A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading my fic. Wow. I can't believe how much traffic this has gotten! And the follows and favs! You people are amazing!
CatstielWinchespurr: Thank you for your review. You're the first, so, congratulations! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm writing chapters as we speak, so look out for more! I love your username, by the way. :)

I do not own Supernatural or it's characters.


Chapter 2


John returned to the waiting room a short time later, too emotionally drained to notice his children's misery, or, indeed, give more than a passing, "Good job, Dean. Let's go to the car." He also had too much on his mind. He had already arranged another appointment with Missouri, and she had given him her number in case he needed to call her. Still, it had been a month since the fire, they were running out of money, and he could no longer afford to give Mary's murder his undivided attention. He returned to work, tolerating the stares of his coworkers as best he could, along with the obligatory, "I'm sorry, John, my condolences." that seemed to come from every quarter. He wanted to tell them to shut up, to let him pretend that everything was normal. He couldn't, of course, but it didn't make the wanting any less. So instead he took his frustration out on the cars he was supposed to repair, channeling his anger into doing the best possible job. His arms ached from the exertion, and he was glad of it. It took his mind off other things.


Meanwhile, he had arranged for a babysitter to watch the kids while he was at work. Dean sized her up as he heard Daddy start downstairs. She was a skinny 17-year-old blond, trying to earn some extra pocket money for christmas presents, and maybe a perm. Her hair was going flat, and her parents refused to pay for any more perms. Dean decided instantly that he hated her. He glared as she knelt down to his level, "Hi, Dean, I'm Cindy. I think we're going to be great friends." The expression on Dean's face seggested decidedly otherwise. If looks could kill, Cindy would have been a small pile of ash on the carpet. She got back up, "Okay, so your dad said your brother's right in the next room. Why don't we go and see him?" She glaced at the paper in her hands, "It's almost time for his morning feeding anyway." Dean followed her towards the bedroom, unwilling to let the intruder out of his sight. She didn't even know anything, there wasn't a schedule. Sam ate when he was hungry, any idiot knew that. He watched her suspitiously as she leaned over Sam's crib, "Oh, aren't you just the most precious little thing!" Sam giggled happily, waving his arms and legs, and she gasped, reaching in to pick him up.
Dean decided enouph was enouph. He would put up with a lot, but the idea of this STRANGER holding Sam was too much to bear.
Cindy yelped as a small foot connected with her shin. She turned away from the crib, narrowing her eyes at the demonic, shaggy-haired cherub that was currently grinning up at her, looking quite pleased with himself. Sam giggled again. This did nothing to improve her mood. "Dean, did you just kick me?" she said, her voice full of icy menace. Dean nodded, the grin remaining intact.
"Do you know what happens to little boys who kick their babysitters?" Dean shook his head, still grinning.
"Well, I'll tell you. They get to sit quietly in the corner until their dad gets home, then the babysitter tells him all about his rotten kid." She started toward him and he screamed gleefully, turning and running away as fast as his short legs would carry him, somehow rapidly vanishing in the small apartment. Cindy stood for a second, staring after him, then turned back to the crib, where the seven-month-old had stopped smiling and was starting to fuss. She checked him over and soon located the source of the distress. She looked over the list of instructions, "Okay, so diapers are under the sink." She sighed and picked him up, "Well, Sammy, let's go get you fixed up. I guess I might as well feed you while I'm at it." Dean watched her from his hiding place. He hated her messing with Sam, but given her threats, he decided to just watch from a safe distance. Anger boiled within him. Why did Daddy allow this imposter into the house? Mommy was supposed to be there, chattering to him as she went about her chores, not some ugly, other woman that he didn't like. The problem was, he had started to concider what Daddy had said, that Mommy might not come back, so it was possible that this... person... might be staying.

A few hours later, Cindy was starting to get worried. The elder Winchester brother still hadn't shown his face. She started to look for him. After all, how many places could there be to hide in a small apartment?
She found him, eventually, hiding under his dad's bed. She drew in a breath to yell at him, when she noticed the tears on his cheeks. She couldn't stay mad at him, not looking like this. Her heart melted and she pulled him from under the bed and into a hug. He stiffened, then sank into the embrace, tears rolling liberally down his face, to miserable to protest, "W-why did Mommy hafta go away?" She held him, shhhing soothingly, "It was g-good. And now, Daddy doesn't even like me." She rubbed his back, "Of course your Daddy likes you."
"Then why doesn't he talk to me? He just- he just sits at the table, and sometimes he goes away." He paused, choking a little, "What if he doesn't come back? What if he goes away for good like Mommy? What are me and Sammy gonna do?" She squeezed him tight, unsure what to say. The poor kid seemed so lost. From what he said, it seemed his dad had been far too wrapped up in his own grief to concider how his kids might be affected, or even to talk to them about what had happened. What a jerk. Dean was clinging to her, sobbing into her shoulder like he had never been hugged before. It suddunly occured to her that he might not have since his mom's death. Right then she wished John Winchester was standing in front of her. She wanted to punch him for the way he had treated these boys. His sobs started to die down into hiccups and she held him away from herself to look him in the eye, "Here. I'll tell you what. How about we go into the kitchen, and I make you some lunch. I'm not much of a cook, but I can make a PB&J." Dean stared at her, wide-eyed, and whispered, "Really?" His wonder at her offer confused her until, "Mommy used to make me PB&J." She smiled sadly, poor kid, "Would you like me to make you one? You can talk if you want to, tell me about your mom." He tilted his head, concidering her offer, "Ummm, okay. But you hafta cut the crusts off. Mommy always cut the crusts off." She laughed a little, picking him up and settling him on her hip, "Okay. PB&J it is, then." She bounced him lightly, "Wow, you're heavy!" He giggled, and they made their way to the kitchen, where Cindy made lunch while Dean followed her around, regaling her with stories. Then they watched some TV. Cindy sprawled out on the couch and Dean curled into her midsection, holding Sam like a security blanket. He had refused to do anything without him. The teenager smiled down at the pair. They were such great kids once you got to know them, even Dean. You just had to get on his good side. She looked back at the screen, and so they passed a pleasent afternoon.


That pleasent afternoon was followed by many others, and Dean came to look forward to her daily appearance. Christmas was rapidly approaching, and today they were visiting a Christmas tree farm. Cindy walked among the trees, pushing Sam in his stroller, while Dean dashed all over the place, never lighting in one spot for long. "Sissy! Sissy!" he yelled from somewhere on the property. The girl smiled. Dean hadn't quite managed to get her name right, and she hadn't bothered to correct him. As an only child, she found the mispronunciation rather sweet. She called back, "Where are you, Dean? I can't see you." She heard her nickname again, followed by, "I've found it! The perfect tree! Over here! Sissy!" She followed his voice and finally found him, jumping up and down excitedly beside a massive conifer. Her eyebrows went up, "I'm not sure that'll fit in the car, or the apartment." Dean pouted, "But it's perfect." Sam smiled, squealed, and kicked his legs as though in agreement. Cindy started away from it, "Come on, I'll bet we can find a tree that's perfect and fits in you guys's front room." Dean gazed up at his tree mournfully, then followed her, dragging his feet. He soon forgot it, however, and when they found another tree, one small enouph and within their price range, he was just as excited, shouting his glee as he tried to help Cindy move it to the car.