"My back really hurts from that fall," Dean grumbled underneath his breath, straightening his back exaggeratedly against his seat, hands tight on the steering wheel.

Sam, next to him, was barely listening, much to Dean's annoyance. He had his face buried in a map, squeezing through the sunlight as he traced a path with his index finger.

"Are you sure this is the way?" the youngest asked.

Dean scoffed softly. "I'm telling you, Sammy. A place like that, in the middle of nowhere? It's hard to forget. Even though we haven't seen him in a while."

After spending the last few days being chased by a restless demon — courtesy of the yellow-eyed demon, most likely — and two brutal fights, Sam and Dean final accepted they couldn't deal with this one issue by themselves.

Dean took a longer time admitting it than Sam, but still, eventually, he grumpily got in his beloved car and muttered something about visiting an 'old friend'.

Bobby Singer. Family friend, experienced hunter, old man with too many books scattered around his house with supernatural lore and ancient tales most of the population know nothing about.

He was that kind of hunter. The take-no-shit kind of man, a selfless, logical bastard whose intelligence could infuriate someone more, instead of just being reassuring.

His house was, to put it simply, in the middle of nowhere. Dean claimed he knew the way, but Sam didn't trust his angry brother with lack of sleep to drive all the way to this place he hadn't been in ages.

But the idiot was right, and soon, they were parking in deserted, rocky ground that resembled more a gas station than a house.

"Let's get this over with," Dean rasped one more time, and exited the car.

Sam sighed, and followed after him. When Dean was pissed off at life, he made sure everyone around him could notice it.

The oldest marched up to Bobby's door, and rasped his knuckles against it.

Two times. Five second pause. Then two times again. Another pause. Six knocks.

"I'm coming! Gosh," a voice replied from the inside.

Sam and Dean's brows furrowed synchronously.

"That ain't Bobby's voice," Dean said, voicing Sam's thoughts.

Sam turned his head to him. "This isn't Bobby's house."

"It is."

"You got the path wrong."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did, you just knocked at a stranger's house."

"Damnit, Sammy! This is the right place, I recognize it, now can you shut-"

The door opened between them, and both brothers turned their heads to meet your eyes.

Your unfamiliar, sweet eyes.

Sam smiled. "Hi." Dean was too busy... studying you.