Chapter Text
Bobby had never been a perfect parent— or a parent at all, depending on who you asked. But if there was one thing Bobby prided himself on, it was that his boys— Sam and Dean, but especially Dean, who’d carried the weight of the world for so long that Bobby was shocked he hadn’t crumbled yet— could always come to him, for anything. Even if they showed up on his doorstep with the damn apocalypse on their heels, Bobby swore to himself years ago that he’d welcome them in with nothing more than a “that’s what I’m here for”.
But just because he was prepared for an apocalypse did not mean he was ready for the baby.
Its cries were almost as loud as Dean’s knocking when Bobby pulled the door open. Dean looked wide-eyed and flustered on the porch, holding the baby against his shoulder. Behind him, the Impala gleamed in the sun, but Bobby couldn’t see any sign of Sam inside.
“Bobby, I need help,” Dean said, sounding panicked and miserable. He nudged the baby on his shoulder, as if Bobby hadn’t been staring at it the whole time. “Need to lay low for a while.”
It took Bobby a long minute to find the words. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”
Surprisingly, the baby seemed to calm down once they got inside. Its fingers were still curled around the collar of Dean’s shirt as it gently snoozed, lulled to sleep by the bounce of Dean’s leg. Bobby slid Dean a beer as he sat down beside him, trying to find the words to ask Dean about…this whole thing.
Last time he’d checked, Dean had been with Lisa, and he was pretty sure Lisa didn’t have a baby. And Dean would have told him, right? If he was having a kid?
“Laying low, huh? That another term for babysitting?” Bobby joked.
He really hoped it wasn’t. Bobby had no idea how to take care of a baby, not really. He’d do his best, of course, but the idea of being left alone with a kid made him queasy. What if he couldn’t keep it– him– safe? How was Bobby supposed to know what he needed, how to fix things when he started crying?
The flustered look had returned to Dean’s face. “Don’t worry, Bobby, I’m not trying to pawn him off on you. I just– like I said, I needed to lay low for a while.”
Bobby frowned. He was glad Dean considered him a safe space– his chest fizzled with pride at the idea– but Dean wasn’t supposed to need to lay low. He was supposed to be far away from the hunting life, from Bobby, from all of it. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to bring a baby into it.
“Everything okay with Lisa and Ben? Sam? Where is your brother, anyway?”
“Lisa and I broke up,” Dean said, the words spilling out quickly.
He must’ve thought Bobby would be disappointed in him, judging by the way his eyes kept flitting over Bobby. Bobby leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to stay neutral. Of course Bobby wanted Dean out of the life and settling down, but only if it made Dean happy.
When no outburst came, Dean’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he continued, “We just…we didn’t work. I couldn’t let go of the past, and…well, we didn’t work as well in a real relationship as we did in a weekend fling. I’m fine, though. I moved on. Cas has been watching over me.”
Oh. Well.
That explained things, didn’t it? Bobby felt a little silly for never realizing before, but now that he thought about it, the way Cas and Dean acted around each other was obvious. Dean dating the all-powerful angel who dragged him out of Hell and betrayed his family to save the world…well, Dean could do a whole lot worse.
Wait. But if Dean broke up with Lisa for Cas, wouldn’t that make the baby…
“And Sam…well, it’s not that I don’t trust him. He’s my brother. But Bobby John here ain’t exactly human.”
The baby was a monster, then. A nephilim.
Well…it still wasn’t worse than the Apocalypse, right?
“Wait,” Bobby said, lowering his beer in surprise. “His name is Bobby John?”
There was a distinct lump in Bobby’s throat as he watched Dean smile sheepishly, nodding.
“The lady asked us if we had a name for him, and I guess I just…panicked. So, yeah, Bobby John. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? Bobby was about to start bawling harder than the kid in front of them. “Not at all. I’m…happy for you, kid. Congratulations on the kid.”
“Thanks.” Dean snorted, taking a sip of beer. “Was a pretty big surprise, but I can’t say I hate it.”
Maybe angel pregnancies just worked differently, then, because Bobby was pretty sure it’d be obvious when Cas started sprouting a stomach for forty weeks. Because it was…Cas, right? Who carried the baby?
God, Bobby did not want to think about this.
“Where is Cas, anyway?”
Dean shrugged. “Not sure. He’s been…around. He comes when I pray for him.”
“So you’re still hunting, huh?”
He could just imagine Dean going out on a hunt, carrying little Bobby John in one of those baby carriers, having him strapped to his chest. As sweet as the image was, it was quickly soured by the sound of shattered glass and the smell of milk.
Bobby shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. Dean would never be like that– not like Bobby’s father, certainly not like John.
“I guess I shouldn’t, should I?” Dean said, looking lost in thought as he stared down at the sleeping baby. “I mean– he can’t go anywhere else, and…I can’t raise him in the life, I can’t.”
Dean met Bobby’s eyes, mouth parted and a hint of panic swirling around his features, but any words were cut off by the sound of tires crunching gravel. Dean swore, standing up while trying not to jostle Bobby John too much.
“That’s probably Sam. I should talk to him. Bobby, can you…?”
Before Bobby really knew what he was doing, he opened his arms, allowing Dean to hand over the baby. Bobby John’s weight was snug up against him, fragile and warm. He swallowed the lump in his throat as the baby let out a tiny yawn, his fingers pawing at the collar of Bobby’s plaid.
Bobby couldn’t imagine why anyone, even Dean, would want to give this kid up for hunting.
Rocking the baby ever so slightly, Bobby moved away from the doorway, where he could hear the beginning of an argument between Sam and Dean. He slowly entered his bedroom, setting the baby down on the bed.
He stood up when–
He flinched at the sound of the loud spatter, feeling the weirdly warm, chunky liquid hit his face.
“Dean!” Bobby yelled, staring down at the baby.
It looked painfully like Dean– right down to the bright green eyes (where they used to be brown) and brown hair (where it used to be much lighter). And if Bobby looked closely enough, he was sure he’d see some resemblance to Cas, too. The only problem was that this was definitely not the baby Dean had walked in with.
“What’s wrong, Bobby?” Dean said, looking unfazed at the image of Bobby covered in the baby’s skin.
“You didn’t tell me it was a shifter baby, you idgit,” Bobby said through gritted teeth, using his sleeve to wipe the worst of it off his face.
Dean frowned. “Yeah, this shifter was impersonating people’s spouses to make more little mini shifters. Why else would I have a newborn baby?”
Bobby sighed. He was starting to hope for the apocalypse.