It's Not Always In The Blood

[saberivojo]

Title:  It's Not Always in the Blood
Author:  Saberivojo
Characters:  Sam, Dean, John and Bobby
Rating:  Gen, PG,  Kid!chesters.  Not sure the age. Wee? young teen?
Warnings: Some potty mouth
Summary:  The Winchesters are at Bobby’s.  John’s got something to say.  Bobby listens.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not getting paid. Just like playing with the boys.
 

“There’re growin’ up Bobby.”

Bobby arched a brow in John’s direction then let it lie. “Sure ‘nuff,”  Bobby agreed.

They sat on the porch that overlooked the junkyard and Bobby watched John watching his boys work on knife throwing practice.  At his feet was the mastiff cross who spent his days patrolling  the junkyard and keeping an eye out for Winchester kids.

Bobby peered at John from underneath of his hat then allowed his eyes to travel to his yard.  The boys had been at it for a while now, Bobby figured that Sam would have sat down in the dirt and just plain stop throwing, but with his Daddy watching, Sam was less inclined to quit.  Dean, of course, wouldn’t stop until John forced him to.

Bobby had been around some.  He had seen a lot of hunters come and go but there was no one who irritated him quite as much as John Winchester.  Jim Murphy had  sworn that John Winchester was a good man and Bobby set a lot of store by Jim so he had given him a chance. 

Still, sometimes it was all Bobby could do to not shoot him full of buckshot.

John’s kids though, Bobby took to them well enough.  He figured that putting up with John was worth it just to have the boys around.  

John didn’t look particularly interested in the boys, but Bobby knew that wasn’t so.  John Winchester may not have been the world’s best dad, but he was involved when he thought he needed to be.  He watched, he commented and could just as easily step into the knife throwing class to show something that needed showing.

Bobby expected him to do just that when he stood and raked a hand through his hair but instead he simply looked over at the boys.

Bobby followed John’s gaze to Sam and Dean.  It looked like there was a fight brewing out there. He couldn’t hear the words but watched as Sam emphatically shook his head.

“Bobby,”  John dropped his voice a notch, something that Bobby had grown to realize meant there was something important that he needed to say.  Something he expected the boys to listen to. 

Bobby wasn’t one of John Winchester’s boys, but he took the hint.

He swallowed a deep pull on his long neck.

“John.”

John breathed quietly, as if stilling himself.  Focusing on what he needed to say.

“They like it here, Bobby.  Feels as close to a home as they are ever gonna get,”  John started, taking a drink himself.  “They like you.”  

Bobby nodded.  It was true.  They did like him.  There were times when he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why though.

“Bobby…”  John studied his hands, fingers restlessly turning Mary’s wedding band.  “Bobby, if something was to happen to me…”  He choked back a cough.  “Will you…” He lowered his voice to a rumble, gravel in every word“…be around for them?”

Bobby looked at the boys and then at the man who wouldn’t take a helping hand for anything other than for them.  Damn, John Winchester.

“Course I will.”

The boys had stopped completely now with the knife throwing and whatever they were fighting about turned physical.  Sam was in a headlock and Dean was dragging him into the dusty South Dakota dirt.

John glanced in their direction, watched while his oldest tried to nuggie Sam into the dirt.  He squinted into the late afternoon sun, as Sammy pulled a sharp jab into Dean’s nose.

“Thanks.”

Bobby snorted.   “Shoulda got a tape recorder for that one, John.”

John  grinned slow and easy, dropped his head  then met the other man’s eyes.  “Sure as shit, won’t happen too many times.”

There was quiet then,  Bobby looked over the tumble going on, fists and feet.   The dog chuffed low in warning then stood ,thick jowls dripping slobber onto the porch.  Bobby dropped a hand to the dog’s head.  “S'okay, boy.  They’re fine.”

The dog whined a little as if not quite believing Bobby. “Looks like somebody drew first blood, John.”

John nodded at the boys who for all intents and purposes were doing their damnest to kill one another.

“Sam, probably,”  But he brushed his hands off lightly and leaned into the porch railing.

“Boys,”  Not terribly loud, not terribly forceful, but the mêlée in the yard stopped abruptly. 

Dean was grinning despite the slow trickle of blood from his nose and Sam had that wide-eyed southern boy look, hair all askew, knuckles a bit scraped.

“Alright boy,” Bobby touched the mastiff and the dog jumped off the porch, happy to be able to check on his charges. 

The boys were ambling up to the porch, greeting the dog, unconcerned about the slobber that dangled in long wet streams down his mouth.

John reached over to Dean as he stepped up to the porch.   He tilted the boy’s head back, hand under his jaw.  “Sammy got a good one in eh, Dean?”

“Yes, sir.”  To his father then a shoulder bump to his brother.  “Lucky punch.”

“Lucky nothin', Dad.  I nailed him good.  Didja see?”

John nodded, dropped a hand to Sammy’s head. 

“You boys go on in, hit the head, wash up and get ready for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Tandem voices.

Bobby watched as they filed into the house, John trailing the boys.   Damn, that man and those boys.  But he allowed a smile to play across his face.   They were a helluva family.  John fucking Winchester, his two miscreants and Bobby Singer.

Well Hell.

Then to himself, almost as an afterthought

 “It’ll do, boys.  It’ll do.”

end