My sincere apologies for keeping you waiting, but Brigid Tanner, my intrepid proofer on this story, informed me that I couldn't possibly wrap everything up in just one chapter. So I decided to slow down and there will be a couple more chapters after this. Murphy's Law, the sequel to Lil' Sammy, will start posting real soon.

Chapter 34

Dean sprinted into the kitchen as the smoke filled the den. "Damn it!" he yelled, yanking open the oven door. Smoke billowed out, momentarily blinding him. What the hell could be burning, anyway? All this stuff just needed to be heated up and had only been in for a short time. He battled the smoke, pulling everything out trying to find the burning culprit.

"I'll get it!" Sam called out. Oh, perfect. This would be when someone arrived for dinner. "And I'll leave the door open!"

Sarcastic little shit, Dean thought viciously as he slammed the turkey down on the stovetop. Something was smoking like a cheap hooker way in the back.

"Geez, Dad. I thought Uncle Sam was the one who could burn water?"

"Help or get the hell out of the way," he snapped at Rae.

"I'm not in the way," she argued. Since when did that kid argue with him, anyway? Dean refrained from snapping back, concentrating instead on the smoking object right under the pan of dressing. He practically tossed the dressing on the counter, advancing on the black lump. The top of one of the containers billowed black smoke.

"Damn it!" he swore, his voice echoing inside the stove. He pulled back to try to catch some air, his eyes stinging and watering from the black smoke. He grabbed the smoking side and ran outside with it. In the fresh air, he could see blackened paper on top of the aluminum cover. Frowning, Dean nudged it with his oven mitt. It slid easily around, like it was lubricated. "All right," he shouted, not bothering to turn toward the apartment, "who the hell left a stick of butter on the potatoes?"

Dean spun around to face the others. Sam, Rae and Sarah stared at him. "A stick of butter?" Sam asked. "But how would a…oh."

"Oh?" Dean demanded. "What the hell does 'oh' mean?"

Sam gave him a lopsided smile, the one that used to get Sam out of practically anything back when they were kids. "I, uh, got it out to add to the mashed potatoes. I remember setting it on top of the pan. That was about the time Sarah called wanting to know what she could bring. I remember putting the pan in the oven."

"But you never actually put the butter inside with the potatoes, did you?" Dean shook his head. Sam probably could burn water, especially if he was distracted by a pretty lady. Sam grinned sheepishly.

Dean scowled. "Rae, you open all the windows. Sam, see if you can find a fan or something to blow this smoke out of the apartment." He turned his back on them, trying to pry the hot aluminum top off the container. "Hi, Sarah."

"Hi, Dean. Maybe I could go ask one of your neighbors for a fan?"

He did not bother turning around, choosing to focus on the still smoking side dish. "Sure, whatever." He heard her walk around him as he kept burning his fingertips on the container. Who knew butter could burn so damned fast, anyway?

"Dean?"

His head snapped up at the deep baritone. "Hey, Bobby. Starting to wonder if you were going to make it." He glared down at the side where the burning butter sent up thin tendrils of dark smoke.

"Wouldn't miss it," Bobby assured him, "I just had to pick someone up first."

"But who would you…" Dean froze as the obvious answer filtered into his brain. Oh, please, Bobby, he silently pleaded, don't tell me. He turned slowly from the offending side dish smoking on the sidewalk to face Bobby. Standing just behind his old friend was a woman with gray streaked hair wearing a dress covered in bright colored flowers. Miss Grimmault. She held a large dish in her hands.

It took everything he had not to scowl at her. "Miss Grimmault. Well, this is a surprise." He shot Bobby a strong look, making a mental note to jump Bobby's case later for springing this on them. He nearly forgot to pull off his oven mitt to shake her hand, finding it full of her dish instead.

"So what happened here?" she asked, stepping around Bobby to wrinkle her nose at the nasty package on the sidewalk.

"I let Sam heat up dinner." Dean shook his head. "Rae claims he could burn water. I think I agree with her."

She laughed. Dean turned to watch, unsure if he heard that right. Miss Grimmault was smiling and laughing, exchanging light laughs with Bobby. She didn't look half bad like that, considering her age. Dean could almost see what Bobby must see in her. Didn't excuse it, though.

"So, what's in here?" he asked, hefting the dish.

"Peach cobbler," Miss Grimmault said with a smile. "Same way my grandma used to bake it."

"Dad, I put everything back in the oven and all the windows are open. Gramps!" Rae sped out the door, crashing into Bobby like a run-away freight train.

"Hey, Sunshine!" Bobby laughed, hugging her back. Dean returned his attention to the mashed potatoes. He was certain the potatoes were fine, it was just the burned butter on the cover that was the problem. He set the cobbler down. With a deep breath, Dean grabbed the edge of the aluminum lid and wrenched it off.

