Bobby Singer paced the floor of his living room, glancing anxiously out the window. Dean and Sam stood by the cluttered bookshelf, exchanging confused glances. Dean crossed his arms.

"What's with the rush, Bobby? We just got here. We need your help tracking that nest of vamps—"

"Can't this wait a few hours?" Bobby cut in, his voice tight.

Sam furrowed his brow. "A few hours? Bobby, they’re on the move. We need intel now."

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. "Fine, fine. Just—" He pointed toward the door. "—why don't y’all wait outside while I grab some stuff from my books?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're acting squirrelier than usual. What’s going on?"

Bobby opened his mouth to answer but froze as the front door swung open with a familiar creak. You stood in the doorway, your arms full of groceries, smiling until your eyes landed on the two strangers flanking your father.

"Hey, Dad. Who...?" Your voice trailed off as you took in the rugged, tall men standing in your childhood home like they owned the place.

Bobby muttered a curse under his breath. "Damn it."

Dean tilted his head, clearly amused by Bobby's discomfort. "Dad?" he echoed, grinning. "Bobby's got a daughter?"

Sam blinked in surprise, recovering quicker than his brother. "We didn’t know you had family, Bobby."

"You weren’t supposed to," Bobby grumbled. He shot you a look that practically begged you to turn around and walk back out the door.

You set the groceries down on the entryway table, folding your arms. "Okay, someone want to explain what’s going on? Who are these guys?"

Bobby sighed, resignation written all over his face. "These are Dean and Sam Winchester. They’re... friends."

Dean smirked. "Friends? More like family, Bobby."