Hey guys. Another random idea that popped into my head which I thought I would share. Dean is 4, Sammy is a baby. This is not a flattering portrayal of John! Anyway, Let's just pretend that John already knew Bobby before he came a hunter and that they were old family friends…just for the sake of this. This is a two-shot.

I really hope you enjoy the story; I am quite pleased with it :)

"C'mon Ace, we need to go. Get your stuff, we're leaving." John was halfway down the motel driveway with baby Sam in one arm, when Dean finally managed to cram the last of Sammy's clothing in a suitcase. He had also packed all of Sammy's toys, blankets, baby food and a rattle, forsaking his own skaeletrix kit, toy car collection and his action man. There wasn't enough room in the single suitcase that John had shoved at them, their kind next door neighbour had packed the case when they left home after the fire, and had fitted everything in with ease, but Dean couldn't work out how. He wasn't going to leave behind Sammy's stuff and the only alternative was leaving his own. With slumped shoulders Dean followed his Dad's previous orders to "pack up, NOW!"

Dean had flinched at the harsh order but obeyed immediately, and now he was dragging the suitcase along the motel landing, it was far too heavy for a four year old to carry but Dean didn't want to upset his father so began to drag it along as best as he could, scraping the wooden floor as he could not lift the case. It was worth it to make his Daddy happy though. Daddy had been upset enough recently, shouting at Dean or drinking too much, or sitting staring at the wall with his head in his hands, or doing all three at once.

At first this had terrified Dean, he had silently begged for his mummy to walk through the door and calm John down, to massage his shoulders and kiss his cheek like she always used to. But she didn't. Dean hadn't seen her since the fire, since he had heard her last scream and carried his baby brother out of the house. Ever since, he had spent his hours either looking after his baby brother, or trying to work out why she wasn't coming back. He had climbed into his motel bed after washing himself like a big boy, and cleaning Sam so that his Mum would be proud of him, but she still didn't come and tuck him in. Dean just couldn't work out what he was doing wrong. Why did Mummy hate him all of a sudden?

Dean blinked back the tears in his eyes and began to make his way carefully down the motel stairs, slipping on one of the last steps and tumbling down to the floor. Dean blinked blearily at the bottom, his head was sore and there was something heavy on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Then he felt the searing pain coursing through his ankle, so bad that he began to scream in agony, thrashing in an attempt to make the pain stop.

A blonde hotel cleaner saw the child fall and heard his cries of pain and grabbed the suitcase off him, watching as Dean gasped for air and began to cry even harder.

"Are you alright sweetheart? Does anywhere hurt? It's alright." Dean blinked blearily up at the blonde woman and his stomach did a back flip. Mummy! He stopped screaming for a moment and was just about to pull the woman into a tight hug when he heard his father.

"Get away from him, RIGHT NOW!" John stormed forwards and hauled Dean up by the wrist, causing Dean to gasp in pain. He had badly bruised his arm when he fell, and when John let go of him so Dean could stand on his own, but Dean discovered this was not an option as he crumbled to the floor again.

"Now excuse me! Your son just fell down the stairs and was being suffocated by a suitcase! Where were you? How dare you shout at me for helping him! Fancy letting a child carry that! Can't you see that he is hurt?" Dean shook his head miserably and managed to stand on one leg, leaning against the wall and holding his right one in the air to avoid making the pain any worse. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now and he couldn't help but sniffle. John looked angry every time Dean had cried for his Mum recently, John had shouted at him to "SHUT UP," or not to "BE PATHETIC!" Dean knew he would get in trouble, which only made him cry harder. I want Mummy.

John growled at the woman, not being able to come up with a reasonable comeback, and scooped Dean and the suitcase up, dumping them both unceremoniously in the car. He knew he should be kinder to Dean, comfort him and check out his obviously painful ankle, but he didn't.