"Dad? You didn't burn yourself, did you?" Rae inspected his hand.

Dean yanked his hand away. "I'm fine. Now let's get these potatoes back into the oven before your uncle can get his mitts on them again."

"I heard that," Sam's voice snapped. "Hey Bobby!"

"Sam," Bobby moved into the apartment. Dean followed the others, carrying the potatoes minus the smoking cover and the cobbler. Five adults around, and he was stuck carrying everything. Dean slid the pan back into the oven.

"Got one!" Sarah appeared triumphantly in the doorway with a box fan, which she set up just inside the door.

"You must be Bobby," she said, hand extended. "And this is?" her eyes drifted to Miss Grimmault.

"Judy," Miss Grimmault said, introducing herself.

"She brought cobbler," Dean said, forcing his best smile. Sam shot him that 'what the hell are you doing look,' which he steadfastly ignored.

"Where's the holy water?" Rae's voice hissed in his ear. Dean tried to nudge her gently while coughing back a chuckle. Honestly, when did the kid turn into a regular teen? He guessed he had Susan to blame – er, thank for that.

"So, what's the big event happening this weekend?" Bobby asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Dean beamed, nodding at Rae. "Tell him." She shook her head. "Tell him, or Uncle Sam will make you say grace over dinner."

Rae's cheeks went bright pink. "Skeet shooting."

Bobby's head tilted to one side. "Excuse me? Your big event this weekend is skeet shooting?"

Dean bobbed on the balls of his feet. "Father – son tournament." His face broke into a wide grin.

"But what does that…" Bobby turned to Sam.

"No rules against girls," Sam explained, also grinning.

"And great practice with a shotgun," Dean added.

Bobby barked out a short laugh. "Your daddy would definitely approve."

Dean felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the people in the room or the fact the air seemed less smoky now. "So, until dinner is ready, cards?"

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Judy Grimmault was a little surprised over Bobby's reaction to Dean Cooper's offer to play cards. He steadfastly refused. Instead, Bobby insisted on looking over Dean's photo albums. Dean did not look too pleased, but he brought one out.

"Where's the other one, Dean?" Bobby asked, taking it from the younger man.

Dean scowled. "Rae's not in that one. What's the point, Bobby?"

"Well, I thought maybe Sarah and Judy would like to see you boys when you were young. And cute." Bobby grinned at him.

Judy watched Dean hesitate for a moment. "Nobody wants to see that, Bobby."

"I do," Sarah interjected with a grin. "I'm sure Sam was a cute little kid."

Dean disappeared into the bedroom again, returning with another album. Both albums looked new, but the pictures inside were clearly old, especially in the non-Rae album. Bobby pointed out pictures of interest to her, most of which were of Dean and Rae together and how happy they looked. She could take a hint. Really.

When Bobby called and invited her to Thanksgiving dinner with his family, she refused. He spent an hour talking her into it, finally telling her that his granddaughter would be there. She found that intriguing since he never mentioned family, much less a granddaughter, before. After he picked her up, Bobby mentioned that his granddaughter was in her class. Pretty sneaky, considering she would never have come to a current student's home. It was a good thing Bobby was so good looking. He even dressed up today; his ballcap was new.

Judy tried to make the appropriate oo and ah sounds over the pictures Bobby pointed out. But really, most abusive families had loving pictures. However, most abusive fathers don't beam the way Dean did when Bobby talked about his daughter.

"And then," Bobby chuckled, "she decided that the hospital room walls were boring. So Rae started drawing pictures all over the walls."

"That's what happens when you leave a six year old alone with a box of crayons," Rae said, arms crossed over her chest.

"You weren't alone. Your dad and uncle were there!" Bobby protested, eyes sparkling.

"Asleep!" she argued, grinning. "Besides, you liked my pictures."

Bobby's face split into a wide grin. "First time you talked to me."

"What did she say?" Judy asked, overcome with curiosity.

Bobby chuckled. "Rae asked if I liked her decorations. I thought the nurse was gonna have a stroke when she walked in and saw that."

"I think I have a picture of them," Dean said, taking his photo album back. He flipped to the front of the book. "Yep. Here it is." He pointed out a picture of Rae standing in front of a well decorated white wall.

"Yes," Judy said with a nod, "that must have been one boring wall before."

"After that," Dean's face beamed, "we didn't have much trouble in talking them into releasing Sam a little early."

"You wanted him released early?" Judy felt puzzled. Who wanted out of the hospital before it was safe?

"I hate hospitals," Sam replied, a scowl on his face.

"Oh." Judy shifted uncomfortably next to Bobby. Was that pre-cooked dinner ready yet? She threw a glance toward the kitchen.

