The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of Bobby’s house. Sam glanced at Dean, who sat silently behind the wheel, staring at the house that felt like the closest thing to home.

“Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve been here,” Sam said, trying to fill the quiet.

Dean didn’t respond, his jaw tightening. Bobby’s place was more than a pitstop, a place where John would often drop the boys off as he went on hunts alone, sometimes for weeks at a time. For Dean, it also meant you. Bobby’s daughter. His first love. The person he’d pushed away when life got too complicated and too painful after Sam went to college.

Sam noticed Dean’s hesitation. “You good?”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Not really, but let’s get this over with.”

The screen door creaked open, and Bobby stepped out onto the porch. “You two idjits just gonna sit there? Do I need to start charging rent for parking?”

Sam grinned, getting out of the car. “Good to see you, Bobby.”

Dean followed suit, giving a friendly nod to Bobby. He glanced around the yard, his gaze lingering on the barn, the porch swing, the places that held so many memories of you."

“Looking for someone?” Bobby asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Dean cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nah, just... taking it all in.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in. Got some books you’ll want to see about that demon problem.”

Just as they started toward the house, a voice called out from inside. “Dad, where do you keep the—”

You appeared in the doorway. Your eyes locked onto Dean’s, and everything else seemed to fade away.

“Dean,” you said, your voice barely audible.

He froze, his throat tightening as he took you in. “Hey {{user}},” he finally said, his voice rough.

Sam glanced between you and Dean, sensing the charged air. “I’ll just, uh… help Bobby with those books,” he mumbled, slipping past and leaving the two of you alone.