Author's Note: Happy New Year's! Sorry for my extended absence, I was busy dealing with real life. Anyways, I'm back and here is a nice prompt from Priya723, who asked for, "Weechester possibly with Baby Sam and John by side, also together with our dean! Any kinda cute hurt baby Sam would do!" Surprisingly, this prompt was a huge challenge. I'm not used to writing the boys when they're little, but it is nice to push myself! Thank you for the prompt! Please enjoy! So, Sam is one here and Dean is five. Also, I miss Bobby a lot so he ended up in this piece too. Please enjoy!

Of all the crises that Bobby thought he would be involved, somehow this one topped it all. For there was John Winchester—a brand new hunter, only in the life for six months—standing on his doorstep with little Sam in his arms and Dean on his side. John's face conveyed the sheer fear that must've been coursing through his system, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Dean glanced up at his father and appeared to be on the verge of tears. Bobby wasn't close to this little family—he barely knew John and had only met him a few times since John had joined the life—but for the first time since Karen died, he felt something stir within him.

"Come inside." He ordered gruffly, confused as to why he was doing this. He never liked kids and hated company. "What happened?" Bobby glanced around looking for something that could function as a crib for the little baby. The best he could do was an old play pin that Karen had bought years ago when she had been preparing to talk to him about having kids. It brought out bittersweet memories for the gruff hunter, but it would finally prove its usefulness. Gently, John placed Sam down on top of a blanket and gently rubbed Sam's forehead with his thumb. Dean stood up, peering down at the sleeping baby. He glanced at Sam and then back up at his father, as if he asking permission to do something.

"Daddy." Dean prompted and John nodded his head.

"He's okay, Dean," John soothed, though the lie wasn't that convincing and Bobby could see through it. Still, it seemed to placate the young child who then placed his own hand on top of Sam's forehead and frowned with how warm it was. "Just let him rest."

"John," The father met Bobby's gaze and he could see just how exhausted he truly was. Dark bags were under his eyes and Bobby felt a pang of sympathy go through him. "You should get some rest."

John shook his head in acknowledgment, but made no move to rise.

"Daddy," Dean began, tugging on John's arm. "Sammy is still hot."

"I know, kiddo," John replied, ruffling Dean's hair. "We just gotta wait and let the medicine do its job." Dean nodded, though he didn't seem quite convinced with this answer.

"Dean?" The young child glanced at Bobby, as if he was noticing him for the first time. "Why don't you help me make dinner?"

"No, I gotta look after Sammy."

"Dean," Bobby tried again, adding a little sharpness to his tone. "I could really use your help."

"Go on," John told his son, nudging him slightly. "I can watch Sammy for a bit." Reluctantly, Dean nodded his head and made his way to the kitchen while John shot Bobby a grateful gaze.

"You should get some rest." Bobby commented, still not sure why he cared so much about this family's wellbeing. Perhaps because John had lost his wife much like Bobby had lost Karen? Maybe it was because he had a young family he was struggling to raise and protect? Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to go out of his way to help this man he had only met a few times.

"Not until the fever breaks." John replied.

"You want to tell me what happened?"

"Witch," John whispered, unwilling to have certain little ears pick up on this conversation. Dean was still unaware of what his father did for a willing—something which wouldn't last for long, which grieved Bobby. "Hex bag in the room. Dean found it."

"You got rid of it—?"

"Course," John interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're just dealing with the aftereffects of whatever spell she put on Sam."

And then Bobby did something he never did. He crossed to John and placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said,

"Stay for as long as you need to."

Sam got better overnight and by the next day, the fever had broken and he was up and about. Dean was relieved and had been talking to his baby brother nonstop while John finally got some sleep. Bobby just enjoyed it. He had forgotten how silent it was in his house and having people run around made him realize how much he had given up after Karen died. He had become a hunter, but he had shunned society and everything it brought. He became a homebody, answering phones and occasionally doing hunts. Having John and the boys here . . . well, it gave him something positive to focus on.

When John finally piled the boys back into the Impala, nearly a week after he had arrived, Bobby had to admit that he was a bit saddened by the fact that they were leaving. It had been nice having people in the house. It reminded him of why he hunted—to keep people like this safe.

"Say goodbye to uncle Bobby, Sammy." Dean whispered and Sam waved enthusiastically.

"Bye, Uncle Bobby!" Sam shouted and John smirked. Bobby couldn't keep the shock off his face. Uncle? He was an uncle? He glanced at John who nodded in silent acknowledgement. A grin tugged at Bobby's face.

"Bye boys." Bobby told them.

He watched them drive away, pleased to find that his heart hadn't hardened as much as he had believed.

Author's Note: This was the hardest chapter for me to write and it turned out more Bobby-centric than I had intended, but I liked how it came out. So, new chapters are coming soon! Please review!