Dean woke, too hot curled around his brother in the narrow bed. Sam had crawled in as soon as they'd heard their father's steps retreating down the staircase.

At six Sammy was a scrawny kid all, elbows and shoulder blades, but he was getting too big to sleep with his brother in a single bed. Dean complained and rolled his eyes whenever Sam asked but he'd always lifted the cover to allow his brother to scoot in and settle next to him.

Slipping carefully out from under the blankets, tucking his pillow along Sam's back so that he wouldn't feel the cold, Dean slipped on his jeans and padded barefoot to the bathroom. The room was small, functional and way cleaner than the motel's washrooms that he and his family frequented. The old guy obviously lived alone, one toothbrush, one facecloth, one towel which Dean used after washing his hands.

The unmistakable fragrance of frying bacon wafted up from the kitchen and Dean could hear Mr Singer humming as he cooked. Dean paused on his way back to Sam and leant over the banister, the smell made his mouth water. The few times Dean had tasted bacon it had been more than delicious. Dad never bought bacon he said it was too expensive but occasionally when Dean'd had money he'd got himself and Sammy several slices and they'd enjoyed it the juice and melted butter running down their chins as they ate.

Dean wanted to go down, he wanted the bacon but he was worried about what his Dad would say. Dad didn't like it when they talked to people without him being there. They might let something slip. He sniffed the air again, the bacon sure smelled good and Bobby was a hunter, the guy knew the score, he knew about the monsters and stuff and last night he'd told Dad off, Dean'd heard him. A tiny seed of respect nestled inside Dean's gut; not many people had the balls to stand up to Dad and of those who did not many came out unscathed. The bacon won out and Dean, with a glance at his still sleeping brother, put his foot on the first step.

Not wanting to alert the hunter Dean kept his feet to the out edge of each tread. He needn't have bothered.

"Lay the table, cutlery's in the top draw in the cabinet by the backdoor."

Bobby Singer, looking much the same as he had the night before, had his back to Dean busy at the stove. Dean didn't move.

"You wanna eat you gotta earn it, gotta list of chores a mile long waitin' for you."

This Dean understood, orders, scutwork, payoff. The hunter turned frying pan in hand and Dean could see thick slices of bacon crisping along side the eggs.

"Well?"

Keeping his back to the wall Dean slid along the line of cabinets and pulled open the drawer. The knives and forks were neatly laid in each section, all turned the right way and all gleaming. This guy had been in the army like his Dad. Dean glanced back at the hunter who was filling a plate with the hot breakfast food, he was beginning to like Bobby Singer.

The bacon was soooo good, crispy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. Dean, after Bobby had assured him there was more in the fridge for Sammy, ate every scrap. He had seconds and thirds and all the while Bobby sat nursing a large cup of coffee with a wry smile playing on his lips.

When he'd finished Dean made sure to clear away his plate, cup, knife and fork, wash them, dry them and put them away. At that point Bobby stood rinsed his own cup and then regarded Dean with a critical eye.

"So what'you good for?"

Dean was a little taken aback not really understanding what the hunter meant.

"What can you do?"

"I can strip, clean and reassemble a 9mm Glock."

Dean thought that Bobby looked impressed but the hunter said nothing. He watched as the man rose and lifted a jacket from the line of pegs. He threw it to Dean who caught it deftly.

"Get your boots on and follow me."

XXXXXXXX

Rounding the first pile of rusting vehicles Bobby slowed his pace, he didn't want to get too far ahead of the boy. He liked Dean, he seemed like a straightforward kid but there was something sorrowful in his eyes and he was downright subdued, if not surly in his father's presence.

Bobby knew the history. Mother dead, father absent most of the time both physically and emotionally and Dean struggling to look after his brother as best he could, moving from town to town like they did. No kid should have to go through that, it didn't seem fair to Bobby and John, may god forgive him, was altogether too hard on his son. Bobby'd seen the dispassionate way the man dealt with Dean, ordering him around. The kid couldn't breathe without his father's permission.

"Over here."

He'd stopped in front of his latest project, a 1969 Camaro, supposedly green under the rust and definitely in need of some tender, loving, care under the bonnet.

"As you can see she needs a little overhaulin',"

The boy stopped next to him looking the car over with suspicion.

"Its 427 generates 430 horsepower and 450 foot-pounds of torque but you can tune it to generate 524 gross horsepower if it has a four-barrel like this one, an' a specially tuned carburettor, tuned ignition and racing headers, plus you might get a little more if you strip the air cleaner an' air conditioner… Weren't more 'an sixty-nine of these beauties made." Bobby ran his hand over the wing. "Watcha think?"

"S'nice." Dean mumbled and Bobby only just caught the words because the boy's head went down.

"You wanna help?"

"Can I? Really? You mean it?"

