THIRTY FOUR

Sorry it's taken so long for me to update, but my dad was fighting cancer for most of 2016 and passed away a few days before Halloween. So I didn't feel like writing for awhile, especially this story. After trying (and failing) several times over the past year, I finally managed to write again. It took me 3 weeks, but I finally did it.

Dean has a heart to heart with Bobby & has some fun with his brother.

The brothers were sitting together at the kitchen table. Sam was once again searching on his laptop and writing things down in his notebook. Dean was sitting with him for company, watching as Bobby was preparing dinner for later.

"What are you making?" asked Dean.

"Lasagne."

"Thank god you're making it. The last time Sam made lasagne, it tasted like cardboard covered in sick," Dean said with a shudder.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that bad, Jerk."

"Yeah whatever, bitch. No offence, Sammy, but if you'd gone back in time and offered that to the Donner party, they still would've eaten each other."

Bobby chuckled while Sam pretended to look offended at Dean's comment. "He's right Sam. Ya have a talent for cooking certain meals, but lasagne sure as hell isn't one of them."

"Okay fine. I admit, it wasn't the greatest thing in the world. But at least I didn't nearly blow the motel up with a toaster, trying to make toast."

"Hey, that wasn't my fault. The toaster was broke." Dean winced at the memory of trying to make some toast for his little brother years before. The loud bang, and blue flash as he put the handle down, followed by a pain in his hand and up his arm. "The damn thing nearly fried me. My arm was tingly for almost two days."

"You were paranoid about toasters for months afterwards. You kept saying they were all possessed and wanted to kill you."

"It wouldn't be the first or last time something was possessed and tried to kill me. Remember when that crazy ghost bitch tried to kill me with my own car?"

"Of course I remember, I was there too," said Sam, scrolling down the page he was currently reading on his laptop. "You looked like you literally had a mud bath after your head-dive off the bridge."

"Yeah, Good times," said Dean with a smile.

Sam looked over his laptop, staring at Dean like he was crazy. "Good times? Dean, we were almost killed."

"I know that. I meant... Hunting. We had some good times. I miss it," said Dean, placing his elbow on the table, and his chin in his palm as he stared into the distance with a long dramatic sigh.

Sam rolled his eyes again, and Bobby shook his head as he picked up the cooking dish, and placed the lasagne into the fridge to be cooked later.

"It's only been a few months, not years. Quit being a drama queen."

"I'm not. Hey, I've got a really important question. I've been wondering about it for years," said Dean, looking seriously at the other two men, who looked worriedly back. "If Buzz lightyear didn't know he was a toy, why didn't he speak when humans were around?"

Sam blinked and stared at him. "What? Why are you asking about a character in a kids movie?"

"I don't know. I always thought it was strange."

"It's not as strange as you, so don't worry about it."

"Oh you bitch," said Dean, throwing a crumpled paper ball at Sam, hitting him in the face.

"Jerk," said Sam, throwing it back.

"As fascinating as this conversation is, I'm going out into the garage for awhile. I have to get this car fixed for a friend of mine, he's coming back to pick it up tomorrow," said Bobby, wiping his hands on a tea towel, before walking to the door. "I'll be right outside if ya need me."

"Okay," said Sam, turning back to Dean, who looked bored. He sighed, and ripped a couple of pages out of his thick notebook and handed him a pen. If he kept Dean occupied, he hopefully wouldn't start asking more random questions or just being a pain in the ass.

Sam spent the next hour with his laptop and his notebook. Dean was drawing symbols on the paper Sam had given him, occasionally making a comment to his brother.

They continued enjoying each others company until Sam got up to go to the bathroom. After making sure he had gone, Dean turned the laptop around, started a new page and searched for the symptoms of depression.

Even though he was the one with depression, Dean had never searched for anything to do with the signs or symptoms. He had tried the night before his dad's birthday but back then he didn't feel as if he was ready, now he felt as if he was ready to know.

Dean put the keywords into a search engine and when the pages loaded up, he took a deep breath and clicked on the first link. When he saw the list, he sat back in shock at how many of the symptoms he had.

*Withdrawal from socialising.
*Loss of interest in previously enjoyed hobbies.
*Acting recklessly.
*Constant irritability, sadness and 'empty' feelings.
*Constant pessimism.
*Suicidal thoughts.
*Insomnia.
*Loss of appetite.

But the one that surprised Dean the most was the last one.

*Feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and self-loathing.

Dean's eyes widened. If self-loathing was a symptom of depression, then he had been depressed for longer than he thought. He knew he had felt the hatred toward himself a lot stronger over the 10 months since John died, but he never realised it was actually one of the symptoms of being depressed.

Dean continued staring at the list until he heard Sam walking downstairs. "Dammit," he whispered, quickly shutting the page down and turning Sam's laptop back to where it was. As Sam walked into the kitchen, Dean stood up from the table. "I'm going out to the garage for awhile."

"Are you okay?" asked a worried Sam.

"Yeah. I need some fresh air."

Bobby was busy working when he felt someone standing behind him. Turning around, he saw it was Dean, bundled up in layers with a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, and holding two cups of coffee in gloved hands.

"Does Sam know yer out here?" Bobby asked, taking his cup with 'The boss' written on it from Dean's hand.

Dean rolled his eyes, and took a sip of his own coffee. "Yeah. Why do you think I've got so many layers on? He wouldn't let me out without wrapping me up like the Michelin man and asking me twenty times if I was warm enough, if I was feeling okay to go to the garage, and then he made me promise that if I felt even the tiniest bit dizzy to come back into the house. Seriously, you'd think he was the older brother."

Bobby chuckled, and closed the hood on the car so Dean could sit down. "He's just making sure yer alright," he said, leaning back against the car beside Dean.

"I know," said Dean, shuffling back on the car, so he could put his feet on the bumper. "But sometimes it does get annoying being treated like I'm made of glass and I'm going to break at the slightest thing."

"After everything that's happened and everything we've been through these past few months ya can't blame him for being over-protective and taking care of ya. That's what family does."

As Dean took another sip of the hot, black coffee, his eyes kept darting around the garage nervously as if he was expecting people to suddenly pop up out of the car or in Bobby's giant toolbox.

"It's only us two in here. There's nothing to be nervous about. There's no people around like yesterday, the guy will be coming back for his car tomorrow. Yer safe."

"I know," Dean whispered, staring into the black liquid in his cup, a faint blush colouring his otherwise pale cheeks. "I always feel safe here."

"Yer always welcome here," said Bobby, a sudden wave of love and affection for the young man washed over him.

Dean smiled. "This place is like my home. Here and my baby... they're home."

"This place is where I live," said Bobby, gesturing around them. "But it's only my real home whenever my boys are here. It's not the house that makes a home, it's the people in it."

"Yeah, I guess so. I haven't had a real 'house' home since mom died, but as long as I have you, Sammy and baby, I'll always have a home."

"Always," Bobby agreed, winking at him as the two of them drank their coffees. He noticed that Dean was staring at something outside the door with wide unblinking eyes, and asked what he was looking at and what he was thinking about.

Dean was silent for several seconds, before answering. "How life can be as fragile as a dandelion."

Bobby was lost at the answer, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Dandelions," Dean said, gesturing outside the garage door where a few dandelions were growing. As a breeze blew outside, making the florets dance and fly in the wind, Dean shivered. "Life can be just as fragile as a dandelion. Just one breath, or a gust of wind, the dandelion florets scatter in the wind. Gone forever."

"I never thought of it like that before."

"As sudden as that... In the blink of an eye, your life can be over." Dean quickly wiped his face with his gloved hand as a tear swam down his cheek. "You can be crossing the road and suddenly get hit and killed by a speeding car, you can be shot and killed by an idiot with a gun, you can close your eyes to go to sleep and never wake up, you can suddenly have a heart attack and literally drop dead." Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as he shook his head. "Or like dad. One minute he was there, talking to me... the next Sammy's running into the room, saying dad's dead. He was gone," he finished in a whisper. "He's gone Bobby."

Bobby wrapped one arm around Dean's trembling form. "I know son. Shh. It's okay. I've got ya," he whispered when Dean sniffled.

Dean leaned against Bobby and continued watching the dandelions. When the tears clouded his vision until everything was a blur, he blinked rapidly, wiping away the stray ones that fell with his gloved hand. "Right now I probably look as fragile as a dandelion. One wrong touch could make me shatter like glass, or a strong gust of wind would blow me away... like when we went fishing," he added, his lips twitching.

Bobby chuckled as he remembered Dean's offer of tying some string around his legs and using him as a kite if he got bored, after he almost got blown off his feet. He gave him a gentle squeeze. "Yer body may be frail right now and ya may look like a small gust of wind will blow ya over, but in spirit and in heart, yer the strongest person I know."