John wasn't quite sure what was wrong with himself, since Mary he just hadn't been able to show any affection towards the boys. Dean's crying merely irritated him more, and when Sam started to scream in his cot it just made John angrier and more determined to kill the son of a bitch who did this to his family. He would get revenge, no matter the price.

They drove in near silence to Bobby's, the eerie quietness broken only by the sobs which Dean was trying to muffle in his T-shirt, which was now soaked through with tears, snot and some blood, Dean now had a nosebleed to contend with from rubbing his runny nose so much. John looked over at Dean's slumped figure in the back seat and passed him some tissues, as tenderly as he could. Guilt was beginning to seep in now, and John didn't like it.

"Dad?"

"What?" Damn that came out harsher than I wanted it to.

"Nothing." Dean recoiled and bit back his complaint. He didn't want to make his Daddy angry.

"Sure?" No, my foot hurts real bad!

"I'm fine."

"Good. Anyway Buddy, how about I get you some M&Ms, peanut ones, your favourite."

It was a lousy attempt of making things up to his son, but it was a start. Dean nodded a little and was soon munching through the family-sized bag of candy in an attempt to take his mind off the searing pain, but it wasn't really working and his vision kept blurring, when he could see clearly it was as if his surroundings were spinning.

John hadn't eaten any yet and Sam was too small to eat the sweets, so by the time they reached Bobby's Dean was looking even worse than before, swaying on his good leg and a pale shade of green. The agony in his ankle was now so intense that it was making his stomach roll violently.

When Bobby opened the door Dean couldn't hold it in any more, vomiting miserably all over Bobby's shoes and doormat before he could even get out a hello.

"DEAN!" Dean flinched when John grabbed him by the hair and forced him to face his father's face, which was contorted with rage. For a moment Dean was sure that John was going to hit him, and Bobby clearly did to, as he interjected and pulled Dean away from his father quickly.

"Cool it John." The usually kind-faced hunter gave John a look full of venom, silently threatening to shoot the now-hunter's sorry ass if he laid a hand on his son, before turning his attention to a quivering Dean.

"S'alright kiddo. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up a bit." Bobby picked Dean up, ignoring the vomit and led the John into the kitchen, beckoning at the dining table before soaking a cloth and mopping Dean up, wiping away the tear tracks and leaving a very red, puffy faced Dean staring morosely at the floor, he still hadn't said a word and was quivering meekly.

Realising that Dean was in no fit state to move of his own accord, by the looks of things he was going into shock, Bobby picked both Dean up and tucked them into the spare bed, then returning to grab Sam and placing him in the cot that he had made up in case of a visit. Both boys slept through being put to bed, they were fast asleep in his arms before he even reached the spare bedroom. Then he quickly changed his shoes and trousers, gathering his thoughts. When he returned downstairs he grabbed a beer and downed half of it at once. He needed some Dutch courage for this.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at John? Treating your kid like that? He looks like shit…no worse that shit. I have seen corpses in a better condition, he is skin and bones. Their mother just died for god's sake, be reasonable. If you lay one hand on them I swear I will shoot you dead without a moment's hesitation. Those boys deserve to be treated better than that! What would Mary have thought if she saw you hurting Dean, or Sammy?" John simply stared blankly at Bobby before getting up, pulling his leather jacket back on and storming out of the door. He had never been one for conversation anyway and just didn't have the energy to shout and scream, which he would have done under any other circumstances, but right now he felt like crap and he could just picture a pint-or-ten with his name on them.

Bobby hurried after John but heard the revving of the Impala's engine and knew he was too late to stop the younger hunter. It was probably best if John cooled down for a bit anyway, he would be back in a couple of days in a better state of mind.

"BALLS!" It wasn't like Bobby didn't want to spend time with the rug-rats, he loved them to bits (not that he'd ever admit that he was going soft), but he knew that they needed the comfort of their family. Now was the time they needed to support each other in an attempt to re-build their apple pie life, and here was John acting like a complete bag of dicks!

