Grief through the eyes of a child was a strangely fascinating, but tragic thing to bear witness to. Some asked questions, that was normal for a curious, naturally eager child, some were silent, asking little, but observing and absorbing everything that went on around them. In part, that was due to their complete inability to voice what was going on in their still-developing minds. In another way, some were simply too traumatized to say anything. A prison of their own minds as they processed their emotions, the emotions of the ones in charge of their care, and the world around them.

Jim Murphy had seen both sides to the complicated way children endured and processed through grief. It was never easy to assist families in counseling their children, and help them pick up the fractured pieces of their lives. Try as he might to reach the little ones he had been entrusted to, it was often hard to guess what they were thinking. Especially when they were withdrawn, content to play with the toys in his office, and distract themselves from the very real pain they were going through. A pain that was so hard for the adults to crack through.

The pastor assumed (because he had dealt with these kinds of tragedies before), that he would be able to offer a unique perspective to what Sam and Dean were going through. Or more accurately, Dean. The child was completely devastated by the death of his father, but he would never voice it to the people around him. The kind of devastation he was dealing with, was not invisible to the guys, and Jim's heart ached for the child as he witnessed him trying his hardest to tighten the shield around his heart. That was the only way he figured he would survive, and Jim hated it for him. Observing Dean interact (mainly) with Sam and Caleb, Jim recognized the kind of way Dean was allowing his grief to push through.

Dean was one of the quiet ones. The kind of child who never outwardly expressed what was happening in his heart, but instead let it all play out behind the scenes. His heart, Jim figured, must have been a battle ground that was quickly losing the war. He hardly ever spoke, except to inquire about Sam's care, and when the grown-ups talked directly to him. Caleb was the only one who seemed able to push Dean out of the shell he had concocted around himself. Dean's steely composure was not often tested, but sometimes, Jim could see just a sliver of emotion cross his face when he thought no one was watching.

It was heartbreaking to watch a normally outgoing kid, retreat further back into the protective shell he had placed around himself when his mother first died. It was hard to watch him regress backwards.

"When…is…daddy coming back?" Dean asked, one afternoon. It had been a few weeks since John had been found, and while Dean had been making slow improvements in his grief process, it was still a daily struggle for the five-year-old. He and Jim had been playing a game with Sam, a messy one that ended up requiring the cleanup assistance of Sam's big brother.

Jim stopped mid-scoop, the markers swaying unstably in his hand, begging to be let down. Jim had prepared himself to answer a myriad of questions from Dean about the death of his father, but he somehow never thought to prepare himself for this type of question. Sighing softly, he put the markers back in their box, and invited Dean to sit on his lap.

"Dean, do you remember the talk Caleb had with you about your Dad?"

Dean nodded. "Yes…but he's coming back." His voice suddenly grew quiet, almost a whisper. "He always comes back." In Dean's mind, that statement made perfect sense, because his father had never let him down before. "Not like Mommy. Mommy had to go to Heaven…but not Daddy."

Jim nodded slowly, craning his head over Dean's to capture his reluctant gaze. "Dean, you know that your Dad never ever wanted to leave you, right?"

Dean nodded, this time with more vigor. "So when is he coming back?" Dean suddenly seemed to have a thought cross his mind. "I can tell him I took care of Sammy."

Looking over his shoulder when he heard another set of shoes, he caught Caleb's gaze in his. He had no idea how long the hunter had been standing there, but judging from the pained look on Caleb's face, he had been standing there long enough to know the gist of the conversation. Beckoning him over, hoping that the bond between Caleb and Dean would aid him in this conversation, he watched as Dean's face lit up when he saw who was getting down beside him. It seemed that Dean was only truly comfortable with him and Caleb.

Switching Dean over to Caleb's lap, Dean went more than willingly. Snuggling up with the hunter, Dean absently played with Caleb's thick watch, and tried to understand what the adults were saying to him. Jim could see the wheels spinning in his brain, trying to understand why they were talking to him like they were.

"What did your Dad say to you when your Mom died?" Caleb asked, gently lacing his fingers through Dean's hair. It was touching to see the tenderness that existed between the two of them, and Jim was extremely grateful that he had someone like Caleb, who Dean adored, to help him.

Dean scrunched up his nose, remembering that conversation that seemed so distant, but also strangely close. There wasn't a lot he could recall from that night. Just the uncomfortable heat, and his brother being pushed into his arms by his scared father. "He said a monster got Mommy. A scary one."

Caleb nodded, still threading his fingers through Dean's hair. "What if I told you that something scary…got your Dad, too?" He knew he was pushing a fine line between what was acceptable to say to a child, but he also knew that Dean was unlike most five-year-olds, and was capable of understanding more.

"But then…I would not have a Mommy…or a Daddy." It seemed inconceivable to the child that he would not have any parent in the world to watch out for him. He knew kids sometimes lost their mother or their father, but he had never heard of someone losing both their parents.

Jim was silent, searching his brain for a way to respond to that kind of statement. "But you have us, Dean. You have me, Caleb, and Bobby. You know that we love you with all our hearts, right?"

Dean nodded, his hand traveling down to Caleb's, needing the physical comfort more than anything at the moment. He had no idea why his heart was pounding the way it was, or why his head was bursting with a silent scream that he begged to stop. All that he knew was that he could feel the tears pressing on his eyes, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted to be brave, strong like his father.

"I know," he whispered, not able to stop a single tear that traversed down his cheek, and slid into his mouth.

