The woman, Laura, stood waiting patiently at the door, lifting her eyebrow as though wondering if the man standing in front of her was going to let her in or not. She was not surprised by this kind of reaction: She had encountered worse in her line of work, especially from the ones who had something to hide, or to feel guilty about. From her limited perspective, and the few seconds she had known Caleb, she did not have the feeling he was hiding something. Maybe just an overprotective type that worried what her questions would unearth. Craning her head to look at the little boy that was standing stoic next to Caleb Rivers, she tried to greet him with a smile, but it was clear the boy was having none of it.

Little boys like that, was the entire reason why she had gotten into the line of work she had gotten into. From handling simple cases that needed only a short investigation, to the longer ones that often left emotional scars on both her and the children she was entrusted with, she kept herself going with the truth that she was doing it for the children. The children she met, was the entire reason why she had the job that she did. More than probably, she would be happier working in pediatrics or something of the like, but she could not shake that feeling that she had to do this job to protect the kids.

It was always about the kids. Doing a mental check of the boy, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him on the outside. It was what was on the inside that raised her attention. He seemed guarded in a way that most five-year-old's never were. Besides that, he kept a close eye on the man standing in front of him. However, his attention was also on the baby monitor that was standing on an end table. When she listened, she could hear the sounds of a baby babbling to himself. Not able to contain the warm grin that spread across her face, she tried to maintain a professional distance.

Redirecting her attention to their guardian, she tried to get a sense of what she was dealing with, but could not. He was either very good at handling his emotions and pushing them down so that they could not be detected, or he was trying to hide something from her that he did not want her to have. Taking a slow breath, she mentally reminded herself not to judge a book by its cover. From what this man was showing her, he could simply be terrified of losing the two boys who were in his care. Deciding to go with that until she had a stronger case to prove otherwise, she tried to show him the benefit of the doubt.

The man that she was tasked with interviewing, however, showed no indication that he was willing to let her off the hook so easily. In some way, it seemed that he had been expecting her visit from the way he bowed his head in silent defeat, before raising it quickly to gauge her reaction to him. Standing aside, he wordlessly let her know to come in. When she stepped in, the boy immediately withdrew to make sure he was right with Caleb. Looking around the living room, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. On the contrary, it looked like a beautiful family home. It was neat, but with a typical disorganization that came with having small children.

Following him into the kitchen that was situated right off the living room, she glanced around the kitchen, before settling in the seat that Caleb showed to her. The little boy, who she guessed was Dean, hesitated for a brief moment, before settling into a seat next to Caleb. It was clear to her that Dean had already developed a thick attachment to the man who he was clinging to. Making a note of it in her notebook that she had with her, she sighed deeply as she reviewed her list of questions. These types of questions were hard, and made her second-guess her decision to have this career in the first place.

Caleb, it seemed was ready for whatever questions she had to throw at him. It was this type of confidence that made her suspicious, but she shoved those feelings down as much as she could. She had gotten into this career to help families, not tear them apart without need. It was that careful distinction that she had tried her hardest to govern herself by. It was not always easy, and her feelings could not always be counted on to be kept in check. Looking around the kitchen, she saw evidence of a recent meal that seemed to have been for the children.

Details like that mattered. More than most people realized. Glancing further, she saw children's artwork on the fridge. A messy series of circles and dots, indicated that the younger of the two boys had been the artist. The other picture, was neater and bore the classic sign of a child's favorite superhero.

"As you know, I'm Laura Wilden. I'm from Minnesota Child Protective Services."

Caleb nodded. "I know."

Laura smiled. "And you are Caleb Rivers, correct?"

Caleb sighed deeply. "Yes."

Laura reviewed her notes. The call (and the details that followed), had all come from an anonymous caller. It was hard to know, in her line of work, what was true, and what was a complete fabrication. "Are you the sole occupant of this home?"

"No. Uh, Jim Murphy? He lives here, too."

Laura nodded. "And what does he do? And what do you do?"

Caleb shifted in his seat, his eyes shifting every so often to Dean. "He's the pastor of our church here. I, uh, I own a shop." It was clear from his answer, that he did not want to elaborate on what kind of "shop" he owned. Making a note of that, she went down the list in front of her.

"So tell me: How do you know Sam and Dean?" Form the information she received from her supervisor, the men in the home, were friends of the recently deceased John Winchester.

"They belong to our friend, John Winchester. He's-"

"We know that he's deceased," Laura interjected. "A few weeks ago, right?"

"We haven't been able to establish a timeline for his death." For the first time, something other than his own locked down emotions, came out. For the first time, she could detect a fair amount of pain in his voice for his lost friend.

It was always easier to do her job when she was able to develop a tentative rapport with the person she was questioning. Some of the people she had the chance to talk with over the years, were easy to get along with. On the other hand, she had dealt with plenty of people who had the exact same type of attitude that Caleb was displaying to her. More often than not, their reactions could be owed to the fact they were nervous about having her in their home.

She could understand that.

"Did he often leave Sam and Dean with you and Jim Murphy?"

Caleb shrugged, starting to loosen up a little. "He did it when he had no other alternative."

"Which was how often?"

"I can't really tell you."

The next section she had to go over, was often the part she disliked doing the most. It was this section that dealt specifically with those who did not have a blood relative, and were instead relying on the kindness of their friends to take care of them. In the world they lived in, it was not uncommon for a friend to gain custody of the children. However, Laura knew that a judge would prefer to place the children with someone who was a blood relative of theirs. Glancing at Dean, she was met with a gaze that seemed much too adult for someone so young.