Dean finally looked away from the dandelions and looked at Bobby. "Yeah, I guess. As each day does by, the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter and brighter." His smile widened for a second, making him look almost like his old self. "As long as nothing comes along to hit me and knock me back. Because the worst time to be hit by a train is the instant where the end of the tunnel is in sight."

"We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen. Sam and I will always be here. Always. Yer never gonna be alone, Dean," Bobby promised, putting his cup down and turning to wrap Dean in his arms. "We'll be right here. Right by yer side and we'll fight together. We're always stronger together than we are on our own."

"I know. But part of me is still scared that light will go back out and I won't be able to find my way back again," Dean whispered in a soft voice, clinging tightly to Bobby, as he voiced his biggest fear. His breath hitched and his face crumpled, his bottom lip started trembling. "I was reading the symptoms of depression on Sam's laptop, and I was shocked to see how many I had. I didn't realise it was..." Dean shook his head. "I don't want to feel like that again. I can't go back there. It was like I was stumbling around in the dark, while life still carried on around me. I can't fall back into that darkness, Bobby. I-I-I just... I can't."

"Ya won't. Sam and l will always pull ya back out and pick ya back up again. Ya don't need to be scared. We will be that light against the darkness, ya hear me? We'll always guide ya back. But yer stronger than ya think, son."

Bobby pulled away, and held Dean's face gently, wiping the tears with his thumb, before cradling his thin face in both hands. "A part of ya may have died when John did, but what was left was so much stronger." Bobby's thumb stroked the bony cheek gently in a loving fatherly gesture. "It'll be a long fight, but we'll win in the end."

Dean looked up at Bobby with a tiny smile lifting up the corner of his lips, even as more tears clung to the ends of his long eyelashes. "Yeah," he whispered as that smile became a grin. "That's why we're called 'Winchesters', because we always win."

Bobby stared at him for a few seconds, and burst out laughing. "Come here, ya freak," he said, pulling him against his chest again, his heart filling with so much love for the young man in his arms.

Dean closed his teary eyes, and relaxed in Bobby's embrace. "The hardest battle I've ever had to fight was with my own mind, body and soul. And that fight is far from over, but with you guys... I can do this. I can finally be normal again."

"Dean, when have ya ever been normal?"

Dean laughed and punched Bobby in the arm as he pulled back to wipe his face. "Hey. I'm as normal as you are."

"Then ya definitely ain't normal," Bobby chuckled.

"Maybe not. But normal is boring anyway. I may be weird, and I may be a freak. My life may be hard, and my life may be crazy... But it's mine, and I'm ready to live it again."

"Good. But I'm glad we're not normal, because if our lives were normal, I wouldn't have met my boys," said Bobby, ruffling Dean's hair. "And I wouldn't trade them for anything."

Dean shifted closer to Bobby as the older man sat beside him, and rested his head against Bobby's shoulder. He sat staring silently at the dandelions for several minutes, before breaking the silence. "A few months ago, I didn't think I had anything to live for. But if there's one thing I've learnt these past few months, it's that family is worth fighting for, family is worth dying for... But more than anything, family is worth living for." Dean smiled at Bobby. "You and Sammy taught me that."

Bobby smiled and placed his arm around Dean's thin frame, his cheek resting against the top of Dean's head as they sat together for several long minutes. Companionable silence enveloped them, as the two men were lost in their own thoughts.

After dinner, Sam went into the living room to watch a documentary he had wanted to watch for days, so Dean decided to go upstairs.

He was at the kitchen door when he was stopped by Bobby who was holding out a jar with several dandelions inside. "Here."

Dean took the jar, and looked at Bobby in confusion. "A jar of dandelions?"

"I was thinking about what we were talking about earlier, about how life can be as fragile as dandelions. So I put the rest of them in a jar," Bobby explained, looking almost shy. "As long as they're in the jar, and have the glass sheltering them, they'll always be protected and safe from harm. Ya can blow all ya want, but they won't scatter anywhere."

Dean looked down at the jar. "It's... I love it."

"Good. But I was also thinking about what ya said about looking as fragile and being as frail as a dandelion. Ya may think of yerself as the dandelion, but think of us as the glass. As long as we're around, yer gonna be safe and we'll take care of ya, and protect ya from anything or anyone that wants to hurt ya. Anything dares to try, they'll have to get through us first."

