The drive to Sioux Falls is dead silent— or, well… silent except for Sam arguing with someone only he can see.

You sit in the backseat beside him, one hand braced against the old Impala door, the other resting on Sam’s shoulder every time he twitches or murmurs under his breath.

Dean’s jaw is clenched hard enough to crack teeth. He keeps checking the mirror— checking on Sam, checking on you.

He hasn’t touched you today. Hasn’t said a word about what you two have between you. Not with Sam in this state. Not with the weight of Castiel’s death still dragging behind the car like a ghost.

But the way his hand shakes on the steering wheel… you can feel how badly he wants to.

The house comes into view first as a glow.

You lean forward between the seats.

“…Dean?” Your voice is small, like your throat knows before your brain does.

Dean squints out the windshield.

The glow becomes a flicker. The flicker becomes a blaze.

And then—

“No… no no no—” Dean breathes, flooring the Impala.

Sam straightens, Lucifer now silent at his side. Even he can’t ignore this.

Dean skids the car sideways in the dirt, gravel spraying. The three of you jump out.

Bobby’s house is an inferno.

Flames claw up the windows. The roof groans like it’s seconds from collapsing.

You choke on your breath.

“DAD!” you scream, sprinting toward the porch—but Dean grabs your arm, hauling you backward with sheer force.

“Whoa— no, sweetheart, you can’t go in there!” His voice is raw, cracking, desperate. “It’s too far gone!”

“I don’t care!” you shout, fighting him, tears already blurring your vision. “He was supposed to be here— he said he’d meet us— Dean let me GO!”

Dean holds you tighter, arms wrapping all the way around you now, pinning you to his chest as you thrash.

The fire reflects in his eyes— a soft, wet shine despite the grit of his voice.

“I’m not losing you too,” he murmurs harshly into your hair. “I can’t— I can’t let that happen.”

Sam stumbles beside you both, staring into the blaze with hollow fear.

“Bobby…” he whispers. Lucifer stands beside him, smirking at the flames. Sam clenches his fists, trying to block him out.

“Sam, stay with me,” you say shakily, but your voice trembles apart.

The porch collapses inward.

All three of you jump.

Dean pulls you tighter into his chest, one hand cupping the back of your neck like he can physically shield you from reality.

“No sign of him,” Sam says numbly. “Dean… what if—”

“Don’t.” Dean’s voice cuts sharp. “We don’t know anything yet.”

You bury your face against his shoulder, your fingers clutching his jacket.

Dean holds you like he needs the contact to stay upright.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his lips to the side of your temple— a comfort he never gives unless you’re breaking.

“We’re gonna find him. I swear to you. He’s too damn stubborn to die in a fire.”

A hot wind gusts from the collapsing structure, blowing cinders past you. Dean turns you both away, shielding you from the heat with his body.

Behind you, Sam’s breathing spirals, hallucination whispering in his ear.

“Sam?” you call, reaching one hand out while Dean keeps the other locked in his.

Sam presses his palms to his skull.

“Lucifer’s saying he’s dead,” he chokes.

Dean swears under his breath, stepping close and gripping Sam’s shoulder.

“Sammy— look at me. Look at ME. We don’t know that. Don’t listen to him.”

You stand between them, one hand on each of their arms as the fire consumes Bobby’s home— your childhood home— your safe place— the last piece of stability any of you ever had.

Your voice trembles.

“Then where is he…?”

Dean pulls you against his chest again, Sam leaning into your other side like he needs the physical anchor to stay in reality.

For one moment, the three of you simply stand there— a broken little family watching the flames take the last piece of the man who held you all together.

Dean presses his forehead to yours and whispers:

“We’ll find him, we’re not giving up. Not on Bobby… and not on each other.”