Hey Guys! This is my first Supernatural Fic, I apologise if the characters are OOC.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Bobby Singer sighed as he gently ran a hand down his older adopted son's back while trying to clean up the water that the boy had spilled just accidentally spilled.

"Shh, shh, its alright, Dean, it was just an accident, nothing to get so worked up over. It just means yer not ready to use a glass yet," Bobby soothed.

Ten year old Dean Winchester just continued to sob into his adopted father's chest, his small body convulsing with the force of his tears.

" 'm sorry," Dean cried, "I didn't mean it! please don't beat me! I'll be a good boy, I promise! Just please don't get the belt!"

It was times like this that Bobby was glad that John Winchester was dead. Because if he wasn't, Bobby sure as hell would have killed John himself for all that the man had done to Sam and Dean. For now though, all Bobby could do was attempt to reverse the psychological damage that John had caused to the boys, especially to Dean.

"Hey, hey, easy, boy" Bobby said, lifting the ten-year old into his arms and settling Dean on his hip, "no one said anythin' about a beatin'. That ain't somethin' thats gonna be happening in this house. John was wrong to ever lay a hand on ya or yer brother. But's that is all gonna change now 'cause I'm your daddy now and I don't believe in hitting."

"You promise?" Dean asked, for once in his young life, managing to sound his age.

"I swear on my life, boy" Bobby murmured, "I ain't gonna lay a hand on you or Sammy."

By now, Dean's sobbing had quieted down to hitching breaths and occasional hiccoughs.

"That's it, just breath, Dean" Bobby soothed, rubbing a comforting hand on the back of Dean's neck, "there's a good boy, just keep that up and you'll be fine in no time."

Dean let out a hitched but content sigh and lay his head on his dad's shoulder, his thumb finding its way into his mouth.

Bobby knew he should be discouraging the bad habit but he couldn't find the heart to do it.

Dean had been robbed of his childhood at an early age, constantly living in fear of his father and trying to provide for his little brother. In Bobby's mind, Dean deserved to regress a little bit.

Now that both boys was permanently in Bobby's care and Dean no longer had to provide for Sam on his own; Dean had seemed to revert back to some of his childhood habits such as sucking his thumb for comfort and needing to be rocked to sleep each night, sometimes more than once when the nightmares were particularly bad. One positive result that had come out of the situation was that both Dean and Sam had latched on to Bobby immediately and acted as if Bobby was their biological father. Both boys had begun referring to Bobby as "Daddy."

The thought made Bobby smile as he checked the time as he made his way out of the kitchen, it was 2:30 in the afternoon.

"Good," Bobby thought, "Sammy is still taking his nap so I have some time to give Dean my full attention. God knows the boy needs after his little scare at lunch." Bobby also knew that in order for Dean to be able to recover from the abuse, there would be times when the boy would need his dad all to himself.

Sitting down on the couch, Bobby situated Dean so that his older son was sitting across his lap, allowing the boy to lay his head against Bobby's chest.

Bobby took the opportunity to lift the back of Dean's shirt and examine the healing of the bruises from John's final tirade on the kid. Almost all of the bruising showed to be in it's last stages of healing.

Dean whimpered as he felt his dad lift the back of his shirt.

"Shh, shh," Bobby hushed, dropping the back of the shirt, "I was just checking the healing, sport. That's all I was doin'"

Without another word, Dean settled himself closer to his dad's chest and rubbed his cheek against Bobby's jacket, his small hands fisted in the leather.

Smiling down at his eldest, Bobby reached over to the side table and grabbed the modified sippy cup that Dean was using until he had fully recovered from the beatings he had taken from John. As a result of being hit multiple times in the face, Dean had lost almost all muscle control in his jaw. The doctors had given him a special cup to help him drink and regain his jaw strength.

Right now, the cup's most important function was to serve as a comforting tool for Dean. Even though he was ten years old, Dean liked to be treated as if he were younger, it gave Dean a sense of security that he had never had living with his dad. If it gave comfort to the boy, then that was something Bobby was willing to provide until Dean decided he no longer needed it.

Dean took the cup in his hands and began to drink as he leaned back against Bobby's chest, closing his eyes in contentment, Dean let himself fall into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. Feeling safe and secure for the first time in his life.