Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and Warner Bros.

A/N - Hello again! Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter but with everything going on in the world, it's hard sometimes to focus on writing. Still, hopefully it's worth the wait. Without further adieu, please enjoy!

A Home For Wayward Sons

Chapter Four

"This way, boys," Bobby said, gesturing ahead of him through the kitchen to the stairs. He was a little self-conscious about the state of his house since he didn't get many guests other than hunters and there were books and clutter all over the place, but judging by the motel the Winchesters had been staying at, his home would probably seem like the Ritz to them.

Bobby shook his head as he thought back to the moment Sam had unlocked the door to their motel room, ushering his younger brother inside and directing him to start collecting their stuff. Bobby's first impression of the place had not been great, and neither had the second or third impression. Two small twin beds, a tiny kitchenette with no oven, only a small, grotty fridge and a microwave, and a frayed couch – moved closer to the beds and placed deliberately by the door - with a pillow and blanket spread over it. They had only been there for half an hour at most, but Bobby had heard violent shouting and banging in the room next door, seen at least one drug deal, and heard police sirens blaring almost constantly. It was no place for anyone to live, let alone young boys.

There was no sign John had been anywhere near the place in weeks either, and Bobby had no doubt that it was because he hadn't. Bobby had felt his anger growing more and more, the longer he spent there. Not at the boys, who had obviously been doing the best they could with what little they had – even to the point where one of them, Dean he suspected, had been sleeping on the couch because there weren't enough beds for the three of them - but he was angry with their father. The man was a damn idiot and Bobby was going to make sure he knew it the next time he saw him.

For now though, Bobby thought, bringing himself back to the present, he had the man's kids to take care of, which was giving him a big enough headache as it was.

Sam and Adam trudged ahead of him towards the stairs that would lead them to his spare bedrooms, backpacks on their shoulders. Bobby rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Hell, he'd need something stronger than coffee soon if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Bobby bet they wouldn't even wait five minutes before asking to go back to the hospital to be with their brother.

"I'll show you where you'll be bunking down and then we can sort you out with something to eat for lunch," he offered. "I'm betting you haven't had much to eat since it all went down."

"We had breakfast," Adam mumbled, clearly flagging after all the excitement of the morning. "Dean made sure."

Bobby frowned, looking from Sam to Adam a little more closely. The boys looked more like street rats than normal kids, with their well-worn clothing and unkempt hair. He knew they'd had a bad day, so that would account for some of it, but if the motel room was anything to go by, he was starting to get a bad feeling that it was more than that; that maybe they'd just had a bad life.

Bobby wasn't not a naïve man. He knew that hunting was a hard life with horrors round every corner, and that these boys, as young as they were, would have seen their fair share, but he would have hoped that they would have at least had their basic needs met, that they would not have been neglected on top of everything else they had to deal with.

When he'd mentioned lunch to the boys, he'd assumed they'd had breakfast already because what kid didn't get breakfast, but Adam had said it as if it wasn't a sure thing, but that Dean had made sure. Not John, Dean. What in the hell was John Winchester playing at…?

"We're fine," Sam told him firmly, bringing Adam in close to his own body, and Bobby knew the boy had noticed the scrutiny and was telling to mind his own business.

"Look, son – "

"I'm not your son," Sam interrupted with a scowl. Bobby knew the kid was worried about his big brother, which was the only reason he didn't roll his eyes at the blatant disrespect. Lord save him from moody pre-teens…

"Look, Sam," Bobby began again, pointedly raising an eyebrow. "Visiting hours at the hospital are over, and now that your brother is stable, they ain't going to let you see him until later. You may as well get settled and eat something, they we'll see about getting you back there."

"I want Dean, Sammy," Adam mumbled tiredly. It was clear to both Bobby and Sam that the kid had reached his limit.

That, more than anything Bobby was saying, seemed to get through to the middle Winchester. Sam crouched down in front of his brother and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"You heard the doctor, Adam," Sam began gently. "Dean is going to be just fine. He's a little banged up but we'll see him later. Like Mr Singer said, we'll go back as soon as we can. Maybe we can even pick Dean something up from the gift shop, huh? I'm thinking something big and pink and fluffy…"

Sam wiggled his eyebrows and earned a giggle from Adam.

"Good plan," Bobby nodded. "But please, for the love of god, can you stop calling me Mr Singer. It's Bobby."