Dean started blinking rapidly, and stepped forward to hug Bobby, who returned the embrace. He closed his eyes and whispered his thanks, including one special word- A name he never thought he would call anyone again. "Thanks dad."

Bobby swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, his eyes tearing up at the simple word. "Yer welcome son," he said, holding Dean for several more seconds, before pulling away. "I know it's a terrible present, and it's probably not as meaningful as the flask with the picture and the poem, but it's the only way I could think to..."

"It's not terrible," Dean interrupted, shaking his head. "It's great. It's going to sit right beside the Mini-'Pala." He smiled down at the jar like it was something special. It may just be a simple gift, but it symbolised so much and it meant a lot to Dean.

Bobby cleared his throat and wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to regain control of his emotions. "I uh... I better get back out to the garage," he said in a voice deeper than normal. "It's getting late, and I'm still not done."

"Okay. I'll be upstairs out of Sammy's way while he's geeking out with his nerdy documentary."

"Ya know where I am if ya need me."

Dean watched Bobby leave, and stayed where he was for a few more minutes, before he turned and walked upstairs to his room.

Dean was sitting on his bed, playing on The legend of Zelda: A link to the past on the Super Nintendo. He had only started a new game the day before, and he was nearly finished already. He had all the items, and heart pieces and was making his way towards the Pyramid of Power at the center of the Dark World to fight Ganon. After a battle resulting in Ganon's demise, Dean threw his fist in the air and cheered. "Woooo. Take that bitch."

Next Dean decided to play Killer instinct. As Dean chose his character, he stopped on Spinal, the living skeleton of an ancient warrior. Spinal was always his favourite when he was a teenager, he always loved annoying Sam when he used the Skeleport to disappear and reappear behind him. As Spinal, Dean never lost, much to Sam's annoyance.

But as Dean was about to press the button, the controller fell from his numb fingers, and he stared at the screen. At the image that was too similar to his own right now, okay he didn't walk around naked wearing a red bandanna, with a shield and a sword, but still... The skeletal form reminded Dean too much of himself, too thin, too bony. A skeletal man.

It was at that moment, that Sam decided to check on his brother to make sure he was okay. He walked into the room to see Dean sitting on the bed, staring at the TV screen with huge watery eyes, like he was in a trance.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam sat on the bed beside Dean, and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Dean?"

Dean's eyes didn't move from the screen as they stared at the figure on the TV, at all the protruding bones of the skeleton warrior. He hated being reminded of what he now looked like, and he shook his head and ran his bony fingers along his own collarbones, and down his own protruding ribs. "I hate the way I look. I hate the sight of my cheekbones poking through my skin. I hate the way my ribs look like they're gonna tear through the skin covering them. I hate the way my collarbones are so prominent, you could pour water into the hollows at each side of my neck and it wouldn't dribble out. I hate it when I lay down and my hip bones stand up like wrongly positioned shoulder blades. And my shoulder blades... they look like I've got tiny wings growing out of my back, or something. I hate it."

Sam frowned worriedly and placed his arm around Dean's shoulders. "I know you do. But as you continue to get better, you'll start looking like the old you. The guy in the picture that's still on the mirror. The guy that always got the girls because of his looks and charm. The guy who was always happy and confident in the way he looked. My big brother."

Dean smiled up at Sam. "Yeah," he whispered, looking once again at the skeleton. "I won't look like him anymore. I won't be a thin, bony skeleton. I'll be me. The handsome, awesome badass hunter, girl magnet extraordinaire."

Sam laughed. "Yeah you will. And I'll be there by your side as a proud little brother."

Dean nodded, his eyes still focused on the TV. Sam followed his gaze and gave Dean a gentle squeeze. "How about we play Mario for a couple of hours instead? It'll take your mind off it."

"Sure." Dean nodded, and pulled away. "We can pretend to be two awesome brothers, who kick monsters ass."

"Just like real life," Sam said over his shoulder, making Dean laugh. When Sam finished changing the games over, he picked up the other controller and sat back down beside Dean.

As they waited for the game to start, Dean cleared his throat and looked away like he was embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I don't know what came over me. I was okay one minute, and then I saw that, and I..."

"It's okay. After seeing something like that, something that was a little too close to how you look, I'm not surprised you er... had a moment."

"A moment? That's one word for it," Dean said as he started a new level as Mario. "You read to kick some ass, Luigi?"

