I was going to wait but I felt so giddy after getting reviews and followers that I decided to put this up here. I was definitely feeling the pressure after the great reviews to make an even greater story so I rewrote this part about fifty times. If there is anything that doesn't make sense or any mistakes don't be afraid to let me know (I got tired of reading it over and over so there may be a few).

Also, I don't own supernatural or the characters.

Bobby POV

Dean was here. Alive. Breathing. He had hardly aged since I last saw him, not that it was expected given his... condition but still hard to swallow. It had been over six years now since I've heard any word from Dean and over ten years since Sam had last saw him. This was going to be next to impossible to explain to Sam when he showed up on my doorstep. He believed Dean had abandoned him when he was twelve and was either dead or just not going to come back. Dean had told me to keep it that way and despite my trying to reason with him Deans reasoning had been better; maybe he should have been the lawyer. Just my luck that Sam was coming home tomorrow for the summer. It's not like I could call him and tell him to turn back around to college without questions being asked either. The boy just didn't know when to stop with the constant questions.

"Bobby?" Or Caleb either, I thought, as he held up an old photo of Sam and Dean. "Sam has a brother? Kidd or Dean or whoever is Sam's brother?" Caleb's question held an almost hysterical note.

"It's not what it seems like." Caught in my own lie. Balls! Over the years Sam had led everyone to believe he was an only child and knew nothing of the supernatural world from before for his own reasons but I had gone along with the lie just the same.

"And what does it seem like?"

"What makes you so sure I even know anything anyways?" I asked defensively like the old grouch they believed I was as I poured holy water over Deans freshly stitched wounds once again before bandaging them. He had two anti-possession tattoos that I could see and enochian sigils trailing down his arms. And people had said I was paranoid. Was that a gang tattoo? We were going to have to have a talk when he woke up.

"Because you raised Sam since he was ten. And," Caleb drew out dramatically before turning the photo over and shoving in front of my face. "This is your handwriting."

"Well, I didn't say I didn't know anything either." I replied dejectedly.

"Stop stalling." He looked about three seconds away from placing his hands on his hips and tapping his foot like some fish wife.

Since when could the darn idjit tell I was stalling? Maybe raising Sam has made me tame and readable over the years? "It's not my story to tell and if Dean wants to tell you when he wakes up he can. Not even Sam knows. Yet. So don't mention it to him. Understand, boy?"

"Understood." Caleb agreed without hesitation. "But how did Sam end up with you and Dean, Kidd, or whoever he is end up hunting?"

"After John died hunting some creature or another both boys came here for a few years. But Dean has always been a little... different and when it started to become noticeable it was decided Sam would stay here with me." Actually Dean had decided. I had wanted both of them to stay but Dean wouldn't have it. Sam was far enough out of the hunter life not to get hurt but still knowledgeable and able to protect himself if needed. "Wet that rag there and wipe all that blood off his face."

"Different?" Caleb picked at my word choice as he did as I told him. Looked worse than it was. Just a split lip and bloody nose.

"Not much is known about Dean's condition." 'Lie!', my conscious screamed at me. 'Only a little white one', I assured my consciousness. 'Besides in this case what he doesn't know won't hurt him.' I wonder when I lost my sanity and started to argue with myself. I really needed a beer. "But it didn't take long before people started to mistake Dean for the younger brother though he learned to hide it pretty well. Even you were fooled." And Sam.

"What? When?"

"Those two years of hunting with Dean? Physically Dean couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. How old did you tell me that 'darn Kidd who thought he could hunt' was again?"

Caleb flushed. Score one for me.

I flipped Dean over on the kitchen table to check his back for any more wounds and couldn't hold back my curse. What had the idjit get himself into now? From the top of his shoulders to the small of his back someone or something had seared and cut a decorative brand. Wings of all things. The irony must have pissed Dean off. Each miniscule feather was carefully detailed down to the barbs. It had taken time, skill, and a pain I couldn't imagine. The only comfort I could find in the horrendous engraving that covered the entirety of Deans back was that it was several years old and had already healed as much as it ever would.

Caleb hesitantly ran his hand over Dean's back trailing his fingers gently over the carved feathers. "If it wasn't his skin it would be beautiful. Who could do something like this?"

"Dean had made a lot of enemies over the years." I replied gruffly.

"Hunters?" Caleb asked.

"And everything else under the sun." I confirmed, watching as he pulled his hand away from Dean as if it suddenly burned. "We knew it would happen one day. He attracts trouble like a fresh corpse attracts flies and vultures. He thought it would be safer for Sam if he left and kept moving. Hunters would become suspicious and catch on eventually. Dean wouldn't risk that coming back to Sam." Not to mention the whole curse and all-knowing thing he had going on.

"So if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" Caleb snorted. "Only Kidd would become a hunter when he was hiding from hunters." I laughed too. He was right; only Dean.

When I finished patching Dean up Caleb placed him on the couch and dug up an afghan blanket from some unknown origin. He stirred a few times calling for Sam and someone called Cas but didn't wake.