It made her wonder what he had experienced during his brief time on earth. From her records, she knew their mother had died in a fire that had been ruled a household accident, and then their father had gone off the grid, living in motel rooms for most of his time after his wife died. It seemed, from looking around, that this was the first stable home they had in quite awhile.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but do Sam and Dean have any relatives in the picture?"

Caleb looked taken aback at her question. "Who made this call to you guys?"

Laura smiled tightly. "I can't give that information to you. It's confidential."

"I see." Caleb stretched in his chair, before rubbing Dean's back in comforting, circular sweeps. "No, they don't."

"No one?"

"Their father's parents are deceased, and he never mentioned anything about Mary's family. I couldn't even tell you where they lived."

That was not unusual in and of itself-it just made her job a little more complicated than she would have liked. Writing down her notes before moving on to the next line of questioning, she could hear more fussing coming from the baby monitor. It sounded like Sam had gone from passive babbling, to full-on insistence that he be gotten up. Conscious of that delicate time-frame they were now operating on, she moved on.

"You and Jim Murphy would be the ones who would assume sole custody of Sam and Dean Winchester?"

Caleb nodded. "That's right. How would we go about that?"

"You would formally submit your request before the hearing. A hearing has been set for the 29th of this month. During that hearing, the judge is only interested in hearing what makes you suitable guardians. Nothing else. And usually, if a decision cannot be reached, the judge will just allow the boys to remain with you. Unless there's a good reason why not."

Caleb nodded slowly. "Do I need a lawyer?"

Laura nodded. "I would advise it. Not because you've done anything wrong, but for security."

"Uncle" Bobby's eccentric home in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, was as unusual a house as any normal visitor would ever see: Books on hunting lore stacked to the ceiling, multiple phone lines in the kitchen that ran a constant line of communication between he and any other person that needed his expert help. Caleb and Jim had brought Sam and Dean there after a visit from a nosy CPS worker. It boggled Bobby's mind, the kinds of things that were happening to Caleb and Jim.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, as he ambled over to Bobby, and perched himself on his worn couch. "What's this book?"

He innocently held out a thick volume that dealt with the supernatural world's most dangerous and feared creature, the hellhound. Capable of tearing a person to shreds without barely blinking.

"That," Bobby said, reaching for the book and putting it safely out of Dean's curious hands. "Is a very special book for grown ups."

"Why?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because there are some things a snot nosed little brat like yourself can't look at right now," Bobby said teasingly. "In time, though," he added, seeing Dean's little face fall in disappointment.

"Can I teach Sammy how to play hide and go seek?"

"I think that would be a great idea," Bobby agreed. "Just be careful, make sure he doesn't go near those stairs."

"Okay."

Having the boys playing quietly while he made return calls to contacts, all the while preparing dinner for them, was nice. He never entirely stopped worrying about them, but childproofing the house as much as possible, went a long ways in easing his anxiety about it.

"Sammy fell," Dean said, his little feet clattering across the wood flooring as he held Sam's tearful hand. "He tripped on the floor," he added, looking resentfully at Bobby, as though Bobby should have known about the floor and fixed it.

"Let me see," Bobby said, kneeling down in front of the one year old and checking his leg for injuries. "Well, Dean, it looks like he just scraped it. He's lucky."

A Dinosaur bandage later, and some juice, and Sam was happily eating his fries and burger that Bobby had cut up for him. Dean, of course, hadn't let go of his brother's injury and kept checking him anxiously, as though he was afraid Sam would suddenly disappear.

"Can you fix the floor tonight?" He inquired when dinner was over, and Bobby was preparing them for their evening baths.

"I'll do my best."

Bath time was the usual fun affair, as Sam made every opportunity to splash his way out of the tub. Bedtime was slower, more quieter as Bobby went about a familiar routine he had established with the boys before John had died, and read to them, before leaving one light on for their security, and turning the rest off.

"Goodnight," Dean slurred, already half asleep, as he rolled over on his side, clutching his own pillow tightly to his chest.

"Goodnight, idjit," Bobby replied, with a rare smile on his face, before softly shutting the door behind him.

It had been a few days since Jim and Caleb had dropped the boys off, and needless to say, those two boys had exhausted Bobby. He was used to working at all hours of the night to satisfy the demands and needs of the people he helped, but being responsible for the lives of two toddlers, was another thing.

Of course Caleb and Jim had called twice, maybe three times a day to check in on the boys, and Bobby couldn't blame them. Losing John had been a shock to all of them, and none of them were eager to repeat the experience over again.

"Hello?" He grumbled into the phone when it rang off the hook, assuming of course that it was one of the guys checking in again. He was beginning to wonder if they trusted him with the boys.

"Bobby?"

"Rufus?" He adjusted the phone deeper into the crook of his shoulder. He and Rufus Turner had been friends long before he knew John, Caleb or Jim. The two hadn't talked in years, not since an accident where someone Rufus had loved, had died.

"You told me to keep you posted on things, and call if I needed help. I don't need help, per se, but I found something that might interest you."

"And what's that?"

He wasn't in the mood to hear about his crazy ramblings and theories. He was thrilled to hear from his friend, but not at the cost of his sanity and whatever sleep he could be enjoying.

"Some crazy ! #$%^&* storms up here, Bobby, electrical shortages, some fires in family style homes."

Bobby felt his blood run cold, and not from the faulty furnace that he needed to fix. "Say that again."

"I recognized the signs, and I remembered hearing that John Winchester had been killed a few weeks ago. I put two and two together-"

"Congratulations, you learned math," Bobby murmured dryly. "Now get to the part that was so important you had to call me at ten at night."

"I heard about some cops who were mass-possessed." Rufus paused, and Bobby swore it was for dramatics sake. "In the same area John died in."