Jim Murphy watched the Winchester boys for several days, since their father was on his first hunt with a seasoned hunter. Jim noticed that Dean acted like Sam's mother, he was constantly hovering around the little boy who was just learning how to walk. Constantly behind him making sure that he didn't fall, and if the little one did manage to fall, Dean was right by his side rocking the child and making soothing noises. It never took much for Sam to get back on his feet and risk walking again as long as he knew Dean was around. Sam was such an open and loveable child. Everyone in the church had oohhed and ahhhed over the youngest child. Told Jim how adorable he was, some had thought that the two boys were orphaned, and they would ask if they could take Sam home with them. No one ever asked if Dean needed a home, no one ever volunteered to let him play with their children.
The older boy was still a mystery to everyone. His refusal to speak often put off women who had the grandmotherly personality, rankled the young women who were used to their children speaking when spoken too, and frightened anyone, with a simple look and a grab for their hands, who came near his little brother or threatened to take the younger boy from his sights. Jim had caught Dean taking Sam with him to the bathroom once. When confronted, Dean had simply closed the door locking Jim out and Sam inside. Jim prayed a lot for the young boy, who had lost everything, and protected his brother fiercely.
He often wondered what exactly Dean had been like before he had lost his mother and had become his brother's guardian angel. Did he like sports? What had been his favorite toy? Was he outgoing? There were so many questions and John was loath to provide answers. He had a hard time speaking about the time before the fire. Jim supposed that was where Dean had learned his current behavior from.
Tired, Jim made a last turn through the small parsonage. He turned off lights, closed windows and secured the doors, both from human predators and supernatural ones. He was just about to head into his room when he noted a light on in the kitchen and heard a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. Then he heard a little grunt as if someone was trying to climb on top of something. Suddenly afraid that Sam, who had made crawling a science and toddling an art form, and who enjoyed pushing things around and climbing on whatever he could, had escaped his watchful brother's sights. He hurried down the corridor and in the doorway he saw Dean standing on a chair and filling his brother's sippy cup with water. The faucet was on full blast and Jim watched as Dean checked the temperature of the water with his little fingers, sending a spray of water arching through the air onto the little boy's face and pajamas and finally the floor. Dean used his other hand to maneuver the big stiff old handle that controlled the water temperature and forced it to make the water cooler. Never mind that he was trying to do this without the guidance of his eyes. They were firmly shut against the water that was spraying all over his face.
"Dean." he said quietly trying not to startle the boy. Dean heard his name and immediately sat down on the chair in which he had been standing. In his haste he dropped the cup in the sink and left he water on. The little boy's body was ram rod straight and he didn't move, not even one hair on his dirty blonde head moved. Jim wondered for a second if he was breathing.
Turning off the water, and crouching beside his charge he touched Dean's arm, Dean snatched it back as if Jim had touched it with a hot poker. "Dean." Dean looked at Jim, and Jim swallowed at the look of fear and determination inside them. Dean was scared out of his mind, this poor sad little five year old was terrified to walk around an unfamiliar house, climb up on a chair and get water for his baby brother, but he was determined enough to do it, he was determined to take care of his little brother, no matter what it cost him.
"Dean, you could have just asked me to get water for Sam." Water dripped from a strand of hair hanging in Dean's face. The child remained stony and silent. Green eyes blazing. His breathing picked up it's pace but otherwise the boy didn't move. Jim turned back to the sink, encouraged the faucet to release the water a little more slowly than it had, he checked the temperature, and filled the sippy cup, capped it and handed it to the child, who snatched out of his hands and scrambled out of the chair as fast as he could, Jim heard the door to the bedroom click shut softly. Jim let his shoulders slump.
"John, your boy needs you, more than any hunt." He said with a sigh and rested his back against the sink and prayed that God would help Dean Winchester.
"Sammy, here." Dean whispered. "It's not the juice you like, but it was all I could reach." He handed the child the cup and snuggled up against his brother and he listened to the sounds of his brother drinking the water and just as Sam drifted to sleep, Dean took the cup and finished off the water that Sam had left, threw the empty cup into a corner of the playpen, pulled Sam as close as he could and finally allowed himself to relax and fall into a sound sleep.