The instant change in the boy took Bobby by surprise. Anticipation gleamed and the whole attitude of his youthful body changed.

"Course, wouldna asked if I didn't mean it….Drag that box over here."

Dean ran to do Bobby's bidding making easy work of the heavy box. He was strong and Bobby saw that there was fluidity to the kid's movement that smacked of years of training. He clenched his fists he was gonna have words with John about this. These boys needed some down time and he was gonna make sure they got it.

"Don't you help your Dad with the Impala."

Dean shook his head. "Dad says I might break something and he don't really have time to show me."

Shaking his head and leaning over the car Bobby showed Dean the various parts of the engine, teaching him what all the tools were for and how to apply them. He let the boy use the wrench showing him how to change the tension and gave him his own oily rag which Dean shoved into his back pocket exactly like Bobby did.

"Will it go now?" The earnest face looked up into Bobby's own. Dean was smiling, dirt smudged on his brow and his green eyes sparkling. It made Bobby feel good as he laughed.

"No, we still got a long ways to go yet, kiddo." He ruffled the kid's hair. "But you did good."

Dean practically glowed under the praise and Bobby concluded that the boy didn't get much in the way of approval, another thing he'd have to add to the list to talk to John about.

"We can work on her again this afternoon if you like?"

Managing somehow to look disappointed at having to stop and nodding eagerly at the same time Dean turned back to gaze into the engine compartment. Bobby laughed again Dean'd got the bug all right. Now, he thought, they'd probably have a hard time dragging the kid away.

"You wanna drink?" Bobby reached down to the cooler box concealed behind a rusting radiator. He always kept it full, "Just in case," he told himself. Looking guiltily back at the house Dean nodded a smile twitching at his lips.

"A beer?" The boy looked hopeful.

Handing Dean a bottle of coke, Bobby gave him his best 'like I would give you alcohol' look then settled himself down beckoning the young Winchester to join him.

Together amongst the rusting wrecks they sat in companionable silence, the man and the boy. The smell of motor oil filling their nostrils as the morning sun soaked into the cotton of their shirts, warming their skin. Bobby, pulling at his brew mused to himself that life didn't get much better

"DEAN." John's voice bellowed out into the scrap yard. "DEAN." He sounded pissed.

The change in Dean's demeanour was immediate, back was the droop of the shoulders, the frowning, sullen, angry expression. His feet shifted slightly but he stayed close to Bobby as the elder hunter stood.

"DEAN." The voice was closer and the scrunch of footsteps drew it nearer.

"Over here." Bobby shouted a reply.

John came into view around the pile of cars that hid the Camaro from the house. He was dragging sleepy looking Sam who was still dressed in his pyjamas.

"Where the hell have you been? How could you leave Sammy on his own?"

This was all directed at Dean who seemed to cringe lower at each question. Bobby quickly stepped in between the irate father and his son. Dean had done nothing wrong and it had been at Bobby's bidding that he'd left the house.

"That'd be my fault John. You and Sammy were still asleep and I thought it'd do no harm to show Dean my new baby here."

It was now his turn to take the wrath of the father who turned face dark with anger.

"How dare you take my son. Don't you think I have enough problems without you undermining me at every turn?"

"Now hold up there John." Bobby stepped forward. "I did no more an feed the young un and then show him a thing or two about cars. Somethin' maybe you shoulda done…."

"Are you saying that I can't look after my boys."

Ouch Bobby inwardly winced he'd touched a raw nerve there. No way would he say that John hadn't looked after his boys but the man needed to ease up a little now and then.

"John, Sammy was asleep as were you, I got ways and means of hearin' anyone that comes up to the house and if it were somethin' ….bad then I got ways of hearin' that too."

John Winchester was beginning to grate on Bobby. The man had no trust even with people who were trying to help him. Part of Bobby understood why but he also knew that the hunter had to learn to share his burden or he was gonna crumble under its weight.

"Dean take Sammy and get him washed and dressed I think Mr. Singer here and I have a few things to get straight."

Winchester almost pushed his youngest at Dean. Sammy stumbled and tripped nearly falling head long to the ground but his brother was there to catch him, whispering into his sibling's ear as he righted him and using his T shirt to wipe away the tears that were beginning to form on Sammy's little pinched face he led him away.

Bobby waited until he heard the door bang after the brothers before he spoke.

"Dean was helpin' me, doin' chores for his keep. I would have thought you'd approve of your kid not takin' charity."

That hit home John Winchester was not a man to take kindly to someone suggesting that he took handouts. The younger hunter bristled but Bobby continued not letting the man interject. Things had to be said and it looked like Bobby was the only one that was gonna say them.

"John you gotta let up on the boy."

Winchester stared at him but Bobby wasn't about to flinch or deviate from his theme.