"Fine, Bobby," Sam smirked. This time Bobby did roll his eyes. "Where are we staying?"

"Well I have a couple of spare rooms…"

"We'll stay together," Sam interrupted, standing up beside Adam and pulling the boy to his side. "We always stay together."

"Dean too," Adam added anxiously.

Bobby's mind went back to the tiny motel room the boys had been staying in, two single beds and a couch, and he thought he might understand. They'd probably barely spent a night apart.

Bobby knew when to pick his battles and just shrugged. "Makes no difference to me, boy. I've got one room with two twin beds in it already, and I'm sure we can get a cot bed in there no problem when your brother is well enough to leave the hospital."

Since he was the unofficial research hub of hunting in this part of the country, he had hunters stay with him all the time, John Winchester included, so he had enough space. He could only hope that these two boys had better manners than some of his usual guests.

"We'll eat and then Adam can take a nap, but after that, we're going back to the hospital, visiting time or not," Sam told him firmly. "Dean hates hospitals, but he hates being away from us more. He woke up earlier and he'll wake up again. He'll do something stupid if we're not there."

Bobby bristled a little bit at the tone Sam was using, but didn't say anything, since Sam clearly wasn't asking for permission. Obviously he had quite a bit of his daddy in him after all. Bobby had no doubt in his mind that the kid would haul himself and his little brother back to the hospital on the back of a pick up truck if he had to. The kid was stubborn; definitely a Winchester.

"So are you going to show us this bedroom then, or are we going to have to guess?" Sam asked snarkily.

Dammit, he was too tired and old for this shit. He was starting to see the benefits of Sam's plan to get back to the hospital as soon as possible, especially if it meant someone else could deal with the kid's attitude for a bit.

For now though, it was Bobby's problem. He bit back a curse, even though these kids had probably heard worse from their daddy on a normal day.

Still, Bobby scowled right back at the Winchester boys. "Right this way, your highnesses…"

Dean hated waking up in hospital.

Although he had been hurt more times than he could count, he hadn't actually spent that much time in a hospital bed, but he had still hated it with a passion those times he had.

His dad, for obvious reasons, had always made an effort to avoid the kind of serious scrutiny that hospital visits brought on, preferring instead to self-medicate and teach his young kids how to stitch up wounds themselves rather rely on doctors or nurses. For anything more serious, anything they couldn't manage themselves, they'd go to a free-clinic or some back-room doctor who took illicit payments for his expertise and used whiskey instead of medication to numb the pain. Dean still had the scars from some of those visits, scars he had no doubt could have been avoided if he'd gone to the hospital.

Still, he understood why they couldn't go to hospitals, why they couldn't afford people to get the wrong idea about their injuries and jump to conclusions. Dean could handle a few extra scars if it meant social services stayed off their back.

Speaking of which, with their dad not around, Dean knew those questions were coming now whether he liked it or not. He probably should be grateful that Bobby Singer had stepped up to stall the questions for now, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew not all cops were either. It would be easy for them to work out where he and his brothers had been staying and from there it would be a simple matter to check whether their father had been at the motel lately. Which of course, he hadn't.

Shit, this was not good…

Dean shifted in the bed and clenched his eyes shut as his head swam dangerously. He hated hospital drugs, barely tolerated strong pain meds outside of hospitals since he didn't like how they made him feel, so he would take whiskey over drugs any day. Although considering the way he felt at the moment, he wasn't sure how helpful good old Jack Daniels would be at the moment.

He felt rough, although at least he was more with it this time.

When he'd first woken up after the accident, he hadn't really noticed the pain, although he knew he had to have been drugged up to the gills at the time. It must have been a few hours since then, because he was starting to feel the full extent of his battered condition now.

Still, feeling rough had never stopped him before, not when his brothers needed him. His dad might have trusted Bobby Singer to act as his back-up, but Dean didn't trust anyone with Sam and Adam, except himself. He didn't even trust dad, not really, not when he was so focused on the hunt that he sometimes forgot he had three sons that he should be taking care of.

No, Dean thought, they were his responsibility, one he'd taken on since he was 4 years old, and he'd be damned if he let a little thing like a hit and run stop him from for fulfilling that responsibility.

Dean grunted as he pulled himself up on the bed. If it had been a couple of hours since he'd first woken up, he assumed there would be someone to check up on him sooner rather than later, when they did their rounds. He wouldn't have long to escape, and escape he would. No way was he hanging around a hospital, especially since he was fine.

