June 4, 1995

Dean woke to the puzzling smell of bacon frying.

He blinked blearily, then shot upright as the memories of the previous day came back with a shock.

Demons had killed his father.

Today would be the first whole day without his dad. Every day when Dean woke up from now until forever, his father would be dead. He felt oddly detached from the idea. He even muttered the words aloud to see if it made them feel more real.

Dad was dead.

He and Sam were orphans now. The melody of "It's a Hard Knock Life" threaded mockingly through his mind. He made a face. How did he even know that song?

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts, he got out of bed and shuffled downstairs to find Sam and Bobby already in the kitchen. The bacon smell was Bobby's doing, though Dean was sure they hadn't had any in the house. Sam sat with his elbows on the table and his chin propped on his hands. The lost look on his face made him seem even younger than he was.

It made Dean's stomach twist. His only job in the world was to take care of Sam, and there wasn't a single thing he could do to make any of this better.

Bobby looked up from his efforts at the stove. "Have a seat. Food'll be up in a few."

"Thanks, Bobby, but I'm not really hungry," Dean answered, though he did sit in the chair next to Sam.

"Well, tough, boy. Only one rule today – when I put food in front of you, you eat. Got it?"

Bobby glowered over at him until Dean nodded. In an odd way, it made him feel a little better seeing Bobby act his usual grumpy self. He hated the way the police and paramedics had looked at him yesterday with pity in their eyes. How they'd talked to him in hushed voices like he'd break if they handled him too roughly.

When Bobby slid a plate of eggs and bacon under his nose a few minutes later, Dean picked at it obediently, managing to finish a little more than half. Apparently that was good enough, because Bobby didn't stop him when he left the table to head back upstairs.

Dean spent the rest of the day in a numb sort of haze, growing more grateful every hour for Bobby's presence as he handled arrangements and phone calls and visitors at the door bringing tuna casseroles. Dean wondered who all these people were. Co-workers from the garage? Neighbors? It wasn't like Dad had a flourishing social network of friends. Maybe it was just morbid looky-loos rubbernecking the latest area demon attack. Creeps.

That afternoon, the cleaners came. Dean watched from his bedroom window as the workers in full-body protective suits went back and forth between their van and the garage. It was odd to think that they were out there cleaning up part of a person.

Red.

Dean flinched and turned from the window, going downstairs to avoid thinking about the cleaners and what they were doing. Sam was on the living room couch, intensely focused on some book. Bobby was just getting off the phone with someone from the funeral home.

"Thank you. We'll be in touch," Bobby said, just before hanging up. He caught Dean's eye and beckoned him with a tip of his head. "Can I talk to you boys for a minute?"

The three of them settled around the kitchen table, and Dean felt a twinge of nerves which was the first thing he'd actually felt all day. It didn't help that Bobby looked as uncomfortable as Dean had ever seen him, adjusting his ball cap and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"So, I was thinking..." he trailed off, but then blurted out, "What do you boys think about coming up to Sioux Falls to live with me?"

Dean blinked at Bobby in surprise, wondering if he'd heard him right.

"Now, I know you have friends here, and my place ain't exactly the fanciest digs, but you'll need to live somewhere. You boys ain't had the easiest time of things, I know, and I wish I'd been able to do more for you before this. But if I can help you out now, well, then I will. If you want, that is," Bobby finished uncertainly.

"Really?" Sam asked. The kid had his puppy eyes on full blast, and it looked like not even Bobby was immune. "You'd do that?"

"'Course, Sam," Bobby mumbled. "Family's more than blood."

After an awkward moment, he slapped his hands down on his knees and stood. "Well, you boys think on it a day or two, and let me know what you decide. Meantime, lets eat up some of that damn casserole before it all goes bad."

All through dinner, Dean still hadn't said a word – he just chewed his food thoughtfully. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen once the funeral and everything were over with, but Bobby's offer to take them in surprised him. Sure, they'd known him their whole lives, and Dean considered him family, but this was a huge deal.

Bobby'd never had kids of his own. He'd had a wife, but she'd died before Dean was even born, and he'd never remarried. The Winchesters had stayed with him off and on over the years when Dad was between jobs or on another paranoid search for someplace angel-proof to move to. When Dean really thought about it, Bobby had been a better father to him and Sam than their dad ever had. Guilt stabbed at him for even thinking it, but he knew it was true.

He met Sam's eyes across the table and raised his eyebrows in question. Sam frowned, but when Dean tipped his head Bobby's way, Sam nodded in understanding before nodding again in answer to the question.

"Um, Bobby?" Dean cleared his throat. "I don't think me and Sam need a couple days to think about it. Sioux Falls sounds good to us."

Bobby looked to Sam who agreed readily. Then he nodded once and said, "Okay, then," before digging back into his casserole.

They didn't discuss it any more than that, but Dean didn't need details. A tiny bit of the pressure on his chest lifted just knowing that he didn't have to worry about what would happen to him and Sam going forward. They would be okay.