"Always, Mario," said Sam with a laugh, watching Dean run and jump his way through the level, shooting anything he came across with the fire flower. "How the hell do you never fall down the holes?"

"Practise. And I'm just that awesome," Dean said as he jumped for the goal, and almost reached the top. "Wooo. Okay, your turn. Try not to fall down the holes."

"Shut up." Sam nudged Dean, and started a new level as Luigi, making sure to press jump as each hole or enemy appeared.

"SHOOT HIM WITH THE FLOWER!"

"I AM SHOOTING HIM WITH THE FLOWER!" yelled Sam, right before he got hit by what he was trying to shoot.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. Are you firing blanks again?"

Sam laughed, and elbowed him as Luigi jumped over the last hole, and jumped on a few enemies, before making his way to the end.

They spent the next half an hour yelling and elbowing each other like children, while they continued playing and having fun.

"FLY SAMMY! FLY"

"I CAN'T! I DON'T HAVE THE CAPE! QUIT YELLING AT ME!"

"I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU! YOU'VE GOT YOSHI! EAT THE BLUE SHELL! IT'LL MAKE YOU FLY DUMB-ASS!"

"You'll go flying in a minute. Either off the bed or out of the window," said Sam, making Yoshi eat the shell so he could fly.

Dean gasped, and placed his hand on his chest, his face a picture of shock. "Ooh. Your words wound me, Sammy."

"Whatever Jerk." Sam smiled and shook his head fondly as Luigi and Yoshi ran, jumped and flew easily, eating any enemies they came across until they made it to the end.

After playing on Mario for several hours, Dean decided to play on his guitar.

Sam went to the bathroom, while Dean turned the Nintendo off and grabbed his guitar. When Sam finished, he smiled when he heard singing coming from their bedroom and followed the sound.

Standing at the door, Sam watched his brother strum the guitar strings and sing in a soft voice. When he put his mind to it and wasn't messing around, Dean was actually a pretty good singer.

"...Inside my heart is breaking, my make-up may be flaking. But my smile still stays on. Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance. Another heartache, another failed romance. On and on, does anybody know what we are living for? I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now. I'll soon be turning, round the corner now. Outside the dawn is breaking, but inside in the dark I'm aching to be free. The show must go on. The show must go on. Yeah. Inside my heart is breaking, My make-up may be flaking. But my smile still stays on..."

Dean had his eyes closed as he sang, so he didn't notice Sam was standing there. Sam remained quiet until Dean reached the end, and started clapping, making Dean jump.

Dean's eyes shot open, widening in shock as they saw Sam standing there. A blush coloured his pale cheeks as he looked down again, long, thin fingers moving along the strings. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long. You're getting good with that," said Sam, nodding at the guitar as he walked over to join Dean on his bed.

"Thanks. I decided to have a Queen day today. Freddie was awesome, especially with that song even though he was really sick at that time." Dean nudged Sam with a grin. "Wanna do our usual?"

"We haven't done that since we were kids."

"So? You ready?" Dean readjusted the guitar and prepared for the song.

"I don't know if I can remember it."

"Just try. Come on Sammy. Live a little." Dean turned to look at Sam, his green eyes widening, his bottom lip poking out.

Sam sighed. "Okay fine. But if I make an idiot out of myself, I'm blaming you."

"AWESOME!" Dean grinned and started to sing softly. "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality. Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and seeee. I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because I'm easy come, easy go. Little high, little low. Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to meeeee."

Dean bit his lip as he tried to get the next notes, nodding along to the tune so he didn't go wrong. He nodded at Sam, who nervously started singing with him on the next verse. "Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all away. Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters."

"Awesome Sammy," said Dean, his fingers finding each note as if by magic as he sang the next part solo. "Too late, my time has come. Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Goodbye everybody, I've got to go. Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth. Mama, ooooooh. I don't wanna die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all." Dean smiled, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he replayed the previous notes. "I don't wanna die," he sang again, closing his eyes as a tear broke free and swam down his cheek. "I love that part."

Sam smiled back, his own eyes shiny. "Me too."

After several seconds, the brothers regained control of their emotions and continued with the song. "I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?..."

"I cannot remember what the hell the next words arrrrreeeee," Sam sang next, keeping in tune with the song.