Well, he amended, wincing as pain laced through his chest and shoulder at his movement. Mostly fine. Fine enough to leave anyway.

His ribs hurt, but he'd had broken ribs before and he could deal with that. Hell, he'd ganked a ghost with two broken ribs when he was thirteen; if he could handle that, he could handle a stupid thing like getting out of bed. Still he was careful not to jostle them too much as he pulled his body up, using his right arm since his left arm was apparently out of action as well. He wondered if it was worth waiting for the doctor to come just so he had a rundown of what was wrong with him, but he nixed that idea pretty quickly. He was right-handed anyway, and as long as he could still shoot, he could live with that too.

The main issue, he assessed, would be the left knee, which felt numb in all the wrong ways, even despite the fading effect of the drugs the hospital had him on. Dean glanced down at his legs and winced at the amount of strapping on his leg. Dammit, this was going to be a problem if he was going to make his escape. He might have to re-think his initial strategy…

"Mr Winchester?"

Dean looked up, expecting to see a nurse or doctor, but was surprised to see a police officer, a deputy sheriff judging by her badge. Dean immediately tensed up, a natural reaction in response to any attention from the authorities.

"I'm Deputy Jody Mills," she introduced herself. "You mind if we have a talk? I've got a few questions about the car accident."

"Hit and run," Dean said. "Idiot was all over the road, so I'm guessing he was drunk. He might not have meant to hit us, but I ain't calling it an accident. And I assume, if you're here, he didn't stick around so..."

"Hit and run," Mills amended with a nod.

"So, how can I help you, Deputy?" Dean asked, mask of politeness in place as his mind whirred through his options now. He'd only been briefly conscious when Sam and Adam had been in his room, so apart from the fact that they'd be staying with Bobby Singer, he had no idea what story they'd gone with this time to explain their dad's absence or their relationship to Bobby.

"I have to say, I'm glad to see you awake, Mr Winchester," she began, and Dean was surprised to see that she appeared sincere. "You had us all worried for a second there. Your brothers especially."

Dean bristled at the mention of his brothers.

"Like I said, I just have some questions for you, if you're feeling up to it."

It wasn't a question, it never was, but Dean tried his luck anyway.

"I have a bit of a headache actually. Getting hit by a car will do that to a guy. Can't it wait?" Until I leave the state, Dean finished to himself.

"Mr Winchester…" The Deputy began.

"Dean," he interrupted. "Mr Winchester is my dad. I'm Dean."

"Okay Dean, that actually brings me on to my first question. Where is your father?" she asked. "We've been unable to contact him."

"He works," Dean replied tightly, trying to rein in his anger. "He's a single dad, and I'm old enough to look after my brothers."

"Not long-term."

"Well it's a good job he arranged to have us stay with Uncle Bobby then, isn't it?" Dean shot back. It was the obvious play, so Dean hoped like hell that this was the story they'd gone with, otherwise things were about to get a hell of a lot worse. Still, even if he was right, he knew he'd have to keep his responses as vague as possible to avoid contradicting anything his brothers or Bobby had already told her.

"Yes, Uncle Bobby," she nodded. "Your dad's brother."

"Mom's," Dean replied without missing a beat. He had to make an effort to hide his smile at her obvious attempt to trap him. "Dad doesn't have any siblings."

Mills didn't look phased at his response, so Dean wasn't sure if he'd passed the test or just confirmed her suspicions. Dammit, she wasn't as dumb as the usual small town Sherriff. He needed to redirect the conversation, and quick…

"Look, can't this wait?" Dean began. "Only I really need to piss, and I sure as hell ain't using a bed pan in front of you."

He began to carefully shift his dodgy leg over the side of the bed, closing his eyes as he placed his foot slowly on the floor. Dammit, no way was that going to hold his weight…

"Little help," he grunted as he pulled himself onto his feet. He wobbled, his assessment right, and he probably would have fallen if the deputy hadn't reached forward and grabbed hold of him. Dean bit back a groan but closed his eyes as pain rocked through his chest. Dammit, that hurt...

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked incredulously. "Should you even be getting up? You just got out of surgery."

"Minor surgery," Dean lied, shaking his head as if he could shake away the pain. He had no idea he'd even had surgery, no one had spoken to him yet. "I'm fine, I just really need to piss. You can either help, or watch me piss my pants, your choice, lady."