The next morning, Bobby had woken up to the sounds of Sammy screaming and bawling at the top of his tiny lungs. With a sigh he headed into the boy's room and found Dean sitting on the floor cradling his brother, attempting to make him feed on the proffered bottle of milk he had packed in the suitcase, which was now warm and smelt funny. Sammy wouldn't drink but just continued to scream and Bobby could see the desperate tears streaming down Dean's face.

"Give him to me Dean, I'll sort him out." Dean hesitantly handed Sam over, but whimpered when Bobby began to leave the room with his younger brother.

"You can come to; I'm just gonna clean him up." Bobby watched, his brow furrowing when he saw Dean get to his feet with a Herculean effort, and noted how Dean wouldn't put his right foot down.

"What happened to your foot Dean?" There was no response other than a couple more tears leaking out of Dean's emerald green eyes and Bobby sighed, placing Sammy back on the bed before laying Dean next to him.

"Dean, sit on the bed for me."

"No." Dean's voice was weak and hoarse from crying, but Bobby was glad that he had finally began to speak.

"Dean, sit down now."

"D-don't want to!"

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be kiddo, just let me take a look."

"Please don't." This time Bobby felt his heart break. Dean's voice was hushed; almost a whisper and he looked up at Bobby with fearful eyes. He thought Bobby was going to hurt him even more, whatever was wrong with Dean's leg, it was clearly incredibly painful.

"I'll be careful, I promise. You can just yell at me to stop when you need to take a breather, ok?"

"Ok." Dean sniffled miserably and tensed, burying his face in a pillow and fisting his sheets.

Bobby then carefully pulled up Dean's trouser leg and tried to ignore the boy's whimper.

Bobby gasped at the sight of Dean's ankle; the bone was sticking right out, no wonder he was in agony. Bobby wondered how the boy was not unconscious or screaming, and came to the conclusion that he wasn't screaming in case John told him off for being too noisy. The kid was already showing signs of a hunter, tough and resilient.

"Right, hospital for you."

"I'm fine."

"No your not, that looks really sore."

"I want Daddy!"

"He's gone out for a while, he'll be back soon."

"When's soon?"

"I don't know Dean."

"I wanna go to sleep."

"I don't think so, sorry Dean." Dean shook his head miserably but fainted with a gasp of pain when Bobby pulled his trouser leg back down, despite being gentle the movement caused another spike of pain to shoot up Dean's leg and he just couldn't take it anymore. If anything he welcomed the oblivion.

Ten minutes later with a clean Sam and a passed out Dean in the truck, Bobby drove to A&E. I am gonna murder that bloody Winchester with my bare hands for leaving his boy like this!

After a lot of awkward questions and three days, Dean's ankle had been operated on and was now wrapped up in a temporary cast. He was still in a lot of pain but at least they were heading back home. Dean had hated the hospital, ever since Bobby had taken him in he had refused to talk to anyone, flinching away from the nurses and fighting against them if he got too close.

The crying hadn't been so bad, yes it was painful to watch Dean looking so miserable but it wasn't nearly as bad as what happened during the second night. Dean had practically shut down. Bobby had only left for a minute to get a cup of cheap coffee, but when he returned Dean was no longer in his bed. After half an hour of frantic searching Bobby had been told, well ordered, to wait in Dean's room in case the little boy returned. That was when he had spotted the cord of a hospital gown under Dean's bed. He quickly rang the attention bell and explained to the nurses that he had found Dean, but none of them could make the boy come out. He had curled up into a tiny ball and was rocking back and forth with his hands held tightly against his ears. In the end the staff ended up wheeling the bed away so that Bobby could pick Dean up and place him back in bed. Dean had not resisted, which was also disconcerting.

Bobby just sat by his bed all day, cuddling the boy close and muttering comforting words, although he wasn't sure Dean was listening.

By the third day still wasn't doing well emotionally but the nurses said that his ankle was begging to heal and that he could go home. Bobby actually groaned in relief, at least things would be easier on familiar territory. It was clear that Dean hated hospitals.