Dean's lips twitched, his eyes crinkled as his fingers fell from the strings, into his lap. A bubbly sensation built deep in the pits of his stomach and grew bigger expanding inside until Dean could no longer contain it. He threw his head back, and laughter erupted, exploding out of his mouth, open and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Sam loved hearing the deep rumble of Dean's laughter, and watched him with a big smile, his eyes blurring with tears, which Sam quickly blinked away, allowing them to spill over, and cascade down his cheeks. Sam didn't want to miss a single second of seeing Dean laugh like this.

Dean laughing so happily and carefree was the best sound Sam had heard in a long time, and the love he felt in his heart for his brother threatened to overwhelm him. There had been many times in the past few months when Sam thought he would never hear his big brother laugh or ever see his smile again.

Tears of laughter pooled at the crease of Dean's eyes, and he moved his guitar slightly as he crossed his arms across his stomach, where the muscles spasmed with the force of his laughter. He bent over his guitar as he laughed so hard, his stomach and his ribs ached with all the pressure building from his insides. The laughter was so powerful that Dean would have fallen to the floor if he wasn't sitting down, his whole body was shaking, and the bed was almost vibrating with the force of it.

Sam ignored his tears as he watched in amusement as Dean finally seemed to be calming down from his sudden laughing fit. He would give anything to see Dean laugh like that all the time, and would do whatever it took to make it happen.

When Dean straightened up again, he looked at Sam. His green eyes were shining, crinkling at the corners, his smile was so big, wide and bright, it was almost blinding, and his freckled nose scrunched slightly, making him look about 5.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you did that. How can you forget the words to Bohemian Rhapsody? It's a classic."

Sam shrugged, still feeling emotional from watching Dean lose himself in his laughter. "I can't remember every single word to every single song I've ever heard."

"But it's not just any song, it's one of the best of all time. By the way it's, 'Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me'."

"Yeah, I knew that," said Sam, his eyes shifting to the side.

"Of course you did," said Dean with an eye roll, his fingers once again ready to play. "Right, are you ready to continue?"

"I think so." Sam shifted, so he was once again sitting shoulder to shoulder with Dean, before nodding to show he was set to continue.

The brothers voices joined together to sing in unison or solo. Their bodies swaying, shoulders bumping together as the song came to a close.

"...Nothing really matters, Anyone can see. Nothing really matters, Nothing really matters to meeee."

As their voices drifted off, they turned to each other with identical grins. "Woo. That was awesome."

"Yeah. We sounded pretty good," agreed Sam. He sat staring at Dean, whose entire face was transformed with happiness, which seemed to shine from inside him like a beacon.

Dean's expressive eyes, which had been filled with a dull, haunted look for so long, carrying so much guilt and sorrow, was completely gone and now seemed to be sparkling with delight and joy, the green shining like emeralds, bringing colour to his usually pale cheeks.

As he watched Dean smiling happily with a rare genuine smile, a light dancing in his eyes that hadn't been there since John died, Sam was suddenly overcome with emotion and threw his arms around Dean. His face was nestled into the curve of Dean's neck as he held him tightly, cherishing the feel of his big brother alive and happy in his arms.

"Whoa. Are you okay, Sammy?" asked a worried Dean, moving away from the edge of the bed after Sam's sudden hug attack nearly threw him off the bed.

As Sam hugged Dean, he could feel his ribs, spine and shoulder blades even through his layers, it felt as if the bones were sitting directly beneath the fabric of his shirts, with no flesh at all in between. It almost felt like Sam was hugging a bag of bones, but he could feel Dean's pulse against his cheek, and could feel him breathing against him. Which meant Dean was still there with him, he was safe, alive and even more important than that he was getting better, and that meant more to Sam than anything else.

Dean was still surprised at Sam's reaction, and awkwardly patted him on the back. After several seconds he felt the wetness on his neck, telling him that Sam was crying, so Dean wrapped his own arms around Sam and finally returned the hug, trying to offer comfort to his obviously emotional brother. "It's okay Sammy."

After a few minutes, Sam finally let go, but kept one arm wrapped around Dean's bony frame as he wiped his face with his hand. "I missed you smiling and laughing like that. I just... It's been a long time."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly, looking down at his bedside table, at the jar of dandelions sat beside the Mini-'Pala. "It feels good. It's been too long since I felt... happy." He turned back to look at Sam, a tiny smile curling up the sides of his mouth. "I feel happy, Sammy."

"Good. If you're happy, then I'm happy. If anyone deserves to feel happy, it's you."