"You'll never be alone, bud," Caleb assured him. "You have us. Forever." If there was one thing he could promise the child, it would have to be that he would always have a family to keep him safe and to love him. His new family would not be blood related, but that mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

Dean's eyes widened, seemingly able to momentarily shake off his pain. "I do?"

"What did you think?" Jim teased, relishing the light-hearted moment that had suddenly taken form. "Did you think we would ever let your brother and you out of our sight?"

"Get real," Caleb finished.

Dean was quiet for several minutes as he processed the plethora of information he had just received. For many children, it would be too much, but for his age, Dean had seen way much more than he should have. As it was, Jim could see a slow but also marked change in Dean's demeanor after their impromptu talk. He had no clue if Dean understood the finality of what happened to his father, but he also knew that Dean was in a much better headspace than he had been before.

Getting up once Dean had bounced off to the kitchen with Caleb trailing behind him, Jim picked up a thoroughly confused Sam, and finished putting the toys away. Sam was happy, as was his usual state, and only seemed to have eyes for his big brother. Situating him in his booster seat at the table, Jim watched Caleb make hotdogs and mac 'n cheese for the eager boys. If there was one thing that was not lacking, it was Dean's healthy appetite for anything edible. Trying to take his mind off anything that could wait until later, Jim watched Dean share some of his food with Sam, who seemed to take no interest in his own meal, even though it was the exact same thing.

Truthfully, Jim had no idea how they were going to go protecting Sam and Dean. He knew he could raise them with Caleb and Bobby's help, but there was also the added stress of knowing what most normal people did not. No matter where they were, the supernatural would follow. Jim knew that from dear experience, when he briefly tried to leave the life. There was no escaping something like that, and he wondered how they would raise two boys in the life.

Would they stay? Would they go on the road like most hunters did? And how would they even go about getting custody of them? There was only so much luck they could run on before it ran out. Jim knew that the day would come when someone in a position of power, would wonder about Sam and Dean, and where their father, John Winchester was.

Jim's heart swelled every time he noticed a spark of the old Dean start to return, and that was happening more often than not. It had only been a few days since his and Caleb's talk with Dean, and he was starting to have a vague hope that Dean would not be trapped in a perpetual depression for the rest of his life. He had moments where he retreated back, became distant again, but Jim was pleased to see that Dean was starting to take an interest in things again. Especially when it came to renovating a guest bedroom that would be his and Sam's room.

Jim had debated whether or not to give Sam and Dean their own room, and had come to the logical conclusion that Dean would not want to be separated from his brother for any reason. Especially when they were both still getting used to their new normal. No longer were they being moved from one motel room to the next, but they actually had a permanent residence to call home. With that thrilling thought taking root in his mind, Dean was more than happy to assist Caleb with the decorating.

"Batman is the best," Dean stated one afternoon, as he walked into the freshly painted bedroom, wrinkling his nose in distaste of the smell, as he looked up at Caleb as he put together a floating bookshelf on the wall.

"Indeed he is," Caleb agreed. "Not like those puny other superheroes."

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Batman would kick the other's butts!"

Caleb stifled a laugh as he put down his tools. "Are you excited to go see Uncle Bobby tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

It had been agreed that the boys would spend the weekend with Bobby since both Caleb and Jim had work and hunting commitments up on the plate at the same time.

"Are you going to play hide and seek with the cars?"

Caleb had more than a few concerns about the maze of beaten up cars Bobby had in his lot. Beside the obvious danger of the boys getting lost, there was also the possibility of them getting cut on something, and not to mention the infection that could spread. It amazed Caleb that he was already thinking like a parent would.

"Yeah. I have to teach Sammy."

"You do that."

Dean had been so depressed that it was nice seeing an actual smile grace his face at the thought of going to Bobby's, and teaching his brother something new.

With a grin, Caleb fingered a small bit of blue paint and dabbed it on Dean's nose. "Now you look like Batman."

"I do," Dean smiled. "If I had a cape, I could be just like him."

Caleb shook his head in amusement. "You look pretty authentic to me."

"That's because you're supposed to say that," Dean reminded him.

Putting his tools back in their proper place, Caleb watched Dean carefully inspect them. He had taken an interest in putting things together after watching Caleb do the same thing for his room. Nodding his head when Dean silently asked if he could hold a hammer, Caleb showed him the correct way to hold it. The child's mind was like a sponge that was constantly taking in the information he was given. Now that he was beginning to recover a little from the trauma of losing John, his personality was starting to emerge.

Carefully handing Dean a nail to go along with the hammer, Caleb stood beside him and watched as he tentatively pounded the nail into the wall on Sam's side of the room. Sam's side had a crib, and plenty of toys that had been taken from the living room. Beyond that, he also had a fresh coat of paint, and a new oval rug with his favorite cartoon on it. Dean's side was similar, and also bore evidence of his favorite show. It was touching to see Dean take great pride in his room.

"You got it in good," Caleb said, assessing Dean's work.

"You think?" Dean stood back, critically evaluating whether that was true.

"Yes," Caleb said, smiling. "Don't you worry."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I just want Sammy to like it."

Caleb rubbed his back. "He will."

Snapping his head toward the door when he heard the doorbell ring from downstairs, he and Dean traded glances, before making their way down the hall, and down the stairs. They weren't expecting anyone, and Jim wasn't due back from work for another few hours. Even though he could guess this was nothing to do with the supernatural, Caleb could still feel the tension in his body as he went to the door.

Taking a deep breath, he opened it. A young woman stood waiting for him.

"Are you Caleb Rivers?"

Caleb nodded slowly. "Yes…and who are you?"

"I'm Laura, I'm from Minnesota Child Protective Services. We have some questions."

Uh-oh