So, I had the niggling idea to do this. I don't know why. Just kept bothering me until I wrote it, there's another chapter to do so you'll see it soonish, been busy with packing up to move and school and what not. I believe this is called a crack fic. I could be wrong. New to the Supernatural realm of fic writing. But if I'm right then it's pure unadulterated crack.

All mistakes are my own since I'm just that lazy. And I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were you'd never see me again.

Dean Winchester wasn't one to let a little three and a half foot tall girl order him around, a little girl who hadn't said one word since he and Sam had entered Bobby's living room. But here she was, all curly blonde hair and big brown eyes, looking up at him with this pathetic little look he couldn't deny. It resembled the look Sam had perfected on Dean when they had been growing up, the same look Dean had hardened himself against. But this little girl didn't deserve that, she deserved whatever Dean could do for her to make her happy.

Bobby had said she had recently lost her mother, not in a fire or anything like the Winchesters had, but in a plain car accident. Her father was a hunter who was currently off on a group hunt and he'd dropped her off with Bobby much like John had dropped Sam and Dean off. They hadn't planned on coming here at all, but on the last hunt Dean had managed to tear his ACL in his knee and after the surgery to fix it Sam had stated they were staying at Bobby's the alloted time it took for Dean to heal.

Naturally Dean was against it, he could still hold the shotgun and shoot shit if he needed to. Would probably fall flat on his ass but he could still do it. Could also manage an awkward shuffle, hop wobble walk without his crutches at the moment but he wouldn't be able to walk right for another couple weeks, and even then he would have to keep the stupid brace on for another month or so. And then the therapy, and the limp would persist for another few months. He just hopped Sam didn't plan on staying that long or Dean would find himself going a little stir crazy.

They hadn't expected Bobby to be babysitting though and had offered to hole up somewhere else, but naturally Bobby had called them idjits and demanded they stay, could help look after the little girl. A little girl, who much like Dean had after he'd lost his own mother, had shut herself off from the world of talking. And in some unspoken agreement Bobby and Sam had left him to look after her, Sam muttering something about Dean having a way with kids. He would disagree, but whatever. He didn't mind kids, liked kids, had a connection with them that he didn't really understand. Maybe because he had raised Sam, or maybe because he had his own little kid trapped inside begging to be let out sometimes.

"So, Annabelle, anything in particular that you like to do?" Dean asked, he was sitting on the couch watching as she petted her worn out teddy bear, one eye was missing from it and she seemed more than a little distressed about that.

"I don't know if you remember, but Bobby introduced me as Dean. That's my little brother Sam in the other room getting his geek on." Sam was researching something or other, claiming to help Bobby with one of the hunts that was going on out there without them. And that's how they would spend their time here. Sam helping Bobby with the research, Dean helping Bobby fix the cars that came in to the yard needing fixed.

Annabelle turned her big brown eyes on him once more and held out her teddy bear. He gently took it from her, ran his hand over the spot where the missing eye would have been and said, "Looks like Teddy had a little tragedy happen." A solemn nod was his answer.

"You wouldn't happen to know where his eye is would you? I can fix it for you." Her eyes widened a little in hope. Her teddy could be whole again and this stranger could fix it for her. Dean had fixed many stuffed animals in his time, Sam when he had been younger had had a stuffed dog that he had been particularly fond of. It was the only stuffed animal he hadn't managed to lose or leave behind in the various motels. Even at the age of seven Dean was pretty proficient with a needle and thread, already having had to stitch up his Dead on occasion. So he'd performed many 'surgeries' on the stuffed dog in those four years that Sam had had him. Fixed holes, missing eyes, a tail that had been ripped off. He practiced his stitches mostly those times, but had fixed the damn thing nonetheless.

"Hey Bobby, you got any needle and thread?"

"Of course I do you idjit, who do you think you're staying with?" Dean gave him a grin and waited until Bobby returned with the suturing needle and thread. Annabelle had since then relinquished her hold on the missing eyeball that she'd somehow managed to keep in her pocket without losing. Upon inspection Dean was happy to note that the little nub that held it onto the bear hadn't broken off, it had simply been a broken thread that had caused Teddy to lose his precious eye.

"Don't worry Anna, I'll get your Teddy fixed up just fine." Dean muttered getting to work. He didn't notice Sam come in and sit himself on the recliner across from his brother, didn't notice the subtle way Bobby took a picture.

Bent over the worn out teddy bear with a suturing needle and thread in his hand, tongue poking between his lips as he concentrated, Annabelle standing off to the side, a thumb stuck in her mouth watching with wide eyes. He supposed it would have made a funny picture, probably would have taken one had it been Sam. Didn't mean he was pleased about it. Nor would he ever admit that he kept that polaroid in his wallet for years to come.

"So Dr. Dean was the surgery a success?" Dean glared at Sam, looked the teddy bear over for any holes that may need stitching up then nodded the affirmative.

"Yes, a major success," he handed the bear to Annabelle and continued, "No worries Anna, teddy has full vision now in both his eyes." The little five year old beamed at him and Dean decided then and there it was totally worth the teasing and embarrassment to come.