Whilst they were waiting to be signed off Dean was still avoiding looking at Bobby, instead choosing to stare out of the window sadly. His Dad hadn't come to the hospital with them; Maybe he doesn't love me anymore?

When Bobby scooped Dean up and placed him in the truck the boy seemed to perk up a little. He even allowed Bobby to carry him inside the house, he did have a crutch but relished in the comfort of Bobby hugging him close. He gently rested his head on the hunter's shoulder and began to doze off; the hospital staff had given him a lot of morphine, which was now taking his toll. Once Bobby had set Dean down on the sofa he returned to the truck to fetch Sam, who was also fast asleep.

Bobby took Sam upstairs and placed the baby in his cot before grabbing a beer and settling a sleeping Dean on the sofa next to him. He smiled as Dean subconsciously snuggled closer to his side and began to mumble in his sleep as Bobby carded through his short blonde hair. Dean was a good kid, he deserved so much better than this.

Bobby soon fell asleep on the sofa with Dean next to him; daytime television was getting worse by the minute these days! He was only roused when Dean began to thrash against him, screaming out in his sleep and begging for someone to "make it stop." Bobby had no idea what the kid was dreaming about, but it didn't take a genius to work out that this was a particularly unpleasant nightmare.

"Wake up kiddo. C'mon Dean, work with me here!" After a few more moments of wild thrashing Bobby's concerned gaze was met with blinking, emerald green eyes.

"B-Bobby?" Dean's face crumpled as he began to sob, wrapping his skinny arms around Bobby, who pulled the boy onto his lap and enveloped him in a tight hug. He was never usually one for soppy, lovey-dovey stuff but there was something about those freckles and sparkling eyes that pulled at his heartstrings.

"It's alright kiddo, it was just a dream. Don't cry." Bobby didn't know what else to do other than return Dean's hug, kids hardly came with manuals and he was pretty sure that there was nothing on how to care for a hurting child in any of his old books. Give me a damned poltergeist any day!

"I-I want Daddy."

"I know you do, he'll be back soon, I promise. Get some sleep Dean, things will look better tomorrow." Well, they probably won't 'cos I'm willing to bet my hat that your Daddy is drunk as hell, but maybe the day after he will get his ass in gear.

"I don't wanna sleep. I-I'm scared."

"You have nothing to be afraid of Dean, I'll take care of you. Do you want to talk about it?" At first Dean shook his head, but then he whispered something so quiet that Bobby didn't catch it.

"Speak up a little Dean."

"T-there was a fire in my dream. I-I didn't like it, I want Mummy back."

"I know Dean, I know." Bobby's heart sank. There was nothing he could do, not really.

"Please try to sleep Dean, for me."

"I don't feel well Bobby, my head and arm hurt. And my foot is real bad."

"I can't give you any more meds, I'm sorry but your gonna have to ride this one out. Just go to sleep Dean."

"I want to sleep with Sammy."

"You can't go upstairs Dean, the doctors said, remember?" The look that Dean gave Bobby caused the hardened hunter's heart to melt and he soon found himself scooping Dean into his arms and tucking him into bed upstairs. He then lifted a tiny Sammy out of his crib and passed the child to his older brother, watching from the doorway as Dean cuddled Sam close and began to stroke his tufts of hair. Sam wrapped a tiny fist around Dean's finger and began to chew it gingerly, causing Dean to smile lovingly down at his kid brother.

There was so much love in Dean's expression and Bobby was sure that these kids would grow up really close. He could tell that Dean would protect Sam from anything. His green eyes were so caring that it was obvious; no harm would ever befall Sam when Dean was around.

Dean eventually fell asleep with Sam still in his arms, so Bobby took the youngest Winchester and carried him downstairs, feeding him a bottle and ensuring that if he started crying, Dean wouldn't be woken up. The poor boy really needed some sleep.

Part two will be uploaded in a couple of days, depending on feedback, so please review. It really means a lot!