The Father, the Son
The last person Bobby had ever thought about becoming a father was Dean Winchester. Yet, he was hard pressed to think of a better person for the occupation. Dean had seen exactly how not to raise kids, between John’s own vengeance driven rearing and Sam’s yearnings for normal. So Bobby understood that having three little ones shoved into his arms would be unstable-making. Still, though.
“The Council?” Bobby said and made sure to put as much of the ‘you idjit’ that he was thinking into his tone. “You want to take three little babies that aren’t exactly normal into the Council.”
Dean shrugged, shifting baby Mary just a little. “Anna said that that was where we were supposed to take them. I figure, her being an angel, she would know.”
Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face. Lord save him from misguided idiots. “Dean, the Council ain’t exactly known for being all sweetness and light when it comes to beings that aren’t human. There’s a pretty good chance you’re going to get those babies hurt.”
Dean stiffened. “That’s why we want you to come with us, take care of the babies while we’re looking into this place.”
Bobby set his hands on his hips. “What do I know about babies? Are babies somehow demonic now? Just because I was friends with your daddy don’t mean I know a damn thing about taking care of kids.”
Dean grinned at him and Bobby damned his soft heart because he knew he was going to be going and he was going to be dealing with babies while the Winchester brothers ran around looking into a secret organization that was as likely to take their heads off as hold out a helping hand.
“Come on, Bobby. We stayed with you several times,” Dean said, a bit of cajoling in his voice.
“There’s a difference between two little boys and three infants, Dean,” Bobby sniped, even as he moved to pick up the squawking John Samuel. “Hush, Jay. As soon as your daddy gets over his fool notions, he’ll feed you.”
Sam hid his grin in Gracie’s neck. He would, Bobby knew, follow his big brother anywhere, including hell, as long as he knew the babies were fine. Bobby bit down a sigh. And that was what this was all about. Making sure that the babies were fine, even after they managed to get their fool selves killed.
“Bobby,” Dean started.
“Fine,” Bobby bit out. If they were going to be stupid, he was going to be close by so maybe he could fish them out before they’d gotten themselves dead and left him in charge of raising three Winchester babies. “Fine, I’ll go.”
Bobby didn’t smile when Dean melted in relief and Sam looked at him, startled, but it was a close thing.