She hugged her bear to her and hopped up on the couch next to Dean, deciding then in her little child mind that he was someone to trust and glue herself to for the remainder of her stay.

A couple hours alter Bobby declared it nap-time for Annabelle and told Dean to get started on dinner. Dean had always been the chef of the family, learning when he was fifteen from random cookbooks found in libraries so he'd be able to properly feed his brother. Had turned out to be better than the crap they'd gotten from diners and fast food joints. And he hadn't turned out to be half bad at cooking either, there had been something soothing about it all that made the end of the day not so bad.

It was one reason Bobby liked having them around, Dean cooked and helped with the cars, Sam researched and straightened up a little every now and then. It brought life to the house, warmth that Bobby had been missing since his wife had died, but always came around when the brothers were there to keep him company.

"Dude, what are you making?"

"Food Sammy. What else would I be making?" Sam huffed out a sigh, sat down at the table by the window and watched his brother stir whatever was in the pot in front of him.

"Don't worry Sam, it will be edible."

"I don't doubt it Dean. You wouldn't make something you wouldn't be able to eat." His brother nodded, smiling to himself and handed Sam a beer.

"I kind of feel bad for her." Dean muttered a minute later.

"Who?"

"Annabelle. Losing her mom, being left here. We should know it's not easy." Sam nodded, he didn't remember their mother but he knew what it was like growing up without one, remembered being dropped off here with Bobby and other times with Pastor Jim. Knew what it was like to wonder what was going on, if their dad would come back at all.

"Yeah, it sucks."

Whatever else was going to be said was cut off by the thundering of little feet on the stairs and seconds after that the little blonde missile collided with Dean's good leg.

"Uh...hi?" Sam bit his lip to keep the smile and laugh inside, knowing Dean would either throw something at him or hit him next time he passed by. Annabelle smiled shyly up at Dean, shoved her thumb into her mouth and watched on as Bobby raced into the kitchen after her, sighing when he spotted where she'd gone.

"Looks like you've got a fan boy." Dean merely grunted and managed to work his way towards the sink with Annabelle still attached. He must have a sign on his forehead that announced to the world that he could be a kids best friend if they never left him alone. Or looked up at him with those damn brown eyes.

After dinner and after several hours on the couch with Sam reading on one side of him and Anna coloring on the other, Dean was ready for bed. His painkillers were finally kicking in and he was well on his way to stoned. Which was perfectly okay with him. Several minutes after that he was vaguely aware of a steady weight pressing against his right arm but he was far to invested in tracing that crack in the ceiling.

"Okay, I think it's bedtime for you two." Dean cast a glance at Sam who was looking at him with that know-it-all smile of his.

"Huh?"

"Bedtime."

"Sure." Sam grinned again and with the help of Bobby got Dean and Annabelle upstairs. Sam paused with Dean in the doorway into the room Annabelle was using and watched as the little girl waved at Dean.

"Night Anna." Dean murmured, but that wasn't what she wanted.

"She wants a story." Bobby whispered joining the brothers in the doorway.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't do stories." A pout.

"I'm not even coherent!" That lower lip stuck out further, brown eyes widened.

"Bobby can tell you one, I'm sure he's been doing it for the last couple of nights." A shake of the head and she gestured for Dean to come over.

"She wants you to do it son. Your own fault for charming her."

"Man, Bobby. I ain't no babysitter! And I'm not a freakin' storyteller! Plus I'm high." He gave the two men a goofy grin as if to prove his point, they both just stared at him with a look that said he was shit out of luck. He turned to look at Annabelle and she was still carrying on with the puppy dog look, even had the lower lip trembling. Kid knew how to work it that was for sure.

"Fine." He shook himself free from Sam and collapsed on the other side of the queen sized bed, getting himself situated against the headboard. Sam shot him a grin and closed the door before disappearing down the hallway to the room he and Dean usually shared.

"Okay then. A story." God his brain was no where near being able to think of a story right now. What was he supposed to tell her? The stories he'd usually told Sam were various stories made up about the monsters their dad usually hunted. Probably not something a little girl wanted to hear, didn't they like the whole princess and knight thing?

He felt that weight settle against his side again and he looked down to see Annabelle curled up against him, head resting on his chest as she looked up at him expectantly. He was already fighting his eyelids to stay up, fighting that nod of his head to fall back against the headboard to fall asleep. But there was that adorable little girl expecting him to come up with a story for her.

"Uh...okay. Once upon a time there was a uh...princess? And she uh...was uh..." He paused and looked down, thankfully Annabelle had been tired too and she was already fighting her own eyelid drooping.

"The princess was...er, in need of supplies. So one day she went to the market and uh...well she, hell I don't know." He looked down again expecting those eyes to be on him, accusing him of being such a crappy storyteller, but she was out, her eyes closed and her breathing deep and even.

"Thank God." He let his own head thunk back finally and closed his eyes, not caring about the crap he would catch in the morning from Sam. He was comfortable and warm.

That was all that mattered.