"Stop saying piss, she muttered half-heartedly, although she did take a firmer grip on his right arm as he began to do a combination of hopping and shuffling over to the adjoining bathroom.

Pain rocked through him again at the movement, but he made no sound, biting his lip to keep himself from screaming. This was a stupid idea, but he had to do something.

"Shit," he said instead, partly to annoy her and partly because it hurt like hell. He closed his eyes, tried not to puke. "Son of a bitch."

"Nearly there," she coaxed, and to her credit, she didn't call him out on the further swearing. Dammit, he felt like shit. He was a little ashamed by how weak he felt from the few steps he'd taken, but he didn't let it stop him.

Man up, he told himself forcefully. He had bigger things to worry about than a bit of discomfort. He had to make sure Sam and Adam were okay, and to do that, he had to get back on his feet.

With his resolve back, and with the help of Mills, Dean finally made it to the bathroom without any further fuss, even though his ribs were screaming out to him and his shoulder felt like a white-hot fire was burning in him. He knee wasn't even responding to him anymore, but he dragged it forward anyway. He could do this, he had to do this…

"Shit," he muttered as he finally grabbed the doorframe of the bathroom like it was a life-raft.

"Dean..."

He shrugged his good arm away from the Deputy.

"I got it from here," Dean said, hating how out of breath he was. "Thanks."

"You need me to get a doctor, kid?" Mills asked. Clearly she thought he needed one, judging by the frown on her face. Hell, even Dean knew he needed one, at least to get a better idea of what he was dealing with, but stubbornness won out.

"I'm fine," he replied firmly. "I got it from here, thanks."

"Tough," she replied, frowning as she watched half hobble, half hop into the bathroom. "I'm getting one anyway. Hang tight, try not to die in the meantime."

"Ain't a big fan of Elvis' music, sure as hell don't want to die like him," he shot back, nodding towards the toilet in reference to Elvis' infamous death.

"See that you don't," the Deputy replied. "Listen, we'll hold fire on the questions for now but I will be back. Don't try to get back to bed by yourself when you're done. You'll only make things worse, and you've got those brothers to think about. I'll go get someone to help you."

There was something in her voice that set her on edge. "They're okay, aren't they? Sam and Adam, they're okay?"

"They are, thanks to you," She replied, voice softening. "You did a good thing, Dean."

"They're my brothers," he shrugged, as if it explained everything. To him, it did.

Maybe to Mills too.

"Look after yourself then," she said, and he wondered if she'd clocked that he was going to try and escape as soon as he was left alone for more than a minute. "The boys are fine with Bobby for the moment. He'll look after them."

"You know him then?"

"We've met," Mills said, then, appearing to come to a decision. "It's a small town. Look, Dean, we both know he's not your Uncle – "

"You won't hear me say any different," Dean replied stubbornly, heart beating out of his chest. As much as he didn't trust Bobby Singer, they were safer with him than in a foster home.

"I wasn't born yesterday, kid," she continued with an eye roll. "But I do know Bobby. And rough though he may be, he ain't no threat to your boys. He'll make sure they're fine until your dad gets here, or until you're well enough to confirm it for yourself. You hear what I'm saying?"

Dean thought he did. Dad wasn't coming, he knew that. He needed to get the hell out of here to make sure they were okay, and to do that, he was going to need to see what the doc had to say because even he could admit that he was in no condition at the moment to make his escape. Dean shook himself in disgust. He hadn't even been able to get to the bathroom without someone holding his damn hand, what the hell use was he to Sam and Adam…?

"You need to get well," she said, "For them."

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, even though she had already turned and left, presumably to go and get that doctor. He closed the bathroom door behind him and immediately dropped onto the closed toilet seat, panting hard. Dammit, everything was spinning out of control. Dad, was going to kill him, if he ever came back to check up on them, and Dean wouldn't even blame him.

He had one rule for Dean, a simple one, and Dean was failing miserably. Look after Sam and Adam.

Dean looked down at his battered body and fought the urge to punch a wall. How in the hell was he supposed to do that now?

A/N - So how was it? I love Jody in the show so I couldn't resist bringing her more into this story - I hope you like the addition, and if so, would you like to see more? Don't worry, the focus of the story will be Bobby and the boys, but Supernatural has so many great characters that I can't help but want to include some of them. Please let me know what you think so far, I'd appreciate any and all feedback you can spare the time to give. Until next time, thanks for reading!