, while Dean tucked his brother under the covers. The boy sat down next to Sam, leaning against the headboard, and pulling his shaking younger sibling into his arms. Bobby could feel his observing gaze, watching his every move as he sorted through the medicine.

With the right medications in hand, Bobby sat down next to the boys and filled a little plastic cup with a thick, yellow liquid. "This is for the fever.", he explained, handing the cup to Dean's waiting hand. Bobby was more than aware that he had to explain everything he handed him. While doing so, he left it up to Dean to get the stuff into his brother. The hunter filled a second cup, this time with a viscous pink fluid. "This," Bobby held out the medicine, "is for the cough." The man observed curiously, how Dean coaxed his little brother to open his mouth and drink the sirups. Although they were advertised as 'fruity orange' and 'sweet strawberry' flavor, Sam still looked one step away from spitting it all out. A stern glance from his older sibling made him swallow the juice anyway.

Lastly, Bobby squeezed one of the green decongestant tablets out of the blister into Dean's already awaiting hand. The eight-year-old inspected first the pill, then Bobby warily. "Don't look at me like that, boy." Bobby smiled encouraging. "It's for his sinuses and should help with the congestion. I only got pills for that, but it's plant-based, don't worry." Dean didn't look thrilled. Still, he got Sam to take the medicine with sip of water.

The younger brother had endured the whole procedure in silence – even when Dean had cleaned his face with the wet washcloth. Bobby didn't know if he was just to exhausted to complain or if he, by now, knew that resistance towards his older sibling was plainly pointless. Now, as Dean finally put his arms around Sam and pulled him close to his side, Sam cuddled up next his brother, closed his eyes and was out like a light only seconds later.

Dean waited until Sam's breathing calmed down and he was sure the younger one was sound asleep. Only then he turned to their surrogate uncle, his eyes full of emotion when he said, "Thanks, Bobby.".

"You're welcome, kiddo. You know I would always help you, don't you?", Bobby asked, putting a gentle hand to Dean's shoulder. The boy nodded thankfully before rubbing his eyes tiredly. The hunter was certain that Dean was not less exhausted than his brother, however, he still needed to know what exactly had happened to the two of them. Bobby didn't need to worry though, because Dean seemed equally eager to get the story off his chest.

"He just got sick, Uncle Bobby. One moment he was fine, the next he just wasn't anymore. I really tried to help him! I did, you have to believe me.", Dean started, guilt showing on his freckled face that no eight-year-old should even know how to feel. Before Bobby could reassure him though, he continued. "We didn't have enough medicine and it only got worse. Dad didn't even care, and I never had enough time to buy meds for him." Now Dean just looked sad, his voice quiet and helpless. "He had to suffer for three days, cause I couldn't win out over dad. I should have helped him better…"

Three days. Bobby didn't know what to say. What kind of human must one be when you were able to ignore one son getting sicker and sicker and the other being overwhelmed by the feeling of not being able to help? Sure, Bobby knew firsthand what it was like seeking revenge for what was done to your family. But nothing on the whole planet should be more important than taking care of the family you still had left. He would have to have a nice, thorough talk with John about the man's obviously awry prioritization.

"Listen, son.", Bobby laid a finger under Dean's chin, guiding his head upwards until he could look him straight in the eyes. "You did everything you could. There's nothing you need to be sorry for. You understand me?", the hunter asked. Dean slowly nodded when Bobby squeezed his shoulder. "Good. The only person responsible for all of this is your dad. And believe me when I say that I have to pick a bone with him."

After finishing his little speech, Bobby was glad that Dean seemed to feel a little better. It was about time somebody told the kid that he was not responsible for the failures of his father. By now, it was late and completely dark outside. "Are you hungry?", Bobby asked, not knowing when Dean had had something to eat. The boy just shook his head as an answer, apparently too tired for conversation.

"Everything is going to be fine, Dean. You didn't do anything wrong.", Bobby repeated and stood up. "Get ready for bed, I'll be right back."

The older man went back downstairs, getting another bottle of water and an ice pack from the fridge. He closed the door maybe a bit too hard, having to refrain himself from calling John immediately. There would be enough time to give him a tongue-lashing after he made sure the boys were both asleep. Even better, dead to the world for the time being. Because it would not be a quiet conversation, he was planning on having with their father. The boys didn't need to witness that. Bobby had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves before he made his way back upstairs.

The sight that greeted him when he entered the guestroom made him grin affectionally. Dean lay next to Sam on the bed under the covers, the little guy in his arms sleeping half on top of him. Despite the events of the day, they both looked peaceful as they lay there, arm in arm. There were no traces of the stress and pain on their faces. Just two kids, hopefully chasing rainbows in their dreams instead of thinking about living a life with too much weight to carry on their shoulders.

Bobby tiptoed to the bed and put the bottle of water onto the nightstand. Then, he gingerly placed the cooling pack over Sam's still too warm neck. The boy twitched lightly in his sleep when his skin made contact with the cold surface and Bobby was afraid, he would wake up. Instead, Sam just cuddled deeper into Dean's side. The hunter smiled, happy that the brothers could at least count on each other when push came to shove.

Bobby took the blanket he brought and spread it out over his sleeping guests and the rather thin underlaying sheet. He thoroughly tucked them in before giving both an affectionate pat on the head, hoping that the medication would help and bring Sam's fever down eventually. The bedside lamp filled the room with a soft, orange light, throwing shadows over the children's peaceful faces.

"Good night, you two.", Bobby whispered into the silence. He closed the door but left it slightly ajar, should one of the brothers need something from him during the night. After he had taken care of everything upstairs, he finally sat down on his table, grabbing his phone. A more than unpleasant conversation was waiting for him, albeit only unpleasant for one participant. And that would not be him. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, certainly needing something strong for what was to come. With a strained sigh on his lips, he dialed the well-known number.

As soon as the ringing tone gave way to the harsh breathing of the younger hunter he grumbled, "John Winchester! Did you completely lose your mind?", without waiting for the other man to say something first.


TBC