𝐁𝐎𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐍 ( SUPERNATURAL ¹ )

𝟭.𝟭𝟱 | 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗬

❰❰ ୧ ⋅ ˚ ₊ ·┊ೃ ' 🏹 015.
BOHEMIAN ✩ ‧ ₊ ૪
❛ it was on fire! ━━ ❜

     "𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐌𝐀𝐍?" The question didn't seem the register in Dean and Bowie's brains until Sam had asked it again. He furrowed his brow at their distant expressions, eyes shifting to the— newly renovated— house, which was painted a light blue. The tree from his dream still standing, rope from an old tire swing snapped at the root. It stood so still that Sam felt like he was still dreaming.

     Bowie rubbed his fingers through Stevie's thick brown fur, the dog heaving its tongue to the side as he looked around— ironic because he couldn't see. Bowie's eyes, however, were strained on the bedroom window of what was an old nursery, his brain forcing his eyes to see a roaring fire in its place.

     "Let me get back to you on that," Dean responds, cutting the engine of the Impala. The brothers piled out of the car, and Dean frowned when he noticed Stevie wagging beside him on a red harness, "Dude, the dog stays in the car—"

     "Sure, Dean, let me put an old blind dog in an unfamiliar vehicle alone," Bowie sassed, followed by a soft eye roll, "Relax, he's not going to bite you."

      Stevie licks his nostril in reply. Dean huffs.

     The woman who opened the door was a blonde in her late twenties, a green v-necked t-shirt and low-rise jeans. Her eyes scanned the three men, dropping down to the dog before back at Bowie who stood in the center, "Yes?"

     "Hello, sorry to bother you, ma'am," Dean cuts in, his tone a mixture between nonchalant and firm, "But we're with the Federal—"

     "I'm Sam Winchester," The youngest chops in, motioning between the three, "And these are my older brothers, Dean and Bowie. Um, we used to live here," He shifted, "You know, we were just driving by, and wondering if we could see the old place."

     "Winchester," The woman repeats in thought, "That is so funny. I-I think I found some of your photos the other night."

     "You did?" They chorused.

     She hesitates, looking back into the house before opening the door wide, motioning for them to come inside. Bowie frowned. The woman was far too trusting. If he were in her position, and three grown men with a dog came knocking, he'd probably slam it shut.

     But, with a shared look, the brothers enter.

     Bowie swallowed thickly at how different the house looked now. The structure was the same but the wallpaper was different, and the furniture is moved around. A little boy with floppy blonde hair was jumping around in a large playpen in the open kitchen, begging his mother for juice.

     The second the little boy saw Stevie, his begging for juice had turned into excited pleas to pet the blind dog. Bowie happily walked over and sat the Labrador beside the playpen, the dog excited to entertain someone young.

     The little girl on the table stayed quiet. She was older by a few years, with low pigtails and a permanent resting face. She was doing homework on the table, eying the dog in controlled excitement.

     "That's Richie. He's kind of a juice junkie," The mother introduced, "But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy."

     "He's adorable," Bowie replies, giving the little boy a thumbs up— which he didn't return but the older man didn't mind.