"Let me check on the turkey," Dean jumped up and crossed the space into the kitchen in a flash.

Despite the fact Bobby sprung his family on her, Judy found herself having a wonderful time at dinner. She was starting to believe these men were just overprotective. So far, she had seen no signs of abuse and Sammie Cooper was certainly comfortable at home. She was a completely different person. The child even teased her father and uncle during dinner. How many abused children did that?

After dinner, Sammie – er, Rae – snuggled up next to her father on the couch. After a few minutes of discussing Sam's new car, the girl fell sound asleep.

"Well, personally, I love it. At first I was a little disappointed it didn't have bucket seats," Sarah explained.

Dean shook his head, interrupting her. "I hate bucket seats."

"They're more comfortable for long road trips," Sarah argued.

Dean grinned. "But not for other things." His eyebrows waggled.

A whimper came from the sleeping girl. Everyone ignored it.

Sam's cheeks flushed bright red. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean waved his free arm. "It's the truth."

"What kind of car will Rae have?" Bobby asked. They all stared at him. "She will be old enough to drive in a few years."

"How about a tank," Dean mumbled as a second whimper erupted from his side. The arm wrapped around his daughter rubbed her arm soothingly.

Sarah appeared to be the only other person concerned about the child. "Is she all right?"

"Nightmare," Dean and Sam answered in unison.

"Why don't you wake her up?" Judy asked.

"If it gets bad," Dean replied, his eyes hard, "I will." When Judy continued to just stare at him, he added, "Sometimes bad sleep is better than no sleep." When he said that she could hear the resignation in his voice, like this was something he had to come to grips with years ago.

"So, uh," she faltered, torn between her concern and curiosity and the fact she was the one who pestered Family Services into looking into this unconventional family, "how long has she been having bad sleep?"

Sam sighed then. "Since day one." Dean shot him a hard look, which Sam deflected with a shrug. "She used to wake all the neighbors with her screaming. It's a good thing we used to move a lot."

Dean chuckled at that. "Even so, we did get kicked out a few times."

"Not many." Sam sat back in his folding chair. "Dean is great about making managers feel guilty." A bright grin flashed on the boyish face. She was starting to see why Bobby was so fond of this family. There was just something about them when they weren't being defensive and abrasive. A loud whimper came from Dean's side.

"Uh-oh." Sam stood, peering anxiously at Rae's face. He met Dean's eyes, shaking his head. "She's just getting wound up now."

Dean sighed. He pulled her up to sitting beside him, shaking her gently. "Rae? Rae." The whimper grew into a low, painful cry. Both Cooper men winced. Dean barked, "Sammie!"

Her eyes flew open. "Daddy?" She had a glazed look, like she was not seeing what was right in front of her. "Daddy!"

Dean grabbed her face with both hands. Judy had to admit, he held the child's face gently and his voice was controlled. "Sammie Rae, look at me." It was a commanding voice, she felt herself involuntarily obeying. "Rae, I'm fine. Look at me!"

Rae blinked a few times, the glazed look melting away into relief. "Dad!" Her arms flung around his neck, hugging him tight. Then she pulled back, inspecting his face carefully. "It really didn't get you?" she asked, clearly worried and upset. He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Uncle Sam!" she spun away from her dad, eyes searching out the face looming just over her. Rae reached up, checking his face, too. Satisfied, she collapsed back next to her father.

Sam rubbed her shoulder before sitting next to Sarah. "It ate our faces this time?" he asked, much to Judy's astonishment.

Rae nodded, clinging to Dean's side. "It was gross."

"I'll bet. I don't suppose you had a flare gun this time?" Dean asked, kissing the top of her head.

She shook her head. "It wasn't a Wendingo. It was a werewolf."

"Oh, well, that's different." Dean actually grinned at her. "Then you need silver bullets."

Rae sighed. "I know, Dad. But you don't always have what you need in your dreams."

"Well, we'll just have to work on that with Miss Susan, won't we?" Dean asked.

"I like her." Bobby declared. "Nice lady. How did that session about your parents go, Rae?"

Rae looked up, still breathing a little hard. "Fine."

"Fine?" Sam protested. "It went great, Bobby. First time Rae talked about what happened in years. She even remembered some details Dean forgot."

"But that's not saying much," Rae protested, lifting her head.

"Oh, thanks a lot, kiddo," Dean snarled, but there was a smile behind the words and he hugged her a little tighter.

Bobby leaned forward. "You finally tell them what happened before your daddy got there?"

Rae nodded. "But I really don't want to talk about it again."

Bobby smiled at her. "No problem, Sunshine." He reached out to ruffle her hair.

"So," Dean rubbed his hands together, "who's ready for that cobbler?" He grinned at them all as Rae rolled her eyes.