"Despite having a moment earlier today... Right now, I feel as close to happy as I've felt in years. Probably since I was a kid." Dean shook his head in wonder. "I didn't think I would ever feel this happy again, I didn't think I deserved to. Now I know that dad would want me to be happy, and for months I pretended to be okay, I smiled to hide the sadness, laughed to hide the tears." Dean's fingers strummed the strings on his guitar, and he smiled as he remembered his birthday. "I felt pretty happy that weekend at the cabin, I felt good. But right now... I feel the happiest I think I've ever been. And it feels amazing."

"It feels amazing to me too. To see you smile like that, to hear you laugh in such a carefree manner. I didn't think I'd ever hear it again. You've laughed a few times in the past couple of months, but that was the first real laugh I've heard, the kind where you laugh with your whole body, the kind where it explodes out of you in a burst of pure joy. It wasn't forced or fake, it was real and loud, open and boisterous and was the best sound I've ever heard."

Dean grinned at Sam, and shifted closer to his side. "There's plenty more where that came from. You up for some more singing?"

"Sure, why not? I'm sure my terrible singing will make you laugh plenty," Sam joked, nudging Dean's shoulder with his own.

They sang various songs including 'We are the champions' and 'I want to break free'. Dean hadn't learnt all of the songs on his guitar yet, he wasn't sure what notes to play at the moment, so he played in the tune of the songs until he came to one he actually knew.

Dean smiled, his long fingers strumming the strings in a familiar tune he had been learning recently.

"Ooh, you make me live. Whatever this world can give to me. It's you, you're all I see-eee. Ooh, you make me live now Sammy. Ooh, you make me live. You're the best friend that I ever had. I've been with you such a long time, You're my sunshine. And I want you to know that my feelings are true. I really love you. You're my best friend..." Dean looked at Sam as he sang the last words, as if he wanted Sam to know how true the words were.

Dean sang solo during this song, but Sam always joined in on the words 'You're my best friend', while grinning at Dean.

"...Whenever this world is cruel to me, I got you to help me forgive. Ooh, you make me live now Sammy. Ooh, you make me live. You're the first one when things turn out bad. You know I'll never be lonely, You're my only one. And I love the things, I really love the things that you doooo. You're my best friend..." Dean nodded at Sam, who finished the song.

As the song came to an end, they sat grinning at each other, their expressions saying more than words could. Before they could get pulled back into another 'chick-flick moment', Dean started moving his fingers in another song- This one always guaranteed to make them laugh.

"When the outside temperature rises, and the meaning is oh so clear. One thousand and one yellow daffodils begin to dance in front of you. Oh dear. Are they trying to tell you something? You're missing that one final screw, you're simply not in the pink my dear. To be honest you haven't got a cluuuue..."

As they continued singing, Bobby came into the house, and heard them laughing and walked upstairs to watch them having fun together. His heart warmed in his chest as it filled with love for the pair of them as they sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, swaying from side to side. They hadn't even noticed Bobby coming into the room, they only had eyes for each other as they laughed and sang in unison.

Tears swam in Bobby's eyes as he watched Dean laughing like he didn't have a care in the world, the huge smile on his face made him look like a child, he looked so happy, and Bobby didn't think he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life.

This was what Bobby meant earlier- Without the Winchesters, his house really was just an empty shell, but with the presence of his beloved boys, who were more like sons, his house really did become a home. They were the ones who filled the house with happiness and laughter, cheer and singing, joy and love, like they did as children.

"...I'm knitting with only one needle, unravelling fast its true. I'm driving only three wheels these days, my dear how about you? I'm going slightly mad, I'm going slightly mad. It finally happened. It finally happened, oh yes. It finally happened. I'm slightly maaaaaad! Just very slightly maaaad!"

Bobby was chuckling to himself by the end, shaking his head fondly as he watched them act like the two overgrown kids they never were, the look in his eyes was the same as any proud father.

Yeah, his boys probably were slightly mad, but they were the ones who made life worth living.

And Bobby wouldn't change them for the world.

Right now, there was nowhere else he would rather be, nothing else he would rather be doing.

Everything was as close to perfect as it could possibly be.

Dean was slowly recovering, his boys were safe and happy, and they were back home where they belonged.

And Bobby wouldn't have it any other way.

He would be right there every step of the way, and he knew that if either of them fell, he would always be there to catch them.

Because that's what real fathers did.

*The End*