Bring Your Kid to Work Day

Sammy was asleep on the couch, snoring gently underneath one of Uncle Bobby's battered old coats. He had fallen asleep while pondering where the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was currently on the coffee table had gotten to.

Dean had his nose buried in one of his old Batman comics, dog-eared from travelling through so many states. He already knew the story, but he liked to imagine extra scenes and make up his own adventures. Sammy always enjoyed the comics that Dean drew.

In the kitchen a phone rang. Dean rushed to answer it before it woke Sammy.

The label on the receiver Dean put to his ear read 'FBI'.

"Hello," Dean said confidently in his best grown-up voice, "this is the FIB."

"Sir, this is Sherriff Hill of Iowa State..." The gruff voice at the end of the line trailed off. When it resumed it was muffled and Dean struggled to make out what was being said. "Agent Bonham, there is a child on the end of this line. Care to explain that?"

Dean could hear Daddy's voice but not the words he was saying.

"Cuff him," the strange, angry voice said before the line went dead.

Dean returned the phone to its cradle and checked on Sammy—who was still asleep—before going out into the yard to find Uncle Bobby. He was just a pair of denim-clad legs sticking out from under a rusty old truck. As he heard Dean's footsteps approach he slid out from under the chassis.

"Daddy's got himself arrested again," Dean announced without preamble, scuffing his shoe in the dirt.

Bobby stood with a grunt and wiped his hands on an oily rag. "What are ya doin' answerin' the phone, ya idjit?" he groused.

He stepped closer, throwing Dean into shadow.

"I didn't want to wake Sammy," Dean confessed, bravely looking up at Uncle Bobby's bearded chin. "Please don't be mad."

Dean winced in expectation of a scolding that never came. Uncle Bobby's face softened. "Yeah, well, don't you go answerin' the phones again and we'll call it even. Deal?" He held out a hand for Dean to shake.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, shaking the proffered hand as firmly as he could.

"Now none of that 'sir' nonsense," Uncle Bobby griped. "It's Bobby. Go and play with your brother." When Dean didn't immediately move, he waved his arms. "Go on, get!"

Dean ran into the house. Sammy was blinking awake on the couch. He sat up, the puzzle piece stuck to the dribble on his chin. "Look, Dean," he said, proudly holding the puzzle piece aloft, "I found it!"

"Good job, Sammy!" Dean praised.

Dean could hear Uncle Bobby's authoritative voice coming from the kitchen.

"...Yes, Agent Bonham is one of ours. A kid? It's, uh, Bring Your Kid to Work Day is what it is. Yes. Uh-huh. Well I'm glad we got that sorted. Yeah, what are ya gonna do? Kids all over the place, it's like a day-care centre..."

THE END