A few minutes later, we're all situated around the kitchen table with beers, and Bobby's holding the baby and smiling down at her. Despite being such a gruff-looking guy, he's such a softie. I wonder why he never had kids of his own.

"You'd better start talkin'," he says, glancing up at us. "Last thing I heard, Eva went off on her own 'cause she couldn't stand Sam after hell and you hadn't heard from her since."

I clear my throat and start explaining everything that happened, Dean occasionally jumping in to add a detail or two. The story that I stumbled across while looking for a hunt. Calling Sam and meeting up with him and Dean again. Using a tracking spell to find the baby, and then locating the house where she was, saving her and then getting out of town. Cas coming back and telling us about the seals being broken again.

Up to where we are now, sitting around the table and drinking beer.

"It seems like you have quite a problem on your hands. So where do I come into all this?" Bobby asks us.

"Um," I say. "Well, we were hoping you could take care of the kid."

"What?" he says incredulously. "You think you can just prance in here and drop off a child and I'll take care of it for you?"

As if on cue, the baby starts crying again.

"Bobby, please," Dean pleads. "You know this life isn't any way for a kid to grow up."

Bobby's shushing her and rocking her gently, but he glances up at Dean. "I'll think about it," he tells us. Going off the way she's already starting to quiet down, it's pretty clear he'd be a better parent than any of us, so I'm seriously hoping he'll agree.

"There's an old crib in the attic, if you want to get that set up somewhere," he says, looking sternly at the three of us.

When no one else volunteers to get the crib, I sigh and stand up. "I guess I'll take care of it."

I head upstairs and find the dusty crib all disassembled in a box in the corner of the attic. Maybe Bobby did have kids after all. Or maybe it's just from taking care of other people's kids. I know he at least had some small part in raising Sam and Dean.

I carry down the box and stand in the hallway for a moment, wondering where to set it up. When we visit, the three of us usually sleep on the floor or the couch in the library, and I'm pretty sure there's a guest bedroom somewhere, but I haven't been here often enough to have seen most of the upstairs rooms.

I decide to ask Bobby. I drop the box at the top of the stairs and start to head down.

"Sam, you're being awfully immature about this," I hear Bobby say from the kitchen when I'm about halfway down the stairs. I tiptoe down the rest of the stairs silently in an effort to eavesdrop.

"She made it pretty obvious that she didn't want anything to do with me, before, and then when we were finally starting to patch things up she left," Sam says as I quietly tiptoe down the hall to stand just outside the kitchen. "I think it's pretty clear that she doesn't care about me that much."

Ouch. I feel a twinge of pain that he believes something so untrue.

"Maybe she just needed some time away from you," Bobby says, a hint of anger in his voice. "You of all people should know the scars that hell leaves."

"Yeah, but—"

"Have you even asked her about it?"

"No, but—"

"Then grow a goddamn pair and talk to her!"

There's a few moments of tense silence and I let out my breath that I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

I must've made too much noise, because Bobby says, "Eva?"

Dammit.

I take a deep breath and walking around the corner, trying to put an expression on my face that would show I didn't hear anything. "Uh, yeah. I got the crib, but I left it at the top of the stairs because I don't know where to set it up." I glance around. It's just Bobby and Sam in here. "Where's Dean?"

"Bringing stuff in from the car," Sam says flatly, not looking at me.

"I can take care of that crib," Bobby cuts in before I can reply. "I'll set it up in the spare bedroom."

He stands up, the baby still in his arms, and starts to head out the door to go upstairs. He pauses for a moment in the doorway to shoot Sam a meaningful look before he goes.

It's just me and Sam, both of us silent and avoiding looking at each other while we listen to Bobby's footsteps fade away as he goes down the hall.

When we can't hear them anymore, Sam asks, "How much did you hear?" He's still keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

I swallow. "Enough." I bite my lip. "So? Are you gonna grow a pair and talk to me?" I ask him quietly.

He sighs and looks up at me. "Was any of it true? What I said?"

"No, Sam, of course not." I go and sit down across the table from him. I stare at the table fixedly, not ready to meet his eyes, but I can tell he's watching me. "I… I was scared of you, because of what happened in hell, and I was frustrated, because… I did care about you, but I couldn't, not when I was on edge all the time, and… that was so exhausting, I had to get away, just for a little while…" I let out a huff of frustration in not being able to get my words out the way I want to. "I really missed you, Sam," I say, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

He's still just watching me, but his expression has softened. He believes me, at least.

After a few seconds, he gets up and walks around the table to sit in the chair next to me. He takes my hand in his. "I missed you too," he says softly, looking down at our hands, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I whisper.

He looks up and meets my eyes and I give him a wavering smile.

Just then, the back door slams and Dean says, "Hey guys, I finished bringing in the—" His voice fades as he walks around the corner into the kitchen. "Uh, sorry," he says before backing out slowly.

Too late, the moment's ruined anyway. At least we had a chance to sort things out a little bit, if not completely.

Sam gives my hand a quick squeeze before letting it go and standing up. "I guess we should go help Bobby or something, huh?" he says.

I nod.

"I guess so."