"He's a great kid, only you don't seem to see that. From the little time you've been here all I have seen is you wailin' on the kid for not being perfect. He's a ten year old John not a grunt."

Snorting indignantly John made to turn and retrace his steps back to the house but Bobby stopped him, dropping his voice.

"It ain't healthy John."

He didn't want to pull the father down completely but he was unprepared for the weary face which turned back toward him and he was deeply affected by how destroyed John Winchester looked. Sighing John lowered his gaze to the gravelled ground.

"Don't you think I know that Bobby, don't you think I want to go down the ball-park and play catch with him or take him and Sammy swimming at the pool or…."

John broke off and Bobby saw the father briefly before the shutters came down and the hunter returned. He understood John's fear and his anger subsided, sympathy taking its place but he knew John Winchester would not accept any show of kindness.

Gruffly he cleared his throat. "I'm not sayin' you shouldn't train the boy. In fact I think it's a good idea but you gotta let him be himself now an' again; not your boy, not Sammy's brother but himself. Dean's a good kid an' he's bright, he picked up a wrench today like he knew how to use it already without me saying nothin." Bobby put his hand on John's shoulder. "All I'm sayin' is every now and then let him be."

All Bobby got was a brief nod but it was enough, he'd got through to the man and so he was satisfied that John would at least think about what he'd said.

XXXXXXXX

The day was going slowly Bobby had dumped a pile of books a mile high in front of him and told him with a smirk at his expression to get reading.

John had opened the first volume and scanned the contents and then looked up at Bobby quizzically unsure of what he was supposed to be looking at.

"What you expectin' the A – Z of Demons?"

Grinning back John took the hint, turned the first page and began reading.

That had been four hours ago and despite several pages of notes John didn't think he was any nearer finding out what or who the demon with yellow eyes was. Sighing he shut the book in front of him and rubbed at his eyeballs pressing in and massaging the ache. Bobby had been sat at his desk for the first two hours but then announced that he needed a break, had beckoned to a restless Dean and left through the back door. John wearily set aside the book he'd finished and reached for the next. It was then he noticed Sam.

His youngest was sat cross legged on the floor leaning up against the armchair with a huge leather-bound tome, nearly as big as himself, resting on his knees. He was reading avidly tongue playing on his lips in concentration. Every now and then he turned a page running his finger down the dusty print until he found something that took his interest. Then he leant forward peering at the writing, frowning until he made sense of the meaning.

"What you got there son?"

"A big book Daddy." There was no trace of disrespect or impudence it was purely a statement of fact. " 'An it's got loads of intresting stuff." John watched him turn another page to reveal a large engraving. Sam viewed the illustration carefully then lifted his young serious face to his father. "Are you gonna kill all the monsters in the whole world Dad?"

John barked out a laugh. "I'm gonna try Sammy." Then inside he felt his heart squeeze and he whispered again. "I'm gonna try."

Slowly John opened the book in front of him, he hadn't given up hope of finding the information he needed but he was realising that it might take longer than he'd first envisaged. His initial intention of summoning the Demon and killing the sonofabitch now seemed ill conceived and over simplistic. In all of his research nowhere had he found anything that could kill a demon, absolutely. There were hints; tantalising glimmers that such knowledge existed but he could find nothing concrete.

Neither had he found any mention of a Yellow-eyed Demon. John skimmed the contents page. The archaic typeface danced feeding the burgeoning headache pulsing behind his eyes. He was dog-tired despite nine hours of sleep and he could feel his concentration slipping.

Slamming the book shut he stood and stretching his arms above his head he leant back pulling the stiffness from his shoulders and back. He needed clean fresh air. The sun might be streaming through Bobby's study window but it only served to emphasise the accumulated dust in the room.

Skirting the desk he made for the door then remembered Sam.

"Wanna go for a walk Sammy?"

"M'reading." The mop of brown hair stayed down hanging over the mottled pages.

"Sam!" It came out as a bark much harsher than John had intended despite his resolve to be more of a parent than a drill sergeant. He pulled himself up abruptly remembering Bobby's earlier words and softened his approach.

"Let's go see what Dean's been doing."

The effect was astonishing although John shouldn't have been surprised. The book, forgotten, slammed to the floor and Sam's hand was in his pulling him towards the screen door.

"D'you think he's built it by now. I bet Bobby gives him the car. D'ya think Bobby'd give me a car when I'm old enough? That'd be sooooo cool. Can I go for a ride with him Dad? Pleeeese."

John let Sam drag him down the porch steps enjoying the prattling enthusiasm that never ceased all across the yard and around the pile of discarded autos.

"WOW."

Sam stopped abruptly obviously awed by the sight of Dean smeared almost black with grease and engine oil as he sat next to the hips and legs of Bobby which poked out from under the Camero.

"Hey Dad."

White teeth flashed in smile so wide that it made John's heart swell. His son looked happy. Then a rush of sadness swept over him alongside a determination to do right by his sons. Sam and Dean were precious to him and yes his first priority was to keep them safe but he realised again that Bobby Singer was right there were times now that they were older when and he was going to have to give a little.

However that did not mean he was going to slack on the training; Dean especially. If he was going to give his eldest son more freedom then he was going to make damn sure the boy knew how to take care of himself and his brother.

"Look at you." John leant down and ruffled his eldest hair. "Gonna have to put you in charge of the Impala."

"Really?" Dean was hopeful and doubtful.

"Yeah really," Crouching down next to his son John picked up an encrusted spark plug. "With a few more lessons I reckon you'll make chief mechanic."

Bobby rolled out from under the car revealing himself to be as black as Dean. He smiled up at John, nodded at him and winked at Dean. "Probably'll own his own garage some day."

"Probably." John agreed sending out a prayer that whatever deity was listening would grant his son that wish.

" 'An I'm gonna look after Bobby's library." Sam announced not to be left out grinning, dimples showing on his cheeks. " 'An get more an' more books on …on everything."

Rumpsfeld, lying on the porch in his usual position, lifted his head, pulled from his afternoon snooze as laughter rang out over the wrecking yard. He sneezed shaking his large head, ears flopping, drool flying before he rested back down. Alert discontinued.

XXXXXXXXX

"Have you ever summoned a Demon?"

Bobby was hit with the question as he came through the door rubbing his hair with a towel. He'd made Dean go wash up first smearing him with the green gel of grease remover before even allowing him in the house. Sam had danced around the two of them shouting that Dean looked like a Snot Monster and narrowly avoided getting a face full of the evil smelling stuff from his brother.

Both boys were now lounging all over Bobby's sofa in the front room watching cartoons with a bowl full of sweet popcorn and the man himself had finally been able to use his own bathroom to shower the grime from his body and don clean clothes.

John had gone back to the research as soon as they'd got into the house. He was one driven man Bobby concluded, although he'd been please to see that John had taken their frank exchange of views on board and loosened his steely grip on the boys somewhat. The elder hunter hoped that it would last but he had a bad feeling that as soon as anything came near the two Winchester siblings John would again clamp down. It was in his nature and Bobby knew that however hard the father fought against the hunter he would always slip back to the ingrained behaviour.

Pulling the towel down he regarded John and answered the man's question.

"No."

It came out as a growl and he immediately pulled back, calming the surge of feeling that had suddenly risen to choke his throat but too late John had picked up on it.

Sitting back the hunter raised an eyebrow searching Bobby's face for the reason behind the change in his demeanour.

"You okay?"

Bobby squirmed he didn't want to do this, he never wanted to do this… with anyone.

"I'm fine. You found anything?" Trying to sound 'normal' Bobby sat on the scruffy sofa under the window still rubbing absently at his wet hair.

"Now you're avoiding the issue."

"There is no issue." The growl returned and in the silence that followed Bobby felt a prick at his conscience. Not that he had anything to feel guilty about or that he owed John Winchester any explanations but somehow this family had got under his skin and maybe he could stop this now; stop John from doing something totally foolhardy.

Sighing he leant forward pushing his hand over his hair to the nape of his neck, smoothing absently over the taught muscles.

"John, Demons are nasty things, powerful, unpredictable, amoral and that's not mentioning that they're downright dangerous. To summon one you gotta be two cans short of a six-pack."

"So you said before but I'm not hearing a whole lot more."

Damn him, the man didn't give up.

Looking at the floor Bobby exhaled. "Look, John, I know what you're going through, what you've been through …" The scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor cut him off. John Winchester was up on his feet and rounding the desk.

"How can you possibly know?"

He was dismissive and Bobby stood matching Winchester's height with his own anger burning in his veins.

"I know 'cause a demon killed my wife."

"Thaaatss allll folks." The cartoon's, happy silly sounds drifted from the other room, the perky liveliness in blunt contrast to the heavy stillness between the two hunters.

Bobby, immediately the words were out of his mouth, regretted their utterance. He hadn't wanted to tell John about his life, about his private things but the man was so fixated on this summoning and Bobby needed to bring home to him the rashness of his proposed action.

"She…"

"You don't have to tell me." The anger was gone from John now replaced in his eyes with a deep sympathy. Bobby wanted to punch him. He didn't want sympathy and he didn't want understanding.

"I know I don't have to tell you but how else am I going to get it into your thick head that what you want to do is stupidity itself."

Bobby watched as John, sighing, sat on the edge of the desk and looked up. "I'm not asking for your approval Bobby, I'm gonna do this with or without you but I am … asking for your help"

"You're a stupid stubborn-assed idjit you know that don't you."

John grinned a reply. "